Lima, Ohio: The Other, Other Hellmouth
by rakestrawberry
Summary: Lima, Ohio is set upon an ancient portal to Hell and the only person who can protect Lima's citizens is the Chosen One; Buffy Summers. While the slayer expects to find boredom in Ohio, instead she finds witches, werewolves, vampires - and glee club.
1. The Chosen One

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Glee. That honor goes to Joss Whedon and Ryan Murphy, respectively.**

Buffy Summers jerked her head back from a foam-covered microphone being shoved into her face.

"Jacob Ben Israel. You must be Buffy Summers." A scrawny boy with jam-jar glasses and brown, curly hair held the mic up to her face while a kid in suspenders held a camcorder behind him.

"Uh, yeah -" said Buffy, pulling at her cream-colored sweater and anxiously eyeing the entrance to the local high school.

"There's a forum on my blog dedicated solely to your arrival," said Jacob, looking her up and down through his glasses, pausing on her ruffled pink skirt, "We had no idea the new kid would be so... delectable."

Buffy felt her skin crawl. "Well, thanks, but I have to get to class. My first day, wouldn't want to be late!" she chirped cheerily, and pushed past Jacob and his silent cameraman.

Other kids her age were parking their parents cars in the expansive parking lot and greeting each other, slinging backpacks over their shoulders and dawdling for as long as they could. It was Buffy's first day at William McKinley High School and Ohio was a big and not necessarily welcome change from what she was used to. Still, she had no other choice than to remain optimistic. Her heels click-clacked against the linoleum floors. It was more or less like her old high school back in Los Angeles and she finally found the library at the southernmost part of the building.

She waggled her fingers at the ancient, sour-faced librarian and weaved through rows of tall bookcases, her shoes thudding on the soft carpet. Principal Figgins told her that her rented textbooks for the whole year should be at the back with the rest of the official school coursework. She walked briskly to the back wall and tripped over someone who'd been crouched on the ground, sifting through music sheets. She balanced herself before she could fall and looked down apologetically.

"Sorry!" she whispered, grinning at the guy.

He had a square jaw and a head of chestnut-colored curls. He was kind of cute, and young, but too old to be a student, Buffy noted with disappointment. He stood up, staring at her with an open mouth, making her uncomfortable.

"Um, uh, you must be Buffy," he said.

Buffy nodded, surprised. "I guess I'm the only new kid," she chuckled awkwardly.

"Yeah, I... I'm Mr. Schuester," he said, extending his hand.

Buffy gently shook his, trying not to underestimate her own strength.

"Let me help you find what you're looking for!" he exclaimed and dropped his music sheets, moving to a dusty corner of the library.

"Uh, actually..." Buffy stammered, following him.

He rummaged through a pile of dusty books and held one up to her with a proud, dorky grin on his face. The book had a thick leather cover and dust gathered into the crevices of the the carved etchings of ancient runes and Wiccan symbols. 'Vampyr' was carved in bulky letters across the top.

Buffy blanched. "That's not what I'm looking for," she said gravely, her eyes darting around the near-empty library.

"Oh," said Mr. Schuester, disappointed, looking down at the leather-bound book.

He turned around to look at the other books in the darkened corner, but Buffy had already sprinted out of the library. She escaped into the hallway and pushed past a few students who were still bumbling around. Didn't small town equal normal? she asked herself, Apparently not for me.

She knocked into a bespectacled boy in a wheelchair and almost stumbled to the floor again before she balanced herself. Her backpack was thrown over her shoulder, pencils and loose-leaf paper spilling onto the floor.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, "I'm such a klutz today."

"It's fine," the boy smiled, leaning down and gathering pencils in his hands.

"Thanks," she said, shoving her stuff back into her blue JanSport backpack, "I'm Buffy."

"Artie," he replied, hitching his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiling shyly.

Buffy smiled, grateful, and walked off briskly to get her class schedule from the receptionist.

"Wait, you forgot your..." Artie stopped and picked up a sharp wooden spike that had rolled under his wheels, "Stake?"

xxx

Quinn Fabray smoothed her glossed lips together and scribbled History notes into her refill pad as Mr. Perry droned on about the Spanish war. She paid enough attention in class and took enough notes to manage getting all As, but she also knew that high school was a place for looking good and climbing the social ladder. She was an all-or-nothing girl.

As she drew a timeline in her notebook, her boyfriend slipped her a note. She didn't bother looking up at Finn as she took the piece of paper and unfolded it. 'Check out the nu girl bside Puck', it read, in Santana's scratchy handwriting. Quinn folded the note in between her fingers and turned discretely to Santana and Brittany, who were sitting beside each other, behind her and Finn, in their matching red and white cheerleading uniforms.

Santana nodded her dark brown ponytail at Noah Puckerman, who was sitting next to the new girl. Quinn pursed her lips and gave the girl a once-over. She was thin and petite, with athletic, toned legs under her flowery skirt. Her hair was the same sandy blond color as Quinn's, in cheerful beach curls that brushed her shoulders. Quinn narrowed her eyes as Puck bit his bottom lip and ran a hand over his dark faux-hawk, eyeing the new hottie up and down. She looked back at Santana and Brittany, who were awaiting her response. She frowned, and nodded, and her minions nodded back.

She turned back in her seat and convinced herself that she had the situation under control. Quinn was top dog at McKinley and no cute little blonde was going to come in and change that. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Quinn always thought.

After class, Buffy hitched her backpack over her shoulder and walked into the hallway. The whole blending in thing didn't seem to be working very well with her classmates staring at her like she had a second head. Then again, the citizens of Lima probably didn't get a lot of action. When Buffy's mom had announced they were moving to Ohio, Buffy imagined a bunch of local yokels at the corn festival in denim overalls and straw hats, making out with their cousins. But she promised she'd give their new home a chance.

Her thoughts were swatted away like flies by two cheerleaders who quickly flanked her either side. Buffy held her breath a moment, stunned. Shoulder to shoulder, they easily steered her around the hall. A tall, poised blonde with a serene smile was on her left and a Latina with amusement dancing in her brown eyes appeared on her right, a swing to her hips.

"You must be Buffy," said the blonde, her voice smooth and sultry.

"Uh, yeah, that's me. Seems like everyone knows who I am," Buffy laughed nervously.

The blonde smiled. "I'm Quinn Fabray. Head cheerleader, president of the celibacy club, and this is Santana."

Santana gave a quick smile.

"So I hear you're from California. Someone said the new kid was fresh from Los Angeles," said Quinn, as the cheerleaders steered Buffy aimlessly through the school.

"Yeah. Me and my mom... needed a change of scenery," said Buffy, fudging the truth.

"Why Ohio?" asked Quinn.

"My mom thought a small town sounded like a new change of pace. She found a space here to open up her gallery-"

"Your Mom's an artist? That's... unique."

"No, not an artist. She just owns the gallery. Likes to exhibit a lot of old Afro-European stuff."

"Opening a tribal art gallery in this economy? Brave woman."

Buffy half-smiled. "Yeah..."

"So, I saw you hanging out with Jew-Fro this morning," said Santana, eyeing Buffy out of her peripheral, the corners of her mouth edging down in a judgemental frown.

"Oh, we weren't really hanging out. He just sort of came up to me with his camera guy and started asking me stuff-"

"Good," said Quinn, stopping at a slushie machine outside the cafeteria doors, "You don't want to end up slumming it with theatre geeks and A/V club losers. You just stick with me and mine and you'll be good to go."

Buffy shuffled uncertainly. Quinn and Santana were a little overbearing and seemed to have suspicious intentions, but Buffy would be glad to have any sort of clique to fit in to. She didn't want to stick out in a place so small.

Quinn filled a large plastic cup to the brim with cherry-flavored slush and sipped a little off the top. She started walking again, leading them down the hall, not bothering to fit a lid over her cup.

"Of course, there's still the mandatory test of character," said Quinn. Santana smirked.

"Test?" Buffy frowned, "But it's my first day."

Quinn laughed. "Don't worry, Buffy, I'm sure you'll pass. Let's see... fishnet stockings?"

"Um, over?"

"So over. Armie Hammer?"

"Needs to call me," Buffy giggled.

Quinn smiled, gripping her large slushie, but not drinking it. "Pinkberry."

"Trendy, yet tasty."

"Kanye West."

"The devil."

Quinn smiled brightly. "Well, that was kind of a gimme, but you passed!"

"Yay," Buffy smirked as they walked past a row of lockers.

"Hey, Rachel, heads up!" called Quinn.

A dark-haired girl in a preppy argyle sweater whirled around and Quinn, gripping her slushie cup, threw the icy drink in the smaller girl's face. Buffy stared in shock as slush dripped down the girl's top as she grimaced in pain. Quinn and Santana cackled and high-fived, and stood tight on either side of Buffy as they walked on.

"Some people just need to know their place," said Quinn, "Rachel Berry is a total loser. Glee club freak, theatre geek, always bragging about her 4.0 grade point average."

"Did you see those cable-knit tights?" Santana sneered, "My grandma is sexier than that tranny."

"You'll learn to tell the difference between the losers and the cool crowd real quick," sauid Quinn, "And don't worry, we're tell the Titans and the Cheerios not to slushie you."

Buffy looked over her shoulder as Rachel Berry hobbled stiffly to the girls' bathrooms.

"Um, I have to go, uh, get my stuff for next period. I'll see you later, though," said Buffy, stopping in her tracks and backing away from the cheerleaders.

"Bye," said Quinn, waggling her fingers. Once Buffy was out of sight, she dropped her hand and her friendly smile. "She's nauseating."

"We'll keep her in line," Santana smirked.

Quinn nodded and held her chin up as she dumped the empty slushie cup in the nearest trash can.

xxx

Rachel Berry grabbed a pile of scratchy brown tissue paper from their holder mounted on the wall of the girls' bathroom and started to wipe slushie off of her face. She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror, red dye seeping into her navy sweater.

"Quinn Fabray must have some serious self-esteem issues if she feels the need to publically humiliate people for the sake of impressing the new girl," she said, cleaning off the ice that was dripping down her collar.

Kurt Hummel sat up on the edge of one of the sinks, his denim-clad legs crossed. "Don't you think I know that? I've been hiding in here all day trying to avoid a slushie facial. I spent all of my babysitting money on a trip to a dermatologist out of town this weekend and I'm not going to waste it on the amusement of Little Miss Peroxide and her pretend friends."

Rachel slid a retractable hairbrush out of her sleeve and attempted to brush the flavored slush out of her hair when the bathroom door swung open and the new girl, a blonde with beach waves and designer clothes came in with a nervous grin.

"Hi, I'm Buffy," she smiled awkwardly at them. Rachel and Kurt looked at her, expectant, and Buffy shuffled on the spot. "Um, I'm so sorry about what Quinn did... to you..." she said, staring sheepishly at the red stains all over Rachel's front.

"It's not your fault," said Rachel, whipping back around to the mirror and wiping her face.

Buffy squirmed. Rachel didn't sound particularly forgiving, and Buffy didn't bother to question why there was a boy hanging out in the girls' room.

"I, uh, I'm sort of behind on homework because I'm new and all, and... well, someone mentioned that you're a straight A student. I just wanted to ask if maybe you could help me-"

"You want me to help you study?" Rachel asked, holding a paper towel in front of face and staring at Buffy in the mirror.

"Only if your not busy."

Rachel frowned. "Aren't you friends with Quinn Fabray?" she asked softly, looking into the sink.

Buffy smirked. "Can't I be friends with both of you?"

"Not legally," the boy said sarcastically, "I'm Kurt."

"Hi," Buffy smiled gratefully, "Look, don't worry about Quinn."

Rachel dumped her red crumpled tissues into the trash can. "Okay," she said enthusiastically, "We should find somewhere quiet to study. The library?"

"No!" Buffy exclaimed, "I mean, we don't have to start studying right this second. We could just... hang. You guys could show me around, maybe, first. Where's the cafeteria?"

"We don't like to hang out in the cafeteria," said Kurt, hopping off of the sink, "Too big a risk of a slushie facial."

"We can spend lunch in the auditorium," said Rachel, "We have to be there next period, anyways, to audition for glee club."

"Glee club? Cool," said Buffy.

"Liar," Kurt smirked, "Glee club is not cool. Now L.A., that's cool! That close to that many shoes? Heaven!"

Buffy chuckled as the boy slung his leather satchel over his shoulder, he and Rachel leading her out of the restroom, not as predatorily as Quinn and Santana. Buffy didn't dwell on the fact that it was now easier for her to fit in with the glee clubbers than with the cheerleaders. She just let them steer her into the auditorium.

It was a lot smaller than the one at her old school, with imitation red velvet, tiered seats and a bulky wooden stage. She took a seat with her new friends in the front row.

"So explain to me why in Marc Jacobs' name you would move to this Hell hole," asked Kurt.

Buffy squirmed. "Mainly, my mom wanted a fresh start. She found a space to open her art gallery-"

"Art gallery?" Kurt raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed, "How chic are you?! You're too fabulous for Lima. Is that a real Ralph Lauren?"

Buffy looked down at her sweater. It was, indeed, a cashmere Ralph Lauren sweater that her dad had given her as a parting gift before she moved hundreds of miles away. She promised she'd wear it on her first day of school and she was surprised that someone recognized it.

"How'd you know?" she asked.

"I know the Fall catalogue like the back of my hand!" he gushed.

Buffy smiled and looked at Kurt's brown wool Alexander McQueen sweater that stopped mid-thigh.

"You know, I have a cotton Ralph Lauren jacket you might be able to fit into."

Kurt's eyes lit up and he leaned forward to look at Rachel, who was gargling from a water bottle on Buffy's other side. "I love the new girl!"

Rachel swallowed her mouthful of water and smiled. "Have you signed up for any extracurricular activities yet?" she asked, flicking a lock of brown hair behind her shoulder.

"No, this is just my first day. I was more concerned about fitting in," said Buffy, shrinking in her seat.

Rachel's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "High school's no time for fitting in, Buffy. It's the time to make something of yourself. Why don't you try out for glee club with us?"

"I'm not much of a singer."

"That's okay! Every show choir needs people to sway in the background."

Buffy smirked. "Maybe later in the year. I'm already so behind on school work..." she trailed off.

Rachel nodded slowly, disappointed. "So, do you have any hobbies?"

It was an innocent enough question, but Buffy started to feel like she was under interrogation.

"Well, I was a cheerleader in my old school."

Rachel and Kurt's faces fell.

"Figures," Kurt shook his head.

"No wonder Quinn and Santana like you. They probably sensed the coolness wafting out of your perfect hair," said Rachel.

"Huh?"

"Are you going to join the Cheerios?" asked Kurt, "They were trying to recruit you, right?"

"Of course they were. And once you become a Cheerio, you're never going to talk to us again. I wouldn't blame you. Reputation is everything," Rachel said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Guys, they were not trying to recruit me, and even if they did, I like you guys. I wouldn't stop talking to you. I want us to be friends."

Rachel side-eyed Buffy suspiciously before a smile appeared on her face. "I'd like that, too."

Kurt nodded on her other side as the bell sounded for classes to begin.

"It's free period, right? I'll watch you guys audition," said Buffy, smiling eagerly, anxious to make - and keep - friends.

"Great!" said Rachel, pleased to have an audience, "I'm singing On My Own from the critically acclaimed Broadway play, Les Miserables!"

Buffy nodded, trying to match Rachel's enthusiasm. She couldn't quite get there.

"Who runs glee club, anyways?" she asked.

"Mr. Schuester," said Rachel, "He took on glee club after Sandy Ryerson got fired for..."

Rachel continued to talk but the sound of her voice was muffled in Buffy's ears as the cogs in her mind starting to turn. Mr. Schuester? she thought, Can I never escape this? She turned around to see Mr. Schuester was walking into the auditorium, the dim lighting making his brown curls dark. Buffy shrank in her seat.

"...and despite what you may have heard, I wasn't the one to turn him in. And even if I did, it's not because I'm homophobic. I have two gay dads," Rachel said smugly, as the sound of her voice came back to Buffy.

"Uh huh," said Buffy, barely listening as she grabbed her backpack from the floor and leapt up, "You know, I'm such a ditz! I completely forgot, I can't stay and watch you audition. I, uh, have to meet Principal Figgins to discuss my permanent record. I was quite the troublemaker back in California!" Buffy rambled on as she backed away from the seats.

Kurt and Rachel watched, perplexed, as she stormed right past Mr. Schuester and out of the auditorium. She strode away briskly in her heels until she heard the squeak of sneakers behind her. If she wanted to, she could break out into a run and be rid of him, but she knew that some things had to be confronted. She whirled around in the hallway, her golden hair swishing over her shoulder, and Mr. Schuester skidded to a stop.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" she demanded.

He blinked in surprise and looked left and right, though there wasn't another soul in the hallway. "You're a slayer," he said in a hushed tone.

"Maybe I don't want to be a slayer! Maybe I just want to be a cheerleader or a prom queen or, or... a glee club loser! I don't want to hunt monsters in my spare time. I'm sixteen!" Buffy exclaimed, expelling her frustration.

Mr. Schuester swallowed. "Buffy, you were chosen by a higher power and the Watchers' Council sent you to me."

"No, they didn't. My parent's divorce sent me here. My mom decided to move. It has nothing to do with being a slayer."

"Of course it does. It has everything to do with it. Who do you think offered your mom an opportunity like this? Buffy, you have a sacred birthright. In every generation, a slayer is born..." Will gulped and took a sneaky peek at the sweaty ink on the palm of his hand, "One girl in all the world with the strength and skill to fight the-"

"-vampires. To stop the swell of their numbers and the spread of their evil. I've heard this spiel from my old watcher, and he didn't need cheat tactics to do it," Buffy rolled her eyes at his inky hand.

He sheepishly shoved his hand into the pocket of his slacks. "Then you know. There's nothing you can do."

"Yes there is. I quit. I came to Ohio for a fresh start, not to prey on the living dead."

"Buffy, there's a reason you're here. This town is on a Hellmouth. Mystical energy is pulsing right under us. That means vampires and God knows what else are going to be attracted to it. Someone has to stop them!"

"So why don't you do it?" asked Buffy, raising an eyebrow.

"Me? I-I'm not a slayer. I'm a watcher. I-"

"Watch?"

Mr. Schuester pursed his lips. His training never covered this.

"Just... leave me alone," Buffy sighed and strode away, her heels clacking with every step as she walked right out of the school.

She knew some things couldn't be escaped and it nagged her at the back of her mind constantly, the thought appearing when she woke up in cold sweats from prophetic dreams of sharp-fanged vampires. Her heels thudded against the parking lot pavement.

"Hey, Busty!"

Buffy looked to her left and saw a Jeep full of boys in bulky letterman jackets. The mohawked boy from her History class leaned out of the driver's seat and narrowed his brown eyes at her, a smarmy smile on his face.

"It's Buffy," she corrected him as he drove nearer, his friends chuckling in the back seat. Buffy noticed Santana sneering on the passenger's side.

"Skipping school?" he asked.

"Uh, n-no. My old school let us leave campus during free period. I-It's not like that here?"

The boy smiled wider, knowingly. "I'm Puck, and I am skipping school. Me and my bros are gonna take a bottle of Jack to Edgar's Field, get smashed and go cow-tipping when it gets dark. You in?"

Buffy gave him a fake smile. "No, thanks," she said, eyeing Santana, who was leaning territorially against Puck. She whispered something in the boy's ear, making him snicker.

"Have it your way, Bucky!" he hollered and sped off.

"It's Buffy," she grumbled. Not that anyone could hear her.

xxx

"Everyone was really… friendly. And the learning part was so… learny!"

Joyce Summers raised a sandy blond eyebrow at her daughter. "They have English classes at McKinley, don't they?" she asked sarcastically, as she struggled to grip a wooden packing crate.

Buffy picked up a crate with ease and followed her mom upstairs. Their new house on Rovello Drive was barely furnished and full of cardboard boxes, but the biggest feature were the wooden packing crates that flooded the house and blocked their entrance. They were full of eclectic pieces for Mrs. Summers' gallery downtown.

"How different is it from L.A?" asked Joyce, briefly laying a concerned palm on her daughter's dainty shoulder.

"Not that different, actually. I mean, the weather's worse and people dress differently… but a school's a school, right? Same gross cafeteria food, same weird mouth-breathing chess club kids-"

"And we're not going to have any problems like your old school, right?"

Buffy grimaced as she followed her mom back downstairs to pick up more packing crates. Problems at her old school were a sore subject.

"No. Of course not," Buffy said. But she wasn't so sure.

Joyce struggled to balance a crate on her forearms and heave it up the stairs again, as the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Buffy murmured as her mother disappeared up the staircase.

Buffy opened the door and looked out at her porch into the early night and sure enough, under a plaid golf hat was Mr. Schuester's head of bronze curls. Buffy almost shut the door again, but he wedged his foot in and stopped her.

"What do you want?" she hissed, keeping the door almost closed so her mother wouldn't hear.

"There's been an attack," said Mr. Schuester, his dull hazel eyes grave with concern.

Buffy bit the inside of her lip. Schuester didn't know what he was doing; not at all. He looked like he needed her more than she needed him. Buffy grimaced and stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her.

"Who's been attacked?" she asked, folding her arms as a breeze blew by.

"Some football players. Most of them ran home, but a few are in the hospital. And Santana Lopez was with them, but they said she ran off. She probably went home, too," said Mr. Schuester, wringing his hands together.

Buffy thought back to the SUV of jocks that pulled up to her earlier at school that day, Santana Lopez resting territorially in the passengers' seat.

"How'd you find out?" asked Buffy.

"A farmer found some of them wounded near his cattle. He recognized the letterman jackets and called the school after he called the ambulance," said Mr. Schuester.

Buffy bit her bottom lip. "Look, you seem to be able to handle this yourself-"

"Buffy, you're the slayer! It's your obligation to protect the town from this kind of thing!"

Buffy glared at the teacher. "It is not my obligation! My obligation is to go to school and get acne and have bad self-esteem! I'm-"

"Sixteen, I know," sighed Mr. Schuester, looking a little sympathetic for once, "But people are getting hurt. And you're the only one who can help them."

Guilt trip. Great, thought Buffy.

"Fine," she said, "But I'm not promising any miracles, OK? You can take me to the crime scene. I'll check it out."

"Great," smiled Mr. Schue, overly enthusiastic.

"Just wait here. I have to get dressed," she said.

"Dressed?"

Buffy looked down at her cashmere sweater and prissy ruffled mini skirt.

"You think I'm going on duty in this?"

Buffy closed the door on him and sprinted upstairs.

"Mom, I'm going out," she called as she swung into her room, still full of cardboard boxes and rummaged through her packed clothes.

"Going where?" asked Joyce, sticking her bob of frizzy blond hair in the doorway.

"Uh, my new friends. They're having a… hoedown," said Buffy, pulling out a pair of worn-out Old Navy jeans.

"A hoedown?" Joyce asked skeptically, a hand on her hip.

"Yeah. All the kids in Ohio love hoedown throwdown. Why? Can't I go?" asked Buffy, holding the leg of her pants out to see if they still fit.

"I guess-"

"Thanks, Mom," said Buffy, giving her mom a peck on the cheek and slamming her bedroom door closed.

xxx

Buffy squirmed in Mr. Schuester's tiny blue Honda.

"So, I get you're on a teacher's salary and everything, but doesn't the Watcher's Council give you enough to afford a bigger car?" asked Buffy, checking herself out in the mirror.

She'd tied her honey blond hair up in a ponytail that barely grazed the shoulder of her black leather Burberry jacket.

Who says slaying can't be trendy? she asked herself.

"I don't get paid to be a watcher," Mr. Schue chuckled.

Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion. "Wait, so… you do this for free? Risk your life and waste your time on slayer after slayer for… what?"

"Well… my father was a watcher. And his father. It's almost as much a birth rite as yours. We help make the world a safer place."

Buffy sighed, and stared out of the car door window, off into the dark pastures.

"You're pretty selfless."

His smile grew until a dorky grin was plastered on his face. "Yeah. I guess I am."

Mr. Schuester pulled over on a dirt road, beside a cobblestone wall. Buffy got out, balancing the short heels of her black leather boots on the wet gravel, grimacing as a cow leered at her from behind the wall.

"Over here," said Mr. Schuester.

In the middle of the field not too far out of town, Mr. Schuester shone his flashlight over a patch of grass.

"Is that blood?" Buffy asked over the incessant mooing, eyeing dark, wet splotches over the grass.

Mr. Schuester shone his flashlight over the torn, bloody remains of a letterman jacket. Buffy watched him grimace hopelessly.

"You say some of them are in the hospital," said Buffy.

Mr. Schuester nodded. "You think we should visit them?"

"They're the only witnesses we've got."

xxx

Somewhere in the dark that night, a willowy woman opened the back door to let one of her cats in, her slightly faded blond hair blowing in the night breeze. This woman was Phoebe Pierce, and she only stopped for a moment because she heard a rustling noise in her gardenias. Phoebe strained her eyes and held her breath, but the night stayed still.

"Note to Phoebe; Cut down on the pot brownies," she whispered into the darkness, pulling her silk robe around herself and closing the slide door.

Lurking in the shadows of Phoebe Pierce's gardenias, Santana Lopez emerged, the cool breeze tickling the beads of sweat that tread down her forehead. She felt ill and weak, her senses strained and giving her a massive headache. When Mrs. Pierce's hair had blown in the window, she felt the most tempting urge to drain the essence from her. Santana couldn't explain the feeling; it was as if Mrs. Pierce was full to the brim of this energy, and Santana needed to sink her teeth into it.

Santana gave herself a slap on the cheek. You're not here for that, Santana, she reminded herself, Just get to Brittany. Now that Santana really thought about it, she had no idea how Brittany would be able to help. Brittany was just the person Santana went to about everything; it was a force of habit. But what would her best friend be able to do about this? Where else are you going to go, San? she asked herself, The hospital? Your parents? No, not about this.

Santana struggled to swallow. She already made up her mind. More quickly than she ever did before, Santana sprinted across the Pierces' backyard and leaped onto a drain. She felt the sweat dripping down her neck and a burning sensation in her throat.

"I'm comin' Britt," she whispered, bracing herself for the climb up to Brittany's window.

xxx

A light knock came on the door of the hospital room, and Quinn sharply turned her head to see that vapid Buffy girl, and for some reason, Mr. Schuester, closely behind. Quinn squinted at her with her mouth open in confusion, giving the girl her best 'What are you doing here?' stare.

"Hi," said Buffy, giving a half-hearted wave.

"Hello," said Finn's mother, who was sitting on his other side.

Finn looked up and squinted his pale green eyes at Buffy, trying to remember where he's seen her before as the two women coddled him.

"Uh, I'm Buffy. I just- I heard about what happened and I wanted to… pay my respects," said Buffy, grimacing awkwardly at her choice of words.

"Oh, well, thank you," said Mrs. Hudson, smiling warmly.

"Uh, yeah, I just came to say that, Finn, I'm sure you've been through a lot tonight. Don't worry about homework until your arm heals," said Mr. Schuester, shifting uncomfortably as he and Buffy slowly entered the room.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," Finn smiled sleepily.

"Are you gonna be OK?" asked Buffy.

"He's gonna be fine," Quinn said with a flat tone, eyeing Buffy up and down suspiciously.

Quinn's mouth only tightened into a stern grimace as Buffy ignored her. No one ignored Quinn Fabray.

"What happened?" asked Buffy, edging closer to Finn's hospital bed.

"I don't even know. It- it came out of nowhere," said Finn.

"What did?" asked Buffy, listening intently.

"I- I don't know. It was some kind of animal. I heard the guys freakin' out, and then when I turned  
>around… it attacked. It was like, lightning fast. I thought I was gonna die out there," Finn breathed out, looking pleased to talk about it, "Slashed up my chest. Thank God my arm's only sprained. If it were broken I wouldn't be able to play football this season."<p>

"Can I see the scar?"

Quinn blinked and closed her lips in a stiff frown. "Finn is resting now-" she started to say, but Finn was already lifted the hospital gown, eager to show his impressive scars. And boy, were they impressive.

Quinn lost her train of thought and gave a small gasp. The doctors had stitched it up, of course, but that didn't make it any less disgusting. Claw marks like knives were carved all down the boy's chest, making grotesque, swollen gashes. Buffy took a step back, a little short of breath.

"Whoa," she said, barely audible to everyone else in the room, "Uh. Okay. Well…"

"It's not as bad as it looks," said Finn, making Buffy a little surprised by the hint of disappointment in his voice, "The cuts are really shallow, and my right arm is still intact, so I can still go to school."

Finn's mother smiled knowingly at his unenthusiastic tone.

"Okay, well, that's great! Um, I just came by to say hi, so… hi! And, uh, bye."

Buffy strode out of the room with Mr. Schuester, both about to die from the embarrassment of their own awkwardness.

"So, was it a vampire?" asked Mr. Schue.

Buffy stopped in her tracks and glared at her watcher. "Haven't you ever seen the movies? Vampire bites are two teeny clean holes on the neck. Did you see that kid? No, this isn't a vampire."

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Buffy cried, "Some kind of animal? You figure it out. I have homework."


	2. The Vampire

**Chapter 2**

**The Vampire**

Buffy Summers was a big believer in second chances. In fact, she depended on them. So no doubt she was trying to remain optimistic that her second day in Lima, Ohio would be much better than the first. And it was starting to be.

She'd woken up to a clean hallway downstairs, her mother having cleared away most of the packing crates for her gallery's stock. In fact, she'd even unpacked the juicer, so Buffy was greeted at the breakfast table with some freshly squeezed orange juice. Energetic and revitalized, Buffy had dressed for cool weather in her Uggs, jeans and gray jersey jacket. She was even having a good hair day.

Nothing can ruin this day for you Buffster. Today is your day, she thought to herself as she pushed past students milling about McKinley High. As she gingerly walked to her locker on the south side of the building, she skidded to a stop as Quinn Fabray suddenly side-stepped in her way.

"Quinn!" Buffy breathed out, surprised, "Uh, hi!"

"Hi," said Quinn, flat and unfriendly, "So, Buffy. Thinking of trying out for Cheerios?"

"Uh, haven't thought about that, actually. But, y'know, I just started, and I'm already behind on my classes-"

"Right. Right. It's just, a lot of new kids here, they think they have to fit in to a certain clique. They spot the queen bee and they conform. But Buffy – oh, innocent Buffy…" Quinn tried to look concerned, patting Buffy bashfully on the shoulder, "You should just… be yourself! Don't try to conform to some…beautiful, blond Christian cheerleader with a hunky quarterback boyfriend. No matter how glamorous it may look."

Buffy stared at her head on, trying her damndest to look as if she was taking her seriously. "I totally understand, Quinn. I… I won't. I won't do that."

"Good," Quinn smiled enthusiastically, "So, y'know, you don't have to show up to Finn's hospital room to comfort him, or, even talk to him, in fact."

Buffy nodded, quickly losing interest. "Got it."

"Great," said Quinn, grinning victoriously, "And maybe we can even sit together at lunch. Santana didn't show up, so there's an open spot."

"Santana didn't show up?" asked Buffy.

"Oh, probably went home and took the day off to stir up rumors. She loves attention," said Quinn with a flippant wave of her hand, "See you later!"

xxx

"And I said to myself sit down, sit down you're rockin' the boat."

Mr. Schue nodded in approval at Artie's jazz hands as he spun in his wheelchair, belting the solo of Sit Down You're Rockin' The Boat, and the rest of glee club joined in with backing vocals, hopping about to half-assed choreography.

"Sit down you're rockin', sit down, sit down, sit down, you're rockin' the boat," the group sang, Kurt and Mercedes shoving for spotlight, and Rachel flourishing in the center, as Tina pretended to sing in the background and Artie was shoved into the sidelines of his own solo.

It was a mess.

"We suck," said Rachel, her shoulders drooping as Brad on the piano played the last note.

"We just need to keep rehearsing," said Mr. Schuester, wearily leaning against the piano.

"Mr. Schuester, do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to give the lead solo to Sit Down You're Rockin' The Boat to a boy in a wheelchair?" asked Rachel, gesturing to Artie in her white leather gloves.

Mr. Schuester blinked uncomfortably.

"I think Mr. Schue's using irony to enhance the performance," said Artie, hitching up his glasses.

Mr. Schuester nodded in agreement. What he said.

"There is nothing ironic about show choir!" snapped Rachel, and stormed out of the choir room, right past Buffy who was walking in.

"What's her deal?" she asked.

"Buffy, can I help you?" asked Mr. Schuester, surprised to see her.

"Uh, yeah, can I talk to you? In private?" asked Buffy.

"Yeah, of course," said Mr. Schuester, hopping to his feet, "Take five guys."

Out in the hall, Buffy looked left and right, but no one was around.

"What's up?" asked Mr. Schuester, folding his arms.

"Santana Lopez didn't come home last night," said Buffy.

Mr. Schuester looked down gravely. "What do we do?" he asked.

"I don't know. Can't the police handle this one?"

"It takes 24 hours to report a missing person. Santana could be dead by then."

Buffy shuddered. "This sucks so bad. This sucks this sucks this sucks," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut. It mainly sucked because she felt like it was her responsibility.

Mr. Schuester looked at her with puppy dog eyes and a serious grimace. "Do you want to train tonight-?"

"No. Just because I'm helping you doesn't mean this slayer thing is happening."

Mr. Schuester sighed and took a few slow, small steps back. "You may not have noticed Buffy, but it's already happening," he said before he went back into the choir room, leaving her alone in the hallway with only her guilty conscience.

Buffy figured as long as she was doing the slayer thing, she could do the friend thing. She found Rachel sulking on the bleachers in the football field behind the gymnasium and took a seat beside her as a truck circled the pitch, painting white lines around the border as it went.

"I'm tired of being laughed at," said Rachel, her brown eyes fixed on the paint truck.

Buffy didn't know what to say. What words of wisdom did she have? She's just barely trying to survive high school, never mind flourish in it.

"Sometimes we have to grin and bear it," said Buffy.

"You don't understand," said Rachel, shaking her head, "You're athletic and beautiful. You could be the next Quinn Fabray. You have it easy around here."

If only you knew, thought Buffy.

"I know I'm just a sophomore, but I can feel the clock ticking away and I don't want to leave high school with nothing to show for it," Rachel continued, "Everybody hates me."

"That's not true!" said Buffy, "I don't hate you."

Rachel squirmed in her seat. "Well, you don't know me."

Buffy sighed. "Aren't you friends with Kurt?"

"We're restroom pals, sure, but you don't see me sleeping over and having spa days and going out on a girls' lunch to Red Lobster."

"Red Lobster?"

"Wherever. The point is…I don't really have any friends. I don't need any when I have my passion: performance. Music! Theatre! Nothing else matters when I have that. I thought with glee club, I could have some sort of out in this town to put my passion to work, but so far it's only been a depressing experience. I need a male lead who can keep up with me vocally."

"Maybe Mr. Schue can coach Artie a little-"

"Buffy, please. Thank you for the support, but I can't keep wasting my time with glee club. It hurts too much."

xxx

Wiggling her toes on the plush pink carpet, Santana checked herself out in Brittany's floor-length mirror. "Ugh," she grunted, wincing at her own reflection.

The night before, she'd climbed into Brittany's window like a creepy kid in Salem's Lot, minus the telekinesis. As Santana anticipated, Brittany wasn't shaken in the least about her best friend's condition.

"You just look like you have the flu," Brittany had said as she helped Santana into the room.

"It's not the flu, Brit," said Santana, wiping beads of sweat off of her forehead, "Trust me."

So without another word, Brittany trusted her. Brittany would trust Santana with her life, and sometimes Santana manipulated that trust. Not more than five minutes after Santana came into Brittany's room, she'd peeled off her Cheerios uniform until she was in nothing but a Victoria's Secret leopard print push-up bra and matching undies. She stayed in that ensemble the entire time as she explained to Brittany exactly what happened; as she slept with Brittany in her bed that night; as Brittany got ready for school the next morning and kept the curtains drawn because it was starting to irritate Santana's skin.

Santana looked at her pallid complexion in the mirror. The more time that passed, the paler and clammier she got; her veins extra blue under her translucent skin. Santana lifted a spicy pink polished finger to her face, feeling it as if to make sure she was really there and not a ghost.

"You don't look like yourself, Tanny," she whispered.

She jumped a mile as she felt something furry on her bare leg. It was Charity again, purring as she rubbed her skull against Santana like she did every time she visited. Damn cat, she glowered in her mind, At least LT has the decency to sit in one place all day licking his junk like the fat lard he is.

Sure enough, another one of Brittany's cats, Lord Tubbington, was slumped in the corner of Brittany's paisley fabric armchair.

Santana jumped again and spun around like lightning as the door creaked open and Brittany poked her head in.

"Brit, you're back!" Santana sighed with relief, barely able to contain a smile.

Brittany tiptoed in like a mouse in a cheerleading costume, with her backpack slumped on her shoulder. She shut the door behind her and removed two large plastic bags of pigs' blood.

"I think we're safe; I told the butcher it was for my cats," said Brittany.

Santana picked up a heavy bag and stuck her finger into the thick red liquid. She licked the blood off of her finger. "Thanks, Brit," she sighed, "I'll need these later. When it happens."

Santana's throat burned dryly, but she wasn't totally craving blood quite yet. She'd been sipping on tap water, wishing it had that essence of life only blood could carry, but when faced with actual blood, it still seemed gross. She just wasn't at the stage where it seemed delicious.

"So when you become a vampire, will you have to sleep in a coffin in my basement? Because they look super uncomfortable," asked Brittany, curling up on the bed with Charity.

"No, I'll just sleep in bed, Brit."

"Will you sparkle?"

"Brittany, no," said Santana, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, "I'm just trying to figure out what to do next. Did you talk to Quinn today?"

"Sure, we said hi in the morning and at lunch she talked about the new skirts-"

"About me, Brit!"

"Oh, well, not really. I don't think there's anything she can do," said Brittany, fiddling with the hem of her cheerleading skirt.

"Great," Santana sighed, falling back onto Brittany's bed, "What do we do now?"

"Well, Quinn can't do anything, but maybe my mom knows someone who can."

"I don't want to talk to your mom about this, Brit. She might not understand."

"Sure she will," said Brittany, turning on her stomach and playing with one of Santana's extensions.

"My parents are leaving town for a few months tomorrow. I should probably go home. Hide out there."

"Yeah. OK," said Brittany, a little disappointed, "But they're going to find out someday."

Santana sighed, staring up at Brittany's white ceiling. "I know, Brit. I know."

xxx

Buffy's second day in Lima, Ohio, was much better than her first. She could even go as far as to say it was good, if she didn't still have the nagging feeling she should be slaying something. That night, she'd gone home and started her homework feeling like maybe she could fit in after all. Just as she'd finished off the last question in her History homework - albeit, badly - she'd received a text from Kurt asking her if she'd like to go to dinner with him and his friend Mercedes at a place called Breadstix. 'Sounds good', she'd texted back, and arrived with her Ralph Lauren jacket on the crook of her elbow for her new friend to borrow.

"I mean, Finn's stumbling all over the place trying to figure out step ball change. He almost fell on me and crushed me flat," laughed Kurt over his caeser salad, "His clumsiness is kind of endearing, though."

"At least he didn't try to bust my face!" laughed Mercedes, the ice tinkling at the top of her glass of lemonade.

"Aha, yes, out of nowhere, Rachel does this kick in the air-"

"I almost got a face full of foot," said Mercedes.

"And Mercedes says-"

"I said, 'Aw, hell nah! You try and bust my face again, and I will cut you."

Buffy giggled. She was happy with how easily she was fitting in with Kurt and Mercedes. Breadstix was a nice break from getting groped by strangers and denied by bouncers on the club scene in L.A. The breadsticks were stale, the ice tea was bland and the carbonara was too goopy, but Buffy didn't really care.

"Excuse me, ladies, I have to go to the little boys' room," said Kurt, sliding out of their booth.

Buffy had 20/20 vision and she wasn't at all lost on the look of longing in Mercedes' eyes as she watched Kurt saunter away. Oh no, thought Buffy, Does Mercedes like Kurt? Buffy wasn't one to judge (usually) but it was a little hard to miss how, uh... fabulous... Kurt was. She wasn't so sure Mercedes was his type.

"So, Mercedes. Any cute boys in Lima?" asked Buffy.

Mercedes wrinkled her nose. "Not really. I mean, there are some good looking guys at school, but most of them are idiots."

"Well, how do you know if you don't give 'em a chance?"

"I guess. I think I'm just waiting for the right guy."

"But who's to say who the right guy is if you don't try a few out first? Find your type. High school is the time for experimenting."

"I thought that was college."

"Whatever. You don't want to find one perfect guy and be stuck with him for all of your teen years. You have to kiss a few frogs before you marry a prince."

Mercedes shrugged and swirled her plastic bendy straw around in her lemonade. "There aren't exactly a line of guys knockin' down my door, y'know."

"Mercedes, you're beautiful, hilarious, intelligent 21st century girl! No one's stopping you from asking someone out. Any guy would be happy to accept, I'm sure."

As Mercedes blushed, Buffy saw someone entering Breadstix out of the corner of her eye.

"Uh, excuse me, I'll be back in a minute," said Buffy, rising out of her seat.

Rachel folded her arms over her harvested honey coat and scanned Breadstix from where she stood for Buffy and the others. She blinked in surprise as Buffy was heading right towards her in a sweet pink daydress.

"Rachel! What's up? Are you meeting someone here?" asked Buffy.

Rachel blinked. "N-No. Well, yes! I'm here to meet you!"

"Huh?"

"Did you tell Mr. Schuester that I needed a male lead?"

"Well, yeah-"

"Buffy, how could you?"

"How could I?" asked Buffy, baffled, "It's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"Perhaps, but now Mr. Schuester's talking to Coach Tanaka, trying to work out how a football player can dually be a glee club member. Do you see what you've done?"

Buffy furrowed her brow and tried to think back. She remembered being there for Rachel as she theatre-geeked out about the importance of a male lead who could keep up with her vocally in glee club, and she remembered telling Mr. Schuester that, and Mr. Schue telling her he'd heard a football jock singing in the locker room...

"Buffy, glee club is a safe haven for high school's social outcasts, not another opportunity for a cool kid to get even more limelight! I bet it's that horrendous Dave Karofsky. He used to be in theatre club in middle school. I bet he's coming back to the arts to steal my solos! This is even worse than if I never-"

"Rachel. Chill. It's not Dave whoever. It's that Finn Hudson guy. Quinn Fabray's boyfriend," said Buffy.

Rachel's mouth fell open in a little 'o' as she lost her train of thought. "Finn Hudson... Oh. That's-I didn't know he could sing. I mean, he's always slumming it with those other jocks, I just thought... I mean, I always knew he was too good for any of them..."

Buffy let Rachel trail on as she swivelled her head around to make sure Mercedes wasn't getting annoyed waiting for her. But Buffy's face fell as she saw Mercedes wasn't there at their booth. Buffy didn't have to scan Breadstix long to spot Mercedes in her multi-color zebra print t-shirt heading out of the back entrance, with a boy. She met someone already, Buffy thought, baffled. But as she looked a little longer at the would-be couple leaving the building, she noticed something not quite right about this boy. The pallid complexion, the chilling stare... and something that wasn't visible. Something that was just a sixth sense to Buffy. Oh my God, thought Buffy, Mercedes left with a vampire.

xxx

Brittany rapped her knuckles against the thick front door and rang the doorbell over and over. The night was falling quickly over Lima Heights and Brittany had to see her best friend. She could imagine leaving Santana all on her own at a time like this. She remembered when her cat Charity had toxoplasmosis. She kept coughing up furballs into the cat food she refused to eat and could barely walk on her sour muscles. Well, Brittany's first guess was that Santana ate some bad meat from her uncle's deli and had toxoplasmosis, but according to Santana, it was something much worse.

"Are you sure she's home?"

Brittany had brought her mother, Phoebe, along with her to the Lopez house to check on Santana. She didn't know who else to turn to. She'd asked Quinn for her help, like Santana told her to, but the head cheerleader had seemed unable to do anything about.

"I'd help if I could, Brittany, but I don't hold that kind of power. I'm sorry, but maybe we'll have to let Santana go," Brittany recalled her other friend saying that day at school.

With the help of that weird gothy Asian glee club girl, Brittany researched how to stop the transformation from healthy human to soulless vampire, but everything seemed to require a witch or a demon. Phoebe Pierce wasn't in the vengeance business anymore, but perhaps she knew someone who could help.

Brittany knocked on the door, harder and harder until it swung open into the shadowy hallway of Santana's home. Phoebe shivered but Brittany stepped inside, fearless. She knew Santana would never hurt her. Would she?

Phoebe couldn't help but gasp as she followed Brittany into the Lopez family's living room, a darkened den with a wall dedicated to an enormous portrait of Santana's great great grandmother in a wine colored gown. There Santana was, under the portrait on the family's black fabric couch that Dr. Lopez would watch Mad Men on his TeeVo on after work. She was still in her underwear, the throw pillow under her head drenched in sweat. Brittany didn't hesitate. She slipped off her cardigan and used it to mop Santana's forehead.

Phoebe hovered close by the girls. She didn't want to flip the lightswitch. She feared Santana's clammy complexion would be much more horrifying under the ceiling lamp.

"It's OK, San," whispered Brittany, "I'm here."

Santana's chest wavered as she struggled to breath. She blinked her brown eyes in recognition. "You should go, Brit."

"I'm not leaving you."

Santana closed her eyes. She was too tired to fight her. "I love you."

"I love you too, Santana."

"Santana," Phoebe said softly, kneeling down to the girl's level, "Is this really- Are you really becoming, a-a-"

"Vampire," Santana sighed, her voice hoarse and quiet, "I was bitten."

"What happened?" asked Phoebe.

Santana tried to breath in as much oxygen as she could. "I was out, with Puckerman and the boys," said Santana, "And Puck... changed... everything was a blur, I just knew I had to get away. I ran all the way... " she stopped mid-sentence as if talking was too much.

"It's OK. You don't have to talk if you don't want to," said Brittany.

Phoebe bit her lip. This was the most serious she's ever seen her daughter.

"I ran into town. Downtown," Santana rasped, "I ran into Matt. He looked different, but... He bit me. He bit my neck and... dropped some blood in my mouth. And then I got away. I ran to Brittany."

"Wait, what were you running away from?" asked Phoebe.

"Puckerman. He... Puck changed."

"Changed into what?" asked Brittany.

"A wolf. Puckerman... Puckerman's a werewolf."

xxx

Tonight was not good for Buffy's Jimmy Choos. Oh no, this is not happening, uh uh, thought Buffy, that girl will not be eaten just because I showed up! She stormed off, out of the back door of Breadstix, where they kept the pasta filled dumpsters. Buffy turned as she heard the soft clicking noise of Rachel's Marc Jacobs evening sandals.

"Rachel, get out of here!" said Buffy, "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"I will not be ignored or avoided, Buffy Summers!" said the girl, folding her arms defiantly.

Buffy rolled her hazel eyes and swivelled her head around for any sign of Mercedes. With Rachel following closely behind her, she turned the corner and went on full defence mode as she was faced with a tall figure. She pinned them against the wall and clutched at her side for her -

Where's my stake? she thought. But it didn't matter. Quinn Fabray didn't need to be staked. Buffy let go like Quinn was on fire when she realized who she'd pinned against the wall behind Breadstix. With a few Cheerios muttering behind her, Quinn Fabray clutched at her throat in shock.

"Are you insane?" Quinn shouted.

"Sorry, I- Have you seen Mercedes?" asked Buffy.

"Why, do you want to attack her, too?" Quinn asked snarkily, but Buffy only pushed past her in search for Mercedes.

"Buffy, what was that?" asked Rachel clutching her bag to her chest.

Buffy winced as they were joined by another pair of clicking heels. Kurt gripped his man-purse over his shoulder and rushed over to the girls looking confused.

"Why did you guys leave? I had to pay for your carbonara!" he cried.

"Look, I'm sorry, but Mercedes left with a guy-"

"A guy? No way. Go 'Cedes!" cheered Kurt.

"We have to find her!" Buffy shouted a little too loudly as she whirled her head around to glare at Rachel and Kurt.

"Buffy, calm down, I'm sure Mercedes is fine-" said Rachel.

"And I'm sure she's not. Trust me! If we don't find Mercedes soon... we might never find her again."

xxx

"I know a short cut."

"Through the graveyard?"

There was something different about Matt Rutherford. Not that Mercedes spent a lot of time looking at him, but he definitely wasn't his cute self. Maybe he'd become a bad boy since he transferred from McKinley. Maybe his family moved to the wrong side of the tracks, and now he was a leather-clad ladies man with a tooth pick balanced on his bottom lip. Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe he was just sick.

With her hand in his, Matt led Mercedes through the Lima Cemetery, up to what looked like a giant mausoleum. Like the gentleman he wasn't, he pushed the rickety door open and stood behind her. "Ladies first," he said.

Mercedes stared into the dark, damp interior of the tomb and wrinkled her nose and the smell of rotting flesh.

"I don't know what cheap thrills you get from creepin' on dead people, but I sure as hell know that this aint' the way to Ben and Jerry's. Buh bye," said Mercedes, but she didn't get to do so much as a hair flip before Matt pushed her down into the tomb.

"Aw hell nah!" she yelled, steadying herself as she stood in the square mausoleum at the end of the stone grave that was in there.

The couple was almost immediately joined by two familiar faces.

"Pinky, finally," Matt said, rolling his maroon colored eyes.

"That's Sir Dagger to you, Shaft."

"Mr. Ryerson?" Mercedes said, mouth open in shock.

The last person she ever would've imagined being there was her school's former glee club instructor and drama teacher. Sandy Ryerson stepped down into the crypt in his suede shoes, smoothing down his mustard colored dress shirt with a horrendously pink sweater draped around his broad shoulders.

"Mercedes Jones. What a pleasant surprise," said Mr. Ryerson, quickly followed in by someone else.

"Jacob?" asked Matt, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "You couldn't find anyone better for the Master than this bag of bones?"

Jacob Ben Israel stumbled in after Mr. Ryerson, a little blood trickling down his cargo vest.

"What did you do to him?" Mercedes cried, her stomach turning at the sight of Jacob's blood.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Mercedes was starting to tell what was so different about Matt Rutherford and Sandy Ryerson. Maybe it wasn't the glow of the moon outside that was making their skin so pale, and maybe it wasn't her imagination that their eyes seemed... red? No, 'Cedes, you're just freakin' yourself out, she thought to herself. But she was so sure she could see the smallest hint of blood on Mr. Ryerson's lips. Mercedes made a dash for the exit, but Mr. Ryerson jumped back, blocking the doorway.

"Let us go!" screamed Mercedes.

Matt chuckled darkly behind her. "Our fun has just begun."

As Matt and Sandy slowly began to move in closer to Mercedes, circling her, her heart started to pound against her chest. She was terrified and all she could think of was how she never got a real chance to live, when all of a sudden, Matt vanished, bursting into dust. The leftover particles of what was once Matt Rutherford floated to the floor, revealing a daunting figure brandishing a weapon behind him. Or, more accurately, a short teenage girl brandishing a tree branch.

"I hate to be a party pooper, but your fun is coming to an abrupt end," said Buffy, who spun and gave Mr. Ryerson an impressive kick to the chest, sending him flying back on top of the stone coffin.

"Kurt! Rachel! Take these two to safety!" ordered Buffy as she twirled and landed on the coffin on her feet.

Rachel and Kurt stared with wide eyes as the new girl - the small, fragile-looking, peppy new girl - attempted to stab Sandy Ryerson with a tree branch. Unfortunately, he caught her wrist before she could stake him, and kicked her square in the chest, knocking her off the coffin. She jumped back up on her feet as Sandy Ryerson slid off the coffin lid, and she kicked him in the stomach before sending blow after blow to his face. Rachel would've been mesmerised by the girl's lethal fighting skills, but Kurt shook her out of her awe. With Kurt on one side and Mercedes on the other, they lifted Jacob Ben Israel out of the crypt, and Rachel followed closely. Before she could leave the mausoleum, though, she turned her head for one last look at the brawl. She winced as Sandy punched Buffy in the face, but Buffy took it in stride, and ducked down to trip up Sandy with her feet. She kicked him while he was down, ready to stake at any time now-

"Rachel!"

Rachel jumped and ran out of the tomb, quickly behind her friends.

"Where's the way out?" asked Rachel, not hesitating to step in front of them, taking the lead.

"This way," said Kurt, walking through the cemetery as best he could with Jacob draped over his shoulders.

The four teenagers crossed the graveyard as quickly as they could, not even stopping to process what they just saw. Rachel's heartbeat sped up just a fraction as she spotted the exit gates in the distance.

"Almost there," she murmured to herself, when suddenly a figure flashed by her.

She gasped emphatically and stopped in her tracks, the heels of her red velvet evening sandals sinking in the dirt. Rachel whipped around to her three friends.

"Did you see that?" she gasped.

"See what?" asked Kurt, his eyes wide in fear.

Mercedes bit the inside of her cheeks and urged on. "Keep going! We're almost out!" she said, when suddenly Kurt fell over; hard.

The girls stood frozen as a tall, thin figure pushed Kurt out of the way and pulled Jacob out of Mercedes grip, fleeing away with him into the woods, too quickly for the others to even recognise who took him.

"Jacob!" Mercedes cried, almost thoughtlessly running after him until Rachel gripped her shoulders and pulled her back. They stared into the darkness of the forest, wondering what was really in there. Kurt stood up and brushed off his sweater.

"We need to get out of here. Before something gets us," he said in a hushed tone, wary that someone - or something - might hear him.

"Guys!"

The three of them screamed and almost jumped out of there skin as they whipped around.

"Chill!" said Buffy, holding her hands, "It's me!"

"Did you kill Mr. Ryerson?" asked Mercedes.

"No. Coward ran away. Where's Jacob?"

"Someone... something took him," said Rachel.

Buffy bit her bottom lip and looked all around, as if Jacob would somehow appear before her.

"We should look for him," said Rachel.

"No," said Buffy, much to Rachel's surprise, "I don't know how many are out here. I need to get you guys to safety. I'll look for him tomorrow."

"What if tomorrow is too late?" said Rachel.

"It's a chance we have to take!" Buffy said forcefully, her chest rising up and down rapidly, catching her breath after the first fight she had since she was back in L.A. Yeah, she thought to herself, There really is no escaping this.

xxx

Phoebe closed the car door behind her, the chilly night air and the darkness of Lima Heights spookier than it ever was before. The passenger seat door opened and closed, and Phoebe was joined by an old friend.

"I cannot believe I got out of bed for you," said Terri Delmonico, "You know, being a vengeance demon doesn't pay the bills. I still have to get up at noon tomorrow to go to Sheets 'n Things. It's not going to assistant manage itself."

"Terri," said Phoebe, "This is important. And you owe me one."

Terri frowned and crossed her arms in her striped blue cardigan, shivering in the cold. "Tell me. Did Doug finally leave you for his receptionist?"

"It's not like that," said Phoebe, leading Terri up the front yard path of the Lopez house.

Terri followed reluctantly into the spacious home, looking the gorgeous architecture and the lavish decor up and down with envy in her eyes. Terri was awoken from her jealous daydreaming as Phoebe gasped in the doorway of the living room. She flipped the light switch and illuminated the den. Terri eyed Phoebe's daughter, slumped on the couch, alone in the Lopez's home. What is going on here? thought Terri. She had assumed that when Phoebe had called her up in the middle of the night for a 'favor', it was either sexual - which was unlikely, because she hadn't expressed an interest like that since college - or it was a vengeance thing, because her husband Doug had been caught cheating or he quit his job, but now she was just confused. What did Carmen and Marcelo Lopez's home, or Phoebe's vapid daughter, have to do with anything?

"What's going on, Phoebe?" asked Terri, a hand on one slumped hip.

Phoebe rushed to her daughter, who looked a little weak, gripping her cardigan to her neck.

"Where's Santana? What happened? Are you OK?" asked Phoebe, hands draped over her daughter's thin shoulders.

"She left," croaked Brittany, wincing a little.

"Baby, what happened?" asked Phoebe, gently laying a hand on the cardigan Brittany was holding to her neck.

Brittany slowly pulled the cardigan away to show her mother. Phoebe's stomach turned simply at the sight of the blood stains on Brittany's white sweater, but her heart beat with rapid speed as she saw two puncture wounds in Brittany's neck under the smear of dried blood on her skin.

"Oh, honey," Phoebe cooed, and wrapped her arm around her daughter's waist, lifting her up and slowly leading her into the kitchen.

"A vampire? A vampire did that? How did... how did it get into the house? Does this have something to do with the favour I owe you?" asked Terri, following them into the kitchen as Phoebe sat Brittany down at one of the chairs circling the polished mahogany breakfast table.

"Yes," Phoebe said blankly as she rifled through the pristine white wood kitchen cabinets.

Terri opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, looking for words to say. "I don't... Is Doug a vampire?"

Finding a first aid kit in one of the cabinets, Phoebe brought the bulky green box to the table and started to dab rubbing alcohol on Brittany's neck wound as she winced like a little girl.

"This has nothing to do with Doug," said Phoebe as she patched up Brittany's wound with a square cotton bandage.

"Then what is this, Phoebe?"

"Santana Lopez is a vampire, and I need you to fix it!"

Terri's eyes widened. "Santana Lopez. A vampire? Well, that's ironic."

"You need to help us."

"I don't deal with this kind of thing, Phoebe. Not vampires-"

"But you can! You can help us, you just won't!"

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying... I can do a lot. I can change people into a lot of things. But vampires... They're different. To change them back into a human? It's almost out of my hands. It's not the same as just doing a spell to make someone a giant worm. With a vampire, their whole essence is different."

"Terri, please..." said Phoebe, her eyes full of desperation.

The truth was, Santana had been Brittany's best friend since the girls were eight years old, and inseparable for as long as Phoebe could remember. Santana's parents were always too busy to, well, parent her. They had their own destiny, the same destiny they forced on Santana since birth. They didn't seem to see their daughter as much more than a plot device in the story of their legacy. But Phoebe had grown to love her like a daughter.

Terri didn't know why the Lopez girl meant so much to her old friend, but she could see it was important.

"Phoebe, I can't change her back. And I can't turn back time, because destiny seems to have a way of finding you at some point. I should know. But, that doesn't mean there isn't something I can do for you."

"What is it? Anything."

"It's a spell. It won't be a cure or a perfect solution, but it'll be better than nothing," said Terri.

"Terri. What is it?"


	3. The Master

**Chapter 3**

**The Master**

Day three in Lima, Ohio, and Buffy has already been sent to see a therapist. Okay, so Ms. Pillsbury wasn't a therapist, but she was close enough, with her concerned doe eyes and wall of pamphlets. Buffy squirmed nervously in the polyester chair opposite the guidance counselor.

"Buffy, I know how hard it can be to transfer to a new school, not to mention a whole new town, but given time, you can learn to adapt," said Ms. Pillsbury, who blinked nervously when Buffy didn't reply, "How are you finding Lima?"

"It's... okay."

"Have you made any friends?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Can I ask why I'm here?"

Ms. Pillsbury pursed her thin, pink lips and turned the pages of a paper folder with a miniature pair of tongs. Buffy eyed the strangely familiar hunk of paperwork. Is that... Is that my permanant record? she thought, panicked.

"We just feel concerned that you're having trouble adapting at McKinley."

"I'm not! No trouble. No trouble at all."

"Because you seem to have quite a reputation at your school in Los Angeles."

"Well, I may have gotten in trouble once or twice-"

"You burned down the gym."

"I know. But nothing like that will happen here! I promise."

Ms. Pillsbury laid her huge eyes right on Buffy, keeping her lips closed tight and serious. "You attacked Quinn Fabray last night."

Buffy could feel the color draining from her face. Great, she thought, Just great.

"That was a misunderstanding-"

"Quinn's not pressing charges, thankfully. She's not angry, Buffy, she's concerned."

"I'll bet she is," Buffy muttered.

"She came to me to suggest you and I have scheduled sessions. She's worried about your well-being Buffy, and so am I."

Buffy gritted her teeth. What did Quinn Fabray have against her, anyways? Sure, she pinned her to a wall yesterday, but that had been an honest mistake. It felt like Quinn was trying to maintain Buffy's rep as an abysmal one since they met.

"So, Buffy, I'd like you and I to have a chat, every day, during free period."

Buffy sat up straight, mouth opening in protest, but she couldn't seem to think of a solid argument for why she shouldn't have to see the school guidance counselor on a regular basis.

"But... I have... glee club."

Ms. Pillsbury looked surprised. "Glee club? Well... I'm sure we can work around that," she said, when she suddenly looked up to her doorway, eyes lighting up, "Will!"

Buffy turned around to see Mr. Schuester poking his head in the doorway, grinning dorkily.

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Oh, no! Not at all!"

Buffy dropped her head to the side and gave Ms. Pillsbury an 'are you serious?' look, but she didn't even notice. All eyes were on 'Will'.

"Good. Can I steal Buffy from you?" he said with his crooked smile, tweaking the counselor's heart like he knew he could.

"Of course!" she said, her eyes wider than they usually were, if that were possible, "You probably have some glee club business to attend to."

"Glee...?"

"Because I joined glee club. Remember?" asked Buffy, widening her eyes knowingly.

"Of course," said Mr. Schuester, nodding, "Yeah, Buffy. Our little performer."

"Okay, well, I'll talk to you another time, Buffy, and we'll work out a schedule," said Ms. Pillsbury as Buffy stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"Great," she replied through gritted teeth, following Mr. Schuester out of the room.

xxx

Rachel smacked the front page of The Daily Lima down on the choir room's grand piano.

"What's this?" asked Buffy.

Rachel rested her hand on the waist of her pink and gray argyle sweater, as if Buffy should already know. "Four people turned up dead last night," she said, looking grave, "...They were drained of blood."

Everyone looked at each other. Classes hadn't started yet, and Mr. Schuester, Buffy, Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes were alone in the choir room. Is this some sort of meeting? wondered Buffy.

"Now that we know what's really out there, I say we tell the state authorities. They need to know," said Rachel with a tone of finality, hands on her small hips.

"No. They wouldn't be able to handle it even if they did know," said Buffy.

"But you handled it," said Mercedes, leaning against the piano, "You saved my life. Don't you think the police can handle it if you can?"

Buffy sighed and stared at the ground. They would never understand.

"Buffy's a slayer. The chosen one. Don't tell anybody," said Mr. Schuester.

Okay, maybe now they understand.

"Will!" Buffy exclaimed, hitting her teacher on the arm.

"Slayer...?" Rachel repeated, confused.

"The chosen one?" asked Mercedes.

"Will?" said Kurt, raising a finely plucked eyebrow.

"Yeah, a slayer," said Buffy, "I kill vampires. I'm kind of... superhuman."

"That explains a lot," says Kurt.

"That's... amazing," said Rachel, clearly in awe.

"It sucks, actually, but it's what I have to do. So I'm going to find Jacob. On my own."

"But we can help-" said Rachel.

"No, you can't! I'm forbidding it."

Rachel's jaw dropped, scandalized. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"I just did!"

"Girls, girls..." said Mr. Schuester, raising his hands half-heartedly.

"Do you know where to start looking?" Mercedes asked.

Buffy bit her bottom lip. She didn't, and it showed. Rachel smiled smugly.

"Well, they're probably in the sewers," said Buffy.

"The sewers?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah. Vamps, they like to stay in dark places. Nothing fancy. Crypts and stuff. So to avoid the sun, and other people, they tend to travel through the sewers."

"Then that's where we should go," Rachel said, obviously bent on taking the lead.

"Don't you get it? There is no 'we'! I'm the slayer, you're not," said Buffy.

Rachel's mouth turned down in a glaring frown. She was struck with the feeling of inadequacy. It was new to her and she didn't like it.

"I'm not too eager to be facing sewer monsters, but I still want to help," said Mercedes, peering at Buffy with her glittery brown eyes, "I need to."

"Mercedes is right," Kurt chimed in, "We have to help. If you hadn't shown up yesterday..."

He trailed off, looking a little green.

"Well, you can help me," said Mr. Schuester, "If Buffy needs to get into the sewers to save Jacob, than we'll need blueprints of the underground tunnel system, to find an entrance."

"How do we get those?" asked Rachel.

"Well, we could call up the city council-"

"We so don't have time," said Buffy.

"Guys, I think I know a way," said Mercedes.

xxx

Crouched in a corner of a mausoleum with her back against the wall, Santana watched a cockroach crawl in circles on the filthy concrete floor. Her full attention wasn't on the bug - her mind was elsewhere, circling the details of last night over and over again. There was that final moment. She couldn't remember completely, but she could almost recollect how it felt to one minute be close to death and the next to be at your peak of clarity. She only had one thing on her mind: pleasure. Nothing else mattered and there were no consequences. Blood, sex, adrenaline. It was all she wanted, all she needed, and there was no other emotion or worry or responsibility in her way.

The first thing she saw in that moment - that moment when she became a goddess - was Brittany. That Aphrodite who was always so close but so far away. Before, Santana was held back by the pressures of society. What would my parents think? What would people say about me? Would she even want me? But none of that mattered now. Santana wasn't apart of any society; she didn't need to be. She belonged to the night, and the night bore all possibilities. And if Brittany didn't want her? Then screw her. Santana could have any one she wanted. And in those first few minutes she didn't know whether to kiss Brittany or to kill her. The fiery burn in her throat made her decision much easier. She sank her teeth into Brittany's buttery skin and drank. And boy was her blood refreshing. In it was some sort of intoxicating spark of electricity - That's so Brit, Santana had thought, and when the girl's eyes rolled back and she became limp, a voice in the back of Santana's mind told her, That's enough. You'll want her for later.

And with the arrogant demeanor Lopez women just naturally had, Santana went to her mother's mini bar and made herself an Orange Blossom martini before she left the house in a sexy low cut leather dress and wreaked havoc on Lima. Santana was subtle, though. A Lopez was never sloppy. She'd snatch away a boy or a girl around the corner of a dive bar, soaking up not only their invigorating blood but their alcohol, too.

It wasn't until she was behind a crypt, sucking the life out of that little Jewish dweeb from celibacy club, when she felt it. Something, filling her heart and making it whole, and suddenly, everything came back to her. She didn't feel like a goddess - not anymore, or like she belonged to the night. She felt like she belonged to no one and this whole night had been a mistake, every drop of blood she drank, every life she took, Oh God, what have I done? she started to think. She felt her sharp fangs and her cold skin and her heart that no longer beat. She was still a vampire. So why, all of a sudden, did she feel so human? So wrong and guilty and scared. "Make it stop," Santana whispered, still clutching on to the boy. She looked down at him and he didn't reply. He was pale - drained. Santana dropped him like hot coal and ran, just short of the exit gates, until she remembered she couldn't go home.

Brittany, she thought, guilty and terrified. She couldn't go back. Not after what she did to her best friend. The sun was starting to rise, and the no-consequences-Santana was gone with the night. Now she had to deal with the aftermath. And how did she deal? She crouched in a dirty crypt behind a stone grave and let her thoughts consume her. What else could she do? Right now, she couldn't really care about herself. You deserve this, she thought, staring at the dust and dirt under her feet, when she heard a footstep. Jumping up with her lightning fast reflexes and bearing her teeth, she twirled around to see ... Mr. Ryerson?

"Whoa, Nelly. Down girl," he said, grinning in amusement, showing off one pearly white incisor.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here? This is my territory, Senorita."

"Oh. Sorry..."

"So Shaquille told me he sired a pretty young thing, but never would I have thought, Santana Lopez. Bane of my existence. If you weren't stripping the spirit from my glee club, you were stripping the clothes from my theater kids."

"I should go-"

"Oh no, please stay. We saw how you left that nasally kid for dead last night."

Santana looked at her feet, a ball building in her throat. She did, didn't she? She drained Jacob of his blood and left him to die. She couldn't imagine how scared he must've been. And yet she could. She felt it. His fear had been like crack to her, until it wasn't. Until everything she did made her sick.

"Don't worry. We took care of him. Your sire got dusted by that blond tramp, so our coven's down one, and the Master needs as much help as possible."

"No, thanks."

"No thanks?" Mr. Ryerson started to laugh, his diamond studded glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, "No one says no thanks to the Master."

"Well, I'm saying no thanks," snapped Santana, "Just leave me alone."

Mr. Ryerson's expression quickly turned unpleasant and unamused. "Tonight is the night of the Harvest and our Master will walk once more. Stand rogue and see how far you get under the rule of the Master and the pending doom that is the opening of the Hellmouth."

"Whatever," Santana sighed, taking about as much notice of him as she did of the old ladies who would show up on her doorstep demanding her to find Jesus.

Mr. Ryerson frowned sourly. "You don't wish to serve the Master, you don't belong in here," he said, and with pure force shoved her out of the crypt.

She hissed as she felt the sun fall on her skin, and she threw her body at the door, but Mr. Ryerson was already locking it. Santana fled around the corner, in the shade behind the mausoleum. She sank to the ground and held her head in her hands. She though that cold, dusty crypt was what she deserved. Turns out, she doesn't deserve even that.

She knelt down and sat on her legs, only to suddenly be shocked by a burning feeling on the back of her calf. She whipped off one of the knee high black boots she'd stolen from her mother's closet and out fell a necklace. Santana leaned down and looked closer at the chain. It had a cross on it - real silver. Santana sighed, annoyed, as she spied the cross shaped burn mark on the back of her leg. Her parents were devout Christians - it was just like her mom to keep a cross in one of her shoes. Santana picked it up by it's chain and held it at arm's length. She hadn't even begun to consider the impending doom that was Hell, if ever she were to die. That's what I deserve, she thought to herself, staring at the cross as it dangled mockingly on it's chain, side to side as the breeze blew by.

xxx

Buffy didn't know how she didn't see it before, but Rachel Berry was kind of... terrifying. Not that Rachel hadn't proven to be friendly and helpful if not controlling and abrasive, but on stage, Finn's looks of terror were all too understandable. Rachel sauntered and shimmied closer and closer to the poor oafish boy as they sang _You're The One That I Want_. It looked less like flirting and more like Rachel was closing in on her prey.

Buffy could just imagine whipping out her stake if she ever bumped into Rachel in a graveyard one night. Speaking of my stake, thought Buffy. She'd gone back home last night and searched everywhere for Mr. Pointy. Sure, she had a few extras lying in the secret compartment of the chest at the end of her bed, but she couldn't find her stake, the one she had from the get go, that her first watcher gave her back in L.A. That stake was kind of a security blanket. Now, she'd lost it, and every seemed to be going awry.

Being a slayer wasn't even supposed to happen again, and here she was, with half the world knowing about her secret identity. OK, so half the world was a bit of an exaggeration. The only people who knew were Mr. Schuester, her watcher, Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes, and now some kid named Artie. Mercedes had urged Buffy this morning to let her friend Artie get the blueprints for the underground tunnel system online because he's such a computer whiz, but Buffy had been reluctant.

"No, I do not want yet another person finding out. This is supposed to be a secret identity. As in, no one knows about. And now over half of glee club has assembled some vampire slaying squad!" she'd said this morning.

"Buffy, what's one more person?" Kurt had said.

"And he can help us. Don't you want to find Jacob?" Rachel had said.

So Buffy was guilted into letting some kid named Artie help her. She didn't like it.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked up. At some point during New Directions' rehearsal she'd zoned out, staring into the depths of the gray polyester auditorium carpet.

"Yeah?"

Mr. Schue sat down beside her in the front seat. "You're going to have to perform with us at some point."

"Yeah, about that. I only joined glee club to get out of having to talk to Ms. Pillsbury every day-"

"Why do you have to talk to Emma every day?"

"She thinks I'm a delinquent. I burned down my old gym and I attacked Quinn Fabray-"

"You attacked Quinn Fabray?"

"It was a misunderstanding! I thought she was a vampire. Anyways, now I'm forced to see the school therapist and, b-t-dubs, it makes me super nauseous to hear you call each other 'Will' and 'Emma', so can we just stick to Mr. Schuester and Bambi?"

"Right ... " Will trailed off as someone leaned over Buffy's seat, and Buffy turned to see a pretty, young-looking Asian girl with royal purple eyeshadow lining her eyes and lacy gloves over her black polished fingers. Buffy was surprised to see her; she thought she would've already noticed a girl who dressed so distinctively on her first two days of school. How did she manage to fade into the background so well? Buffy eyed her black lace Lolita dress.

"B-B-Buffy?" she stuttered.

"Yes?"

The girl smiled warmly. "A-Artie is r-ready for you. He has the b-blueprints in the c-computer room," she said, ducking her head shyly.

Buffy's face fell. How many people know about this? she thought, shooting Mr. Schuester a pained expression, but she got up and followed the girl.

"What's your name?" asked Buffy.

"T-T-Tina."

So that made her list of people who knew about her secret identity longer. Mr. Schue, Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes, some guy named Artie and T-T-Tina.

xxx

Graveyards were so much less daunting in the daytime. With her hands on the tunnel blueprints in the pocket of her leather jacket, Buffy stalked through the cemetery. From what Artie could tell, one of the entrances was in the graveyard.

"How are you guys so cool with all of this?" she'd asked them as she stuffed the blueprints in her pocket.

"Well, it kind of makes sense," said Artie, taking a stake from his messenger bag and handing it to Buffy.

"Mr. Pointy!" she cried.

Artie and Tina shared a small smirk, making Buffy blush.

"Sorry."

"I-I always knew v-vampires were real," smiled Tina.

"You did?" asked Buffy, skeptical.

"Well, I didn't know. B-but I believed."

Buffy nodded. If only people didn't rationalize everything and just believed, Buffy wouldn't have to keep her identity a secret. Buffy thought about that as she searched the graveyard for some hidden entrance. What if she didn't have to fight alone? What if she could tell her mom? Than everyone would know how much Buffy really goes through. They wouldn't just assume she was some disturbed delinquent.

For some reason, it hit Buffy right then and there. The crypt! All her other thoughts floated away as she set on her path to the crypt she fought those vamps last night. Of course, it all made sense. Sandy Ryerson didn't just disappear into thin air. He disappeared into whatever secret entrance was hidden in the mausoleum. This one, Buffy thought as she stepped up to the familiar crypt in the center of the cemetery. Buffy eyed the rickety door. One impressive chain and padlock was wrapped around it. They sure don't want somebody getting in, thought Buffy, when she heard someone clear their throat.

Buffy whipped her head to the side where a girl was peeking around the corner of the crypt, hidden in the shadows.

"Santana?" Buffy asked quietly. She looked different. But, she couldn't be...

"Buffy?" Santana asked, perplexed, "What are you doing here?"

Buffy looked at the locked door of the crypt, reluctant to answer. Just one more person who thinks she's a freak.

"Do you know how to get in?" asked Buffy.

"They really don't like me dropping in."

"Why not?"

"They really don't like me."

Buffy pursed her glossy lips. Something was going on, but both girls had seemed to decide that if Buffy didn't ask about Santana, Santana wouldn't ask about Buffy.

Buffy jumped back, twirled and karate kicked at the door, the lock falling off with ease. Santana mouth fell open a little, but she knew not to ask.

"They said something about a harvest. On the Harvest, the Master will rise. Or something," said Santana.

Buffy nodded, not allowing her face to screw up into confusion. 'Cause as much as she wanted everyone to think she knew what she was doing, she had no idea what was going on most of the time.

"Take this," said Santana, lifting her arm to reveal a chain dangling from her fingertip with a silver cross at the end of it.

"Thanks," said Buffy, taking the chain and tying it around her neck.

"Seeya," Santana said quietly, slipping back away around the corner of the crypt.

Buffy could barely see in the distance of the underground tunnels. She should have known these things would be dark, but what could she do? She stepped ahead, further and further into the tunnel, quiet on her pink Converse. Buffy stopped, frozen still as her ears pricked up and she heard clicky footsteps. Ugh, she thought, What vampire has the gall to walk around in heels with the slayer around? Buffy sprung into attack mode when she felt something bump into her from behind. She spun in a defense stance with her fists up, prepared to fight.

"Buffy, it's me!" Rachel Berry squeaked like a mouse, holding up her hands, her big tartan Anthropologie bag hanging from the crook of her small elbow.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" Buffy hissed, head swiveling around to make sure no vamps heard her little surprise guest.

Rachel pulled her purse tight and lifted her chin up, prepared to give a speech. "Buffy, I, Rachel Berry, know more than anyone what it's like to have a certain destiny, and mine is hard enough to fulfill with my own willpower, but the one thing I can not imagine is to have your destiny handed to you from birth and to have to fulfill all on your own. That's why, as your best friend, I've turned to my selfless side, giving you the privilege you've never had before of an extra helping hand, lifting a load off your small shoulders and paving the way-"

"Yeah, okay, whatever, just stay close and don't get in my way," snapped Buffy, turning back into the tunnel and moving forward. Rachel followed, a little taken aback. After all, she was only trying to help. To ease the burden of Buffy's certain future.

Only Buffy didn't see it like Rachel did. All she saw was a short, big-mouthed girl who needed to be the center of attention absolutely everywhere. Buffy doesn't need help. What she needs is for everyone to leave her alone. And best friend? She met the girl two days ago. Then again, out of all the people Buffy met so far in Lima, Rachel seemed to like her best. Does that make her her best friend? Regardless, Rachel was here, and that was just another thing Buffy had to deal with. That and the clicky sound of her heeled penny loafers.

"Did you have to wear those heels?" Buffy hissed, turning her head.

Rachel smiled triumphantly. "I have another pair in my purse!" she said, not hesitating to throw her heels in her bag and slip on a pair of Tory Burch metallic ballet flats.

"I'm glad to see how prepared you are," Buffy grumbled sarcastically. Just how long was Rachel thinking of going patrolling?

"Jacob?" said Rachel.

Buffy strained her eyes and saw Jacob slumped against the wall of the tunnel a few feet ahead. Buffy and Rachel rushed to him in their flats, Buffy bending over to lift the boy up.

"Jacob, are you okay?"

"I am so not okay," said Jacob, looking nervous, his voice wavering, "They said they wanted to use me as bait."

"Great," mumbled Buffy, "Let's get out of here."

"I know a quicker way out than the way you came," said Jacob.

"Take us there," said Buffy, and Rachel followed quickly behind as Jacob led them further and further into the dark abyss of the Lima underground tunnel system.

"Is this really quicker, Jacob?" asked Buffy after they ventured into the tunnel for about five minutes.

Jacob stopped a little halfway. "There," he said, pointing ahead, both Buffy and Rachel bumping into each other as they struggled to take the lead.

"Would you stop it?" said Buffy.

"Stop what?"

The girls' little argument was cut short as they turned towards the tunnel to hear growling echo through the narrow shaft, and sure enough, a pack of vampires were closing in on them from up ahead.

"Run!" said Buffy, knowing she couldn't stop a pack of vampires that big with Jacob and Rachel to take care of, but as the girls turned around, they sharply inhaled at the sight of Jacob Ben Israel leering over them with his eyes glowing red and bearing sharp fangs.

"Jacob..." Rachel murmured innocently, marveling sadly at the transformation of her once weak and pathetic schoolmate. She would've stayed and been eaten by Jacob and the vampire coven that sired him if Buffy wasn't there, spotting another tunnel to their left.

She took a strong grip of Rachel's arm and dragged her down the tunnel, to a door that was left ajar. Rachel stumbled into the small square room, whimpering as her eyes trailed around the small space caked in grime. With the vampires rushing after them, Buffy tried with all her slayer strength to shut the large metal door, and she did, but the pack of vamps were throwing their bodies at the door from the outside. Even with Buffy's strength, it wouldn't hold for long.

"What do we do?" shrieked Rachel.

As it appeared, the girls were stuck in this small dead end room until the vampires grew tired and left. Which they never would.

"There!" Buffy said, back to the door as she pushed it against the hungry vamps, pointing to a ladder on the wall of the other side of the room. Rachel turned around to see the rungs of the ladder built into the wall, and her eyes led up until she saw it led into a manhole in the ceiling. With no hesitation, Rachel ignored the rust and the grime on the ladder rungs and climbed it anyways, with a little difficulty in her ballet flats and her green houndstooth skirt. She stuck her small hand up and pushed on the manhole lid, shifting it only a little with her minimum strength.

"Rachel, hurry!" cried Buffy, her back aching under the pressure of the metal door.

Rachel pushed with all her might until the lid shifted, making a hole big enough for her to get through. She crawled through the hole and hoisted herself up onto the road just outside of the suburbs at the edge of the cemetery. She blinked in the broad daylight and made sure no one was around to see the strange sight.

Buffy rocked forward as the vamps on the other side almost busted through. "1...2...3," she muttered under her breath before breaking into a small run, leaping onto the ladder and climbing up the rungs with great speed. She could hear the metal door busting open and the vamps pouring in below her. She stuck her head up through the manhole and was about to hoist herself out when a clammy hand grasped her ankle. She was tugged down a little, her fingertips gripping the pavement above ground until another pair of much warmer hands rested on her wrists. They were Rachel's - Rachel's hands pulling her with all the strength she had, which wasn't much. But it was enough. Rachel pulled and Buffy lifted her own weight until her ankle was out in the sun and the vamp's hand burned, and pulled away back into the darkness.

Buffy quickly closed the lid back on the manhole, and let her eyes adjust to the bright sun before she looked over at Rachel who was just as covered in dirt and dust.

"Thank you," said Buffy, breathless.

"Of course," Rachel said quietly, brown eyes still on the manhole, unsettled.

xxx

Sandy, Jacob and the others knelt on the mound of rocks. Jacob winced, but the rest of them were used to the dents of small pebbles on their knees.

"So blondie got away again?"

The all trembled on the spot. Just the Master's voice was enough to send fearful shivers down their spines.

"She traipsed in, fell for the Jew-bait, even brought her juicy little Yentl friend with her. And you still didn't catch them. Is this a coven of vampires or a coven of vampwusses, because I'm starting to think I should just hire the Care Bears to do my dirty work. Answer me!"

The vamps shook at the Master's yell.

"Master, the slayer is strong, and resourceful-" said Sandy

"I've heard the slayer speech, Liberace. She better not get in the way of my Harvest."

"She won't, Master," Sandy whimpered.

"Good. 'Cause I've been sitting on this throne of rock since the 90s and I have a bed sore on my bottom that looks like a rotting apple."

The Master kicked back in her throne made of rock, leering at her minions kneeling just beyond the force field she was imprisoned in since the 90s.

"The Harvest is tonight, and you'll be my vessel, Pink Dagger."

Sandy's eyes lit up at the opportunity.

"I will not let you down, Master."

"And make it a big show, will you? I don't want my revolution to go unnoticed."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Master."

"Good," she said, shaking back her cropped blond hair, "'Cause after tonight, I'll be the cock of the walk, and once again, the only thing that will strike fear in the hearts of the residents of Lima, Ohio is the name Sue Sylvester."

xxx

Emma looked up and couldn't contain a smile.

There was something about the way Will Schuester walked, so carefree in his vests and his sneakers, with the bronze curls on his head bobbing up and down. He caught her eye as the two walked towards each other in the abandoned hallway of McKinley High. He smiled. Oh, that smile. Emma could look at it for days. So honest and cutely crooked.

"Hey, Emma. What's up?" he asked.

Emma melted. She lived for the way Will Schuester said her name.

"Oh, nothing, Will. Just going home. How are you? How's glee club?"

"It's uh, it's good. Well, we need six more members to compete, but, the kids, they work so hard," said Will, looking through the small window on the choir room door. The kids were still in there, with exception of Finn.

"Oh, they're still here? School ended an hour ago."

Will bit the inside of his cheek. "After school rehearsal."

"Right. Great. You're so dedicated."

Will shrugged, smiling crookedly. "I was gonna take them to see this other glee club perform at Carmel High on Saturday. I was actually wondering if you'd want to accompany me. As a chaperone."

Emma's hazel eyes lit up. "I'd love to!" she exclaimed.

"Great," smiled Will, "Well, see you there."

"And then Buffy's holding down the door with all her might while the vamps throw their bodies against it, and you can just hear them snarling on the other side of it, and I look around and I thought I was about to have panic attack because there was no way out, just four walls-" says Rachel, aflutter with emphatic hand gestures. A natural storyteller.

"Until I see these ladders on the other side of the wall leading up to this manhole, and I'm like, 'Rachel, over there!'," Buffy accounts, matching Rachel's passion for the story. She never imagined recounting her experiences as a slayer to her friends - to anyone. It was fun.

"And I leap on as soon as I see the steps and Buffy's still holding back the vampires when I get to the top, and I push-" Rachel mimmicks pushing with both her hands splayed out in front of her, "Those lids are heavier than you'd think."

"And by this point the vamps are just about ready to bust right through."

"And I lunge and push the lid and it opens just enough for me to get through, so I climb out, and then it seems to bright compared to the tunnels."

"And then I leap onto the ladder and the vampires have busted through the door, and as soon as I'm almost out, one grabs my ankle! It probably would've pulled me back in if Rachel hadn't grabbed my hands and pulled me out."

Rachel blushed with faux modesty. "You would've done the same for me."

"Wow. You guys are like s-superheros," stuttered Tina, her laptop balanced on her lap.

"That must have been so scary," said Mercedes.

"It was. It was the most exhilarating day of my life," Rachel grinned.

"So Jacob is a vampire now?" asked Kurt.

Rachel and Buffy's faces fell. They'd been so caught up in the recount of their crazy vampire encounter, they'd forgotten that they'd lost Jacob to the dark side.

"You tried your best," said Mercedes, resting a hand on Buffy's shoulder.

"Didn't do a lot of good," sighed Buffy.

"Hey, guys," said Mr. Schuester, closing the choir room door behind him.

The glee kids were huddled together around the plastic chairs, Tina typing away on her laptop.

"So, what do we got?" he asked, sitting up on Brad's piano.

"Other than a coven of vampires who know the slayer's in town? Squat," said Buffy, "But Tina's researching."

"What are you researching?"

"Buffy t-told me about the H-Harvest. I'm j-just trying to f-find out what it means," stuttered Tina, her head down as she searched for the phrase.

"The Harvest? Where'd you hear that?" asked Mr. Schuester.

Buffy squirmed in her seat. Maybe she wasn't thinking straight, and maybe she'd come to regret it, but she didn't want to tell anyone that she saw Santana yesterday. She had a feeling Santana didn't want anyone knowing where she was. The slayer certainly didn't want the girl spilling to all of her cheerleader friends that she'd seen Buffy skulking around the graveyard.

"I heard some vamps talking about it."

"I didn't hear them saying anything like that," said Rachel.

"Uh, it's because I was holding the door. They were talking about how tonight's the Harvest and the Master will rise."

"The Master?" said Mr. Schuester.

"Uh, yeah. Does that mean anything to you?"

Mr. Schuester rubbed his hands on his jeans. "Well, maybe. When I started teaching, there was this story about how one of the old teachers went on vacation and came back a vampire, wreaked havoc around Lima. Apparently there was no slayer around then, so no one could stop her. She would turn others and force them to her bidding and call her the Master."

"So what happened to her?" asked Artie.

"She tried to open the Hellmouth. A portal to Hell. But instead she triggered an earthquake that buried her, and the Hellmouth with her."

"I f-found something," said Tina.

"What is it?" asked Buffy as the whole gang moved to huddle over Tina's small laptop.

"It's a W-Wiccan forum, t-talking about the H-Harvest," stuttered Tina, under the stare of everyone in the room, "It s-s-says that th-the H-H-H-"

"I'll read it," said Rachel, lifting Tina's computer and holding it on her own lap, "The Harvest is a night that comes once a decade, where the Master's Vessel can drink the blood of the innocent and through the Vessel the Master will gain power to escape her prison. And apparently the Vessel has this symbol."

Rachel turned the laptop around to show everyone a picture of a symbol that looked like it belonged on a car hood.

Buffy furrowed her brow. "I know that symbol."

"Do you know where you saw it?"

Buffy looked harder, and sighed in defeat. "No. But I just dust anyone sporting this look and we're good to go, right? No Master to have to deal with."

"That sounds about right," said Mr. Schuester, rocking back and forth in his cream colored sneakers.

"Where do you suppose they'll be tonight?" asked Buffy.

"Probably Breadstix," said Kurt, filing his nails. He looked up from his cuticles and the others were staring at him with an 'elaborate, please' look. "Well, because everybody goes there after school. It's a hot spot for young blood."

Buffy nodded. "He's right. Breadstix it is. Meet me there in an hour. I need to go home first."

"For what?" asked Mr. Schue.

"For weapons."


	4. The Harvest

**Chapter 4**

**The Harvest**

Santana leaned against the wall behind the crypt. She'd watched the shadows move all day, waiting for the sun to disappear. She sighed and her stomach rumbled. That's attractive, she thought. She almost fell asleep waiting for the sun to leave, when a familiar pair of white Keds showed up on the grass in front of her.

"Brittany," Santana breathed, leaping to her feet.

"Are you nice now?" asked Brittany, stepping into the shadows in her red and white Cheerios uniform.

A tear swelled up in Santana's eye as she noticed the white cotton bandage on Brittany's neck, and she nodded profusely.

"Brit, I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

"I know, San," said Brittany.

She opened up her arms and Santana fell into them. It felt so good to be in Brittany's arms again, sobbing on her shoulder and breathing in her scent of sugar, lemon body wash and cat fur. Every sense was heightened.

"You smell so good," Santana breathed in and sighed, leaning out of their hug.

Brittany put her fingertips on Santana's face and dried away the tears. "You smell like blood and vodka. Is that what a Bloody Mary is?"

Santana chuckled and wiped the wetness from her face. "So what happened last night?"

"Mom called her old friend Terri and she sent you your soul back. Did you get it?"

"She got my soul back? That explains it."

Brittany eyed the tears on her shoulder. "We should go home."

"I can't go home, Brit."

"Why not? We can make margaritas and watch TV. One Tree Hill's on tonight."

"No, Brittany, my parents can't find out that I'm a vampire now."

"They have to find out sooner or later. Besides, aren't they gone on a hunting trip?"

"Yeah, gone until Sunday. Where do I go then? What will people think happened to me?"

"We'll figure it out."

Santana sighed. Brittany always said that they'll figure it out. She just assumed that everything would fall in it's place. And maybe for her, it did. But Santana wasn't as lucky.

xxx

Buffy loaded the inside of her leather jacket. Stakes? Check. Holy water? Check. Everything she needed to keep her friends protected and get stuff done.

"Are you going out tonight?"

Buffy whirled around, making sure no tips of her stake were poking out of her zipper. Her mom leaned in against the door-frame.

"Uh huh," said Buffy.

Joyce sighed. Here it comes, thought Buffy.

"Buffy, I don't want to see you falling into your old ways."

"I'm not."

"We relocated because you got kicked out of your old school. I had to start up a new business in this town."

"I know."

"The principal called today. He said you've been skipping classes."

"That's not what it looks like. I was running an errand for the-"

"Buffy, I know it's hard to start up in a new place, but you're a good kid. I don't want to see you veering off the tracks."

"But Mom-"

"The guidance counselor says you attacked a classmate."

Buffy closed her eyes and breathed steadily. Was Quinn Fabray trying to ruin her life?

"That was a misunderstanding-"

"Buffy, please. I think this town could be good for us. I don't want to move again."

"Mom-"

"You're grounded."

"Mom!"

"I'm putting my foot down. All the CDs say I should get used to saying no."

"Mom, I have to go out tonight!"

"I know, I know, if you don't go out tonight, it'll be the end of the world. Everything is when you're a teenager. But you're not leaving this house," said Joyce, closing the bedroom door behind her.

xxx

Rachel stopped herself from picking at her fingernails. It was a bad habit when she got nervous. Nervousness was a rarity for Rachel Berry, but still. She had to control the habit. After all, she was pretty much sitting in a booth waiting for the world to end. And now that she thought about it, this was the first time she'd been to Breadstix with anyone but her dads. And now here she was with Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie.

"Do you think any of us will kill a vampire tonight?" asked Artie.

"I won't. I just buffed my nails," said Kurt, looking wide-eyed and serious.

"I'm so s-scared already," stammered Tina.

"Don't worry, guys," said Mr. Schuester, leaning his head back from his seat into their booth, "Buffy's gonna show up soon and you won't have to wor-"

But before he could finish his sentence, the gang's, and everyone else in the restaurant's attention snapped to the small stage where a jazz band usually played, because the hostess was thrown across the room onto it. She groaned in pain and everyone's heads swiveled around to see who did it. Rachel's stomach dropped as she saw Sandy, Jacob and a hoard of other vampires swaggering in. No one got up to confront them because everyone was staring at their wrinkly monster faces and their glowing red eyes and their dangerous fangs. The vamps spread out, a group of them around each exit.

"Where's Buffy?" Kurt wondered nervously under his breath.

The restaurant collectively gasped as one of the vamps turned the main lights and the music off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there's no cause for alarm," said Sandy, climbing up on stage, "Actually, there is cause for alarm, it just won't do any good."

He laughed profusely at himself until his laughter died down and he said gravely, "Bring me the first."

The gang watched uneasily as a vampire shoved the hostess up into Sandy's arms. Tina had to turn her head into Artie's shoulder as Sandy sunk his teeth into the hostess, draining her after a few long minutes and dropping her to the floor, dead.

"Next!" he called.

Late on the heels of her sneakers, Buffy slammed into the front door of Breadstix. It's locked, she thought fearfully, I'm too late. No. Buffy Summers wasn't gonna let a locked door stop her from saving those people from a massacre. She knew right then she had to put Buffy the teenager behind her and be Buffy the vampire slayer.

Rachel bit her bottom lip. Was Buffy ever going to come? She was just about to block her eyes with her hands as Sandy fed from another waitress, but she looked as she saw - is that? - yes, it is - Buffy! She squirmed through a window and ended up behind the salad bar as Sandy dropped his second victim to the floor.

"Next," he called, but no one could throw him another victim before Buffy leaped on stage and kicked him square in the chest, knocking him to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you in the middle of something?" asked Buffy.

"You," said Sandy, lifting his head.

Buffy's witty smile fell as she saw the gold broach on Sandy's mustard colored men's blouse. She knew she recognized that symbol somewhere.

"Okay, vessel guy, you want blood? Come and get it," says Buffy, and before Sandy could get back up, she slammed a fist in his face.

While he was still on the ground, Buffy took her bag and threw it across the restaurant, and it landed on Artie's lamp. He looked at it nervously before Rachel took it and peered inside, showing the gang a pile of stakes and holy water.

"She wants us to fight," said Rachel.

The gang looked up at Buffy as she fought Sandy Ryerson, other vampires leaving their exits to rush to the vessel's aid. Without any warning, Kurt leapt from his seat, and ran to the nearest exit, holding it open and shepherding people out of Breadstix.

"Come on!" Kurt called as people rushed out.

As Buffy did a twirling kick, Sandy grabbed her from behind in a crushing bear hug. As the others got up to help people out of Breadstix, Rachel grabbed a stake and decided to help Buffy, until she heard a whimper from the very corner of the room. Jacob Ben Israel with his mutated face and his sharp fangs was cornering Quinn Fabray, pinning her down against a wall. Rachel ran behind him and raised the stake, but she hesitated before pushing it into his back.

"Jacob!" she exclaimed.

Jacob swiveled around, and smiled sinisterly, Quinn Fabray still cowering behind him.

"Rachel Berry," he sneered, "Do you know for how many years I've wanted to get under that tartan skirt. But you never even gave me the time of day."

Rachel gulped and held her stake out, pointed right at his heart. "Don't make me do this, Jacob."

"You wouldn't."

With Buffy still in Sandy's grasp, her feet dangling just above the ground, Sandy bore his fangs and prepared to bite the back of Buffy's neck.

"Taste this, Master," he hissed, before Buffy threw her head back in a headbutt that immediately made Sandy drop her and spring backwards.

"How'd it taste?" she asked, breathless.

Rachel still held the stake up to Jacob's heart, too scared to just push it in.

"I can see you shaking," he said, making her shiver even more, "You're not gonna do it. You don't have the gu-"

From behind him, Quinn Fabray honed one small red ball of energy from her bare hands. She thew it at Jacob like it was a softball, knocking him over and pushing him into Rachel's stake. The ball of light disappeared and Jacob burst into dust, Rachel still holding the stake in a state of shock.

As her stake fell out of her hand, Buffy grabbed the cymbal from the jazz band's set up and threw it out of sight, lifting up the cymbal stand and pointing the sharp end at Sandy, javelin style.

"You forget, metal can't hurt me," chuckled Sandy.

"There's something you forgot, too. Sunrise," she said, throwing the cymbal stand at the window, where light poured in. Sandy hissed and blocked his face from the light with his sleeve. Only, it was just a lamp post.

"It's in about nine hours, moron," said Buffy, plunging a stake into his back while he was hunched over.

Sandy stumbled forward before he burst into dust particles. The slaying of the vessel was enough to catch the attention of every vampire in the restaurant, and within a fraction of a second, they all bolted out the door, in fear of the slayer. You better run, thought Buffy. Most people had fled already, though some remain, stunned and silent as Buffy hopped off the stage and met the gang down on the ground.

"I take it it's over," said Mr. Schuester.

"D-D-Did we win?" asked Tina.

"Well, we averted the apocalypse. You gotta give us points for that," said Buffy.

"One thing's for sure," said Rachel, clutching a stake to her chest, "Nothing's ever gonna be the same."

xxx

The very next day, the gang met Rachel's stare of shock and confusion with their own stunned silence.

Everything was exactly the same.

They sat outside on a picnic table as every other student milled around, laughing and talking like they always did, making nerds flinch with the Big Quench slushies in their hands. They even heard Quinn Fabray gossiping with her fellow Cheerios on the next table.

"I heard it was rival gangs or something, but the weird thing was, Buffy knew them. It was a total freak show," she said.

"I wish I'd been there," said Brittany.

Buffy had to laugh at Rachel's look of disbelief.

"What were you expecting?" she asked.

"I don't know. At least an assembly," pouted Rachel.

"People have a habit of rationalizing what they can and forgetting what they can't," said Tina.

"Hey, you didn't stutter," smiled Buffy.

Tina blushed and stared down at her tray of cafeteria food. "I-I-I-I-"

"Well, at least we know so next time we can be prepared," said Rachel.

"Next time? There's not going to be a next time," said Mercedes.

"Of course there is. I'm sure there will always be the forces of darkness to overcome in Lima," said Rachel.

"Yes, but there's also another Macy's sale this weekend. Prioritize, Rachel," said Kurt.

Buffy laughed and lifted her juice box. "Cheers to that," she said, knocking her drink with Kurt's mini carton of milk as Rachel watched slackjawed.

"The earth is doomed."

xxx

A week had passed. Buffy Summers survived a whole week in Lima, Ohio, and no one was more surprised than she was. Not only had she survived but was she… enjoying herself? No. Impossible. But then again, she found smiles creeping onto her face with alarming regularity, especially those morning conversations at her locker with Rachel that had quickly become tradition when the girls had discovered their lockers were side by side. The first conversation the girls had on a Thursday morning had sparked when Buffy asked about the men with Rachel in the photographs stuck to the inside of her locker door.

"My dads," smiled Rachel, proudly, "You see, I was born out of love. My fathers screened potential surrogates based on beauty and intelligence, mixed their sperm together and impregnated her with a turkey baster. To this day, we don't know which one is my real dad. I think that's really special."

Buffy nodded slowly, staring at the picture of Rachel with her fathers.

"What are your parents like?" asked Rachel, her brown eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh, well, my parents are divorced. My dad lives back in LA with his girlfriend, and me and my mom moved here. Obviously," said Buffy, shoving her books into her backpack.

"Oh. You know, there are plenty of children of divorce at McKinley. And the first thing you should know; it's not your fault."

"…Thanks."

After the first awkward conversation on a Thursday, their conversation on a Friday had been much less forced and much more enjoyable. Rachel talked about how she wanted to be a Broadway star, and Buffy listened. Not ideal for Buffy, but much better than having to talk about her parents. Then on Monday, they discussed what was possibly Buffy's favorite subject. Boys.

"Well, of course I need someone who can keep up with me vocally, but also someone who can dream as big as me, who won't hold me back, y'know? I can't put a relationship above my career."

Buffy nodded, idly dropping books into her backpack for next period. "Yeah, you don't want someone who smothers you or won't let you be independent."

"Exactly! I need someone who challenges me."

"Challenge is good. I don't really know what I look for. I don't think I have a type. They have to be sensitive, but not too sensitive, y'know? I dated this guy back in LA who cried every time he saw a sunset."

Rachel giggled, and paused absentmindedly as her attention was drawn somewhere else. Buffy turned her head to see Quinn Fabray resting against a set of lockers, kicking out one long, thin milky leg, talking and laughing enthusiastically, to Finn Hudson, who was standing at his open locker, his red and white McKinley Titans jersey draped over his broad shoulders.

Buffy whirled her head back to Rachel who was still staring dreamily at the couple.

"Somebody has a crush!" Buffy exclaimed.

Rachel's attention snapped back to Buffy as her mouth fell in a frown and she blushed, color coming brightly and quickly to her cheeks. "No, I don't!"

Buffy laughed at her friend's, embarrassed. "It's okay! Finn's a cutie. I get it."

Rachel smiled, the color in her cheeks dying down a little. "It doesn't matter, anyways. Finn would never notice me."

"Sure he would! He's in glee club!"

"But he doesn't want to be. Mr. Schuester probably had to blackmail him to get him to join."

"But what about Don't Stop Believin'?" asked Buffy.

Last Friday, Finn had put together a performance of Journey's Don't Stop Believin'. It was the first song New Directions had performed that actually sounded good.

"He's talented, he just doesn't see how much that's worth," said Rachel, "Quinn is blinding him. There must be a way to break them up."

Rachel stared longingly as Finn and Quinn walked away hand in hand.

"I'm not gonna say I condone breaking up a happy couple, but I do know that Finn would be way happier with you. Why don't you try out something that he's interested in? To give you two something more to talk about."

Rachel nodded absentmindedly, the cogs in her brain at work.

xxx

Santana leaned against the frame of the archway in her kitchen that led into her spacious living room, wrinkling her blue rose-patterned top and holding a steaming coffee mug full of butcher's blood warming her icy hands. Even if the scene wasn't her complete idea of perfection, she wished she could stay here. In her home with her parents gone and the curtains drawn and Brittany lying on her couch in her cute crocheted sweater watching a Sabrina the Teenage Witch re-run.

Brittany had skipped school to keep Santana company, but she had more selfish reasons for cutting class. The truth was, school had become unbearable without Santana. No one helped her in class or defended her to people who called her stupid. Quinn recruited a girl named Morgan Ru to be their third Cheerio in their unstoppable trio, in place of Santana. And Brittany didn't like her. She wasn't as pretty or as good at dancing as Santana, and she wasn't very nice. She'd called Brittany stupid. Santana never called Brittany stupid. The worst part is, Quinn didn't even defend Brittany. She didn't care.

"I wish Quinn was more like Sabrina," said Brittany, resting her head of cornsilk hair in her hands "She'd be nicer and she'd have a talking cat."

"What did Quinn do this time?" asked Santana, sipping from her mug.

"She replaced you," pouted Brittany.

Santana chuckled. "Good luck with that," she said, "One, no one can replace me. Two, our trio is called the Unholy Trinity for a reason, and not because collectively we've made out with every boy and girl at school. It's because we all have a bond that no one else has."

"We all like lady kisses?"

"No. We have the dark side. Vampires, witches, demons. Together, we know the capability of a world the other losers in this town wouldn't be able to comprehend."

"Even Buffy?"

"Buffy?"

"She fought that gang leader at Breadstix last Wednesday, remember? Except I'm starting to think maybe it wasn't a gang."

"Oh, yeah. Buffy," Santana sipped from her mug and thought.

Buffy was a strange one all right. Her mysteriousness bugged Santana. She liked to think she had people figured out. But not Buffy. Was this girl looking for trouble?

"Maybe her parents hunt vampires, too," said Brittany.

"Doubtful. I saw her mom at Pic n Save the day they moved here. Total marshmallow. Not vampire hunting material," said Santana, thinking of her own parents' cold appearances.

"When are your parents coming back?" asked Brittany, turning around, her puppy eyes peering at Santana from behind the couch.

"Tomorrow," said Santana, her stomach turning.

"What are you going to tell them?"

"Brittany, they can't find out. They wouldn't be able to handle it."

"They're going to find out sooner or later," Brittany said as she rolled over.

"They'll disown me."

"They'll get used to it. It's not like you're the only one. There's me, and there's Ellen. My mom loves Ellen."

"Brittany, what are you talking about?"

"We… we're talking about how you're Lebanese, right?" asked Brittany.

"Brit, no! We're talking about how I'm a vampire!"

"Oh, well. I still think they should know about that, too."

Santana stared into the depths of the thick pigs' blood in her mug. She knew Brittany was right. But there was no way her parents would ever understand. As the night fell and Brittany left to go back home, Santana sat in her bedroom wondering if she left now and never came back, saving herself and her parents from the ordeal of dealing with… this, would they even miss her? Would she miss them? She tried to imagine, vanishing in the night and never seeing her parents again. Never talking to them, never hugging them. Now that she thought about it, she and her parents didn't hug much, nor did they talk much. Her parents had a job to do – they didn't have a lot of time for Santana unless it was to train. Carmen and Marcelo Lopez had a reputation to uphold.

Santana's head snapped in the direction of her bedroom window as she heard her parents Escalade pulling up into the garage. She watched the car roll in from her bedroom window. Her heart would be pounding in her chest if it could beat anymore. She tip toed halfway down the staircase, and watched as her father open the door for her mother in the foyer. His chivalry always prevailed.

"Santana," said her mother, as her father took her brown Coach coat and hung it up on the coat holder beside the front door. She wasn't cold, she wasn't warm. Indifferent, as always. "I didn't expect you to be home," she said, as her dad strode down the hall into the kitchen in his Italian leather dress shoes, not even regarding Santana.

"Where else would I be?" she asked.

Her mother shrugged and followed Mr. Lopez into the kitchen. Santana sat down on a step of the staircase. She'd never realized how much her parents didn't notice her until she wanted them to. Didn't they see that she was different? Was it the dim lighting? She followed them into the kitchen where her father was pouring a scotch on the rocks and her mother took a seat at the island counter, slipping off her Gucci heels and rubbing her feet, looking exhausted.

"You're back early. How was the trip?" asked Santana.

If only for just a second, Santana could sense a hint of irritation in her mother's face.

"Fine," said her mother, looking down, her thick and graying shoulder-length hair falling in front of her eyes.

Santana turned to her father. She looked most like him. He was tall and dashing for his age. A Latin Don Draper.

"Don't you notice anything different about me?" she asked.

Mr. Lopez just stared into his scotch.

"Santana, we're very tired. Can you please leave us for tonight?" asked her mother, shaking back her hair and sitting up straight.

Santana felt like bursting. A short few hours ago she never wanted her parents to find out what happened to her, and now she wished they could just tell. Didn't they notice anything? Her pale skin? The red in her eyes that made her irises look maroon?

Santana moved evasively close to her mother, looking her straight in her chocolate brown eyes. Eyes that Santana used to have.

"Don't you see anything different?" she asked, clasping her mother's hands.

Carmen Lopez shook from the cold of her daughter's hands. "What is wrong with you? Have you been making Dirty Martini's at your father's bar, because your breath smells like salt and you're acting like a fool," she scowled.

Santana dropped her mother's hands like they were on fire and backed away in her Doc Martens. To her parents surprised, she started to laugh. Just a dry, whispered chuckle.

"You call yourselves the great vampire hunters. You can't even recognize one in front of you," said Santana.

Her parents faces fell, and they looked at her, her father's head turning like he only just realized she was here. Now they're paying attention, she thought.

"No, your theory was always right. Don't bother giving me a curfew. I'm not gonna stick to it anyways. And what's the worst that can happen out there at night? Vampires? I wouldn't be concerned," she laughed humorlessly, hysterical with anger.

"What are you talking about?" her father raised his voice, slamming his scotch glass down on the kitchen's marble counter.

"Pay attention, dad!" she yelled, "You seriously don't see it? How about this!"

And with the first time since the night she became a vampire, Santana bore her fangs and wrinkled her face to reveal the monster inside. Her parents gasped, her mother raising her hand to the necklace that rested on her chest. Santana made her face transform back just a few seconds after she'd morphed it into the monster's.

"Get out," her father uttered.

Santana's shoulder slumped, her face softened. Her heart hurt, if it were even possible.

"I know, you're shocked. It's hard to take in, but, it's not as bad as it seems. I'm still your daughter-"

"You're not my daughter!" he shouted, looking livid, "My daughter's dead and you're the monster who took her body."

Santana's hands begun to shake. "You don't understand-"

"Leave!" cried her mother, on the verge of tears.

"You… Santana's gone. You're not gonna make me drive a stake through her body," said her father.

"Dad-"

"Go before I change my mind!" he shouted.

Santana's face crumpled. Don't cry, Lopez, she thought to herself, They don't deserve it. Santana bit back tears and balled her fists.

"Fine. I'm gone," she said, backing away before they could see traitors slipping down her face.

She stamped down the hall, shaking with rage. She threw open the front door, and turned once more to look back into her hallway. She wanted to laugh and tell them how much they'd miss her and how little she'd think about them, but she settled for sticking her head back into the hall and yelling, "By the way, I'm a lesbian!"

xxx

Buffy hopped over a gravestone, the heels of her sneakers getting grass stains. C'mon, Hulk, she thought as a broad-shouldered, seven foot vamp chased after her, his long messy hair blowing past him in the night air and his chunky shoes making inch deep marks in the dirt below them. She weaved through headstones, planning to wear the big guy out before he got to bash into her with his hulking body.

She could tell that one blow from the giant beast would send her flying, so she relied on her spry flexibility to get the upper hand, tire him out and stake him from behind his thick back. Buffy looked back to see if the panting vamp was catching up. As her honey blond ponytail bounced behind her, she noted gladly that the vampire was a few meters back, gasping for breath, when she turned back and bang! She slammed right into another vamp, his heavyset body right in front of her like an impenetrable wall as he leered down at her from his wrinkled brow.

Today is just not my day, she thought as a third vamp closed in on her, all of them as big and brawny as the first. Landing a flying kick on one of their chests, she twirled behind him and ran. She knew she couldn't face them on her own, but the three were starting to close in on her. She stopped abruptly and forced as many kicks and punches to their chests as she could, throwing all of her strength into it, but it didn't seem possible to defeat them all. They grabbed hold onto her willowy arms and legs. Buffy tried to kick free, but they had her held tight, their thick porcelain fangs so close to her face she could see their plaque build-up, when one let go of her, sending her torso falling to ground.

With her feet held up in the air by one of the vamps, Buffy hung upside down to see Santana Lopez fighting one of the vampires. She wasn't winning, but she was holding them off enough for Buffy to kick the face of the one holding her legs captive. With a jump and a twirl, she karate kicked a vamp and punched it multiple times in the abs. She slid the stake out of her sleeve out and into the meaty vamp's heart, dusting it. Whipping her head around, Buffy watched Santana punch at the two remaining mega-vamps until they ran off.

"Damn! I didn't know they came that big! Can vampires take steroids?" asked Santana, her hands clutching the sides of her torso, Buffy spying a dribble of blood sliding down out of the sleeve of her top.

"You're bleeding," said Buffy, moving closer to check out the wound, but Santana flinched away. "I won't bite. Unlike a lot of things out here."

Santana put her hand up her short sleeve and brought it back out, staring at the blood stained on her fingertips, unfazed.

"I can bandage you. At my house?" asked Buffy, "Santana?"

Santana blinked and wiped the blood on her pants. "Yeah. Okay."

Back at Buffy's house, Buffy twisted her key into the front door, locking it, and warily looked left and right through the diamond shaped window to make sure no vamps were lurking around in wait. Not that they could get in.

"Where's your first aid kit?" asked Santana, her eyes shifting around her in the hall.

She had stared nervously at the frame of Buffy's front door until she'd asked her to come in, and now she was uneasily glancing at every picture on Buffy's walls of her and her mother on vacation or with family at the holidays, leaning towards the kitchen and avoiding the reflection of the windows. That's girl's a mystery, thought Buffy.

"In the kitchen," said Buffy, leading Santana in to her mother's small kitchen and sitting her down at the island counter.

She rifled through the bottom cabinet until she found the small white box with the red cross in the middle under some frying pans.

"Show me where you got hurt" asked Buffy, taking a stool and setting out the tape, bandages and antiseptic she needed to dress Santana's wound.

To her surprise, Santana whipped off her shirt, standing in her kitchen in just her teal lace bra and Guess jeans. Buffy blushed and tried not to linger long on Santana's toned body, turning her attention to the bloody gash on her arm.

"I take it you're not squeamish?" Santana teased, noticing Buffy fixed stare on her wound.

"I've seen worse," Buffy said quietly, spraying Santana's arm and covering it with a bandage.

Santana watched Buffy's nimble fingers at work as she taped the cotton to her arm.

"So, why are you fighting vampires in the middle of the night?" asked Santana, making Buffy fumble slightly under her unflinching stare.

"I could ask you the same."

"Well, I don't do it regularly. You just looked like you needed help."

"I don't normally need help," Buffy mumbled.

"It's okay to need help every once in a while," said Santana, her voice surprisingly soft, making Buffy shiver.

"All done," she said, quickly shoving things back into their first aid box and putting it back into its cabinet.

She turned around to find Santana pulling her shirt back down over her flat stomach.

"I should go," said Santana, staring gravely at the ground.

"No," said Buffy, too quickly, "You should stay. I mean, if you want to. You're hurt."

Santana's mouth crept up in a sly half smile. "Someone likes playing nurse."

"Well, I-I-" Buffy started stuttering aimlessly until the two were interrupted.

The kitchen light flipped on by Buffy's mom who was leaning in the doorway, her hand on her hip looking exhausted and irritated.

"Buffy?" said Joyce, unimpressed.

"Mom! This is my... friend! Santana!" she said, raising her hands to gesture to Santana, who looked surprisingly and unusually pale under the kitchen light.

"Isn't it a little late for visitors?" asked Joyce.

"Yeah! We were just studying. But, uh, it's late. Can Santana crash here for the night?"

Buffy's mother pursed her lips, and nodded tightly. "Okay, but go to bed now, and be up for school tomorrow morning."

"Totally," Buffy smiled awkwardly as her mother sauntered back upstairs to her room.

"You didn't have to do that," said Santana.

"Do you have anywhere else to stay tonight?" asked Buffy.

Santana only shook her head solemnly.


	5. The Substitute

Santana looked around the room, amused by the normality of it all. It was a regular teenage girl's bedroom. Clothes overflowing out of her messy wardrobe, a diary resting on her desk and a pink stuffed pig tossed on her duvet. It reminded her of Brittany's room. Not at all the bedroom of someone who spent their nights fighting demons in secret.

"I'll take the floor," said Buffy.

"No-"

"You're wounded. You take the bed-"

"It's big enough for both of us."

Buffy blushed, and nodded her head. "Okay," she said.

Before she knew it, Santana was stripping down to her bra and underpants, tossing her clothes to the corner of the room. Buffy's eyes darted around the room, searching for anywhere to look but Santana's slender curves.

"You don't seem shy," noted Buffy.

"If you got it, flaunt it," said Santana, not hesitating to crawl into Buffy's bed sheets.

Buffy stared at her sushi patterned pajamas hanging up on the handle of her closet door, debating where to dress. If she left to get dressed in the bathroom, Santana would think she's a prude. If she got dressed in front of her... well, she'd _see_ her.

Santana smirked, and raised the bed cover above her eyes, "I won't look," she said teasingly.

Buffy rolled her eyes, a grin creeping on to her face. She stripped down and pulled the fuzzy sushi pyjamas over her, not really caring if Santana looked or not. She crawled in to the other side of bed, fluffing her pillow as Santana emerged out of the covers.

"You never told me why you were fighting vampires," Santana said in a hushed tone.

Buffy pursed her lips tight, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. "I'm the slayer," she said, and she didn't feel bad for telling her. She trusted Santana, for whatever reason.

"The slayer? As in, the chosen one in every generation? She who will dust the vamps and gank the demons and all that jazz?" she asked, propping her head up on her hand.

"That's the one."

Santana plopped her head down on the pillow, sighing as she stared up at Buffy's bare ceiling.

"Wow," she sighed, "The slayer. I always wanted to be a slayer. I thought it would make my parents proud."

"Your parents?"

"A few centuries back, one of my ancestors was a slayer, back in Guadalajara, and every generation of my family since has spent their lives hunting vampires."

"Vampire hunters. That's crazy. Mr. Schuester never told me about that."

"Mr. Schuester?" asked Santana, wrinkling her nose.

"He's my watcher."

"Mr. Schuester, a watcher? No way."

"Where is your family now?" asked Buffy.

Santana frowned and furrowed her brow. "They're dead."

Buffy tensed in her bed, hesitating to breathe as she felt the stillness fill the room.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "Was it vampires?"

Santana nodded, and stayed quiet. Buffy thought every once in a while that she'd finally fallen asleep, but her maroonish eyes stayed open and fixed on the ceiling above her. Buffy barely slept that night. She'd spent most of her time pretending she was asleep than actually sleeping. She wanted to talk to Santana more, but she couldn't get any words to leave her mouth.

As the morning sun rose and draped its glow over the room, Buffy realized at some point she'd drifted into a deep sleep. She sat up quickly in her bed to see that Santana was gone with the night and the window was ajar, the warm breeze blowing in. Buffy's shoulders slumped, disappointed. She'd wanted to wake up in the morning and check on Santana's wound, make her breakfast and walk with her to school. But Buffy could see Santana's plans were different.

xxx

"The Th-Three," said Tina, turning her laptop around on the lap of her red plaid jeans in the choir room for the others to see.

"That's them," said Buffy, peering at the three bulky vamps on Tina's computer screen, "Where do you find these things?"

"Wikipedia, m-mostly," said Tina.

"The Three are warrior vampires," said Mr. Schuester, holding up a thin encyclopaedia of famous demons, "Led by the Master."

"Right. Well, I dusted one, but I can't take them all out on my own," said Buffy.

"I d-don't think you'll have to w-worry about that," said Tina, "I-It says h-here that the Three have a p-pact to sacrifice themselves if they f-f-fail a mission."

"Well, that's a load off my hands," sighed Buffy, her mind still on last night. She couldn't stop thinking about Santana. She was a mystery. A dark soul. She was _so cool_.

"Are you sure we don't have to worry about them?" asked Rachel, her arms folded over her argyle sweater, "I think we should always be on guard."

Buffy slumped her shoulders and sighed. Rachel was always forcing them to be on guard. She took this business more seriously than Buffy did, and Buffy was the freakin' chosen one. Buffy leaned against the choir room piano and looked to Mr. Schue, who had a faraway expression on his face.

"What's up, Chuck?" asked Buffy, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

"Just thinking about glee club," said Mr. Schuester.

"Way to prioritize," smirked Buffy, falling into a maroon plastic chair.

Mr. Schuester whipped out his red sharpie and wrote 'Disco' on the marker board as Finn walked in and took a seat at the front beside Rachel.

"Hello, Finn," greeted Rachel, eagerly leaning into him.

Buffy smiled knowingly. Rachel really liked Finn, but perhaps she was coming on a little too strong.

"Disco," announced Mr. Schue, met by many groans, "C'mon, guys, it's a crowd pleaser!"

"Maybe when you were in high school, back in the 70s," said Buffy.

"I went to high school in the 90s!" said Mr. Schue, defensively pointing his sharpie in Buffy's direction, "When the disco revival was in its hey-day!"

"She's right, Mr. Schue. Pop culture is constantly evolving and if we do disco at the pep assembly we'll be even lower on the high school food chain than we already are," said Rachel.

"Guys! We're doing disco! That's the end of it!"

xxx

Like most of Buffy's daily sessions with Ms. Pillsbury, the hour was filled with awkward silences and boring chit chat.

"So, Mr. Schuester tells me the glee club is doing a performance at the pep assembly in a few days," said Ms. Pillsbury, clasping her pale bony hands together, just above the polished wood of her desk.

"Uh-huh," said Buffy, her hands squeezing the arms of the uncomfortable chair opposite Ms. Pillsbury's desk.

"And how have you been adapting in glee club?"

"Fine."

Ms. Pillsbury smiled tensely and nodded as Buffy eyed the mustard colored bumblebee clock on the office wall.

"Look, can I go now?" said Buffy, as Ms. Pillsbury frowned in surprise, "It's just, I mean, we don't really talk about anything important, and I have homework to catch up on-"

"I know you don't enjoy this, Buffy, but everyone needs some way of expressing their feelings, especially you, with all the changes in your life. I thought maybe glee club could be some form of creative expression to let go of your feelings-"

"But my feelings aren't even a problem!"

"Buffy, you've been skipping school and you attacked a student-"

"When will people finally forget about that?"

"We only have your best interests at heart, Buffy," said Ms. Pillsbury, leaning in and smiling warmly, her circular doe eyes wide with concern.

Buffy sighed and sat back in the chair. I may as well humor her, thought Buffy, as Ms. Pillsbury reached under her desk and pulled out a notebook with a red and white plaid fabric cover.

"I saw this at Barnes and Nobles and I picked it up for you," she said.

Buffy leaned forward and looked at the journal, surprised that a teacher would make a purchase on behalf of her.

"Thanks," said Buffy.

"I know you like glee club, but I think something more personal like writing a diary would be more up your alley."

"A diary?" asked Buffy, taking the notebook.

"For your homework, I want you to write in this book every day. A little, a lot. It doesn't matter. I won't read it, but you have to promise you'll write every day."

"Okay," said Buffy, searching her mind for where to even begin.

With her new, blank diary under her arm, Buffy left Ms. Pillsbury's office into the hallways and meandered around the students as she tried to get to her locker.

"Buffy!"

Buffy shook a little as Rachel emerged at her side. The stealthiest creature of the night couldn't sneak up on Buffy, but Rachel Berry made her jump out of her skin.

"What's up?" asked Buffy.

"I haven't told the other glee club members yet, but I think as club captain I should take a creative, preemptive strike."

"When did you become club captain?"

"I know more than anyone that the school will not react positively to our rendition of Le Freak, so I went to the trouble of preparing a new routine that we'll perform at the pep assembly without Mr. Schuester's knowledge."

"You want to lie to Mr. Schuester?"

"Lie is such a strong word, Buffy. I'm taking a stand and doing what's best for the team."

"And what's best for the team?"

"Giving the school what they want."

"And what do they want?"

"Sex."

xxx

Dirt and pebbles crunched under Santana's heels. She inspected the stony walls of the crypt from where she could in the shadowy corners, out of reach of the sunlight that spilled in through the dusty windows. Do people actually live here? she wondered. She'd spent one night around the four walls of this crypt and she couldn't imagine leaving her lush home for a permanent stay here. Maybe comfort and style wasn't a common vampire priority, but it was important to her nonetheless.

It was only occurring to her now that all of her worldly belongings were in her parents' house and there was no way she could go back there. Not after what her dad said. _My daughter is dead and you're the monster who took her body_. Santana was dead to them, in an all too literal way. Now Santana had to find somewhere else to go.

The first person she'd thought of, as usual, was Brittany. But hadn't she put the Pierce family through too much already? She'd bitten Brittany and made her mother go through the trouble of helping her get her soul back. Had she even thanked her for that? How would she even try?

She knew Buffy Summers would be ready and willing to help, but Santana knew that would never work. Despite her sacred birth rite, Buffy had about the closest thing to a normal life you could have these days. School, friends, mom. It all mattered. She had a routine and a lifestyle that Santana could never live with messing up. Besides, Buffy didn't know the truth; not really. She didn't know what Santana was. How would she ever deal with that information?

Anything Santana did - everyone she turned to - she'd be messing with the balance of someone's life. It was better off if she just took care of herself and stayed out of everyone's way. Santana whipped around as she heard - or rather, smelled - someone approaching, and sure enough Brittany's mother Phoebe walked through the crypt's entrance in her flats.

"Santana? What are you doing here?"

Santana opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of how to answer.

"I had nowhere else to go," she finally said.

Phoebe dropped her hip and her head to the side, peering at her with big, sympathetic blue eyes. The same as Brittany's, Santana noted.

"Honey, what happened?" asked Phoebe, "Brittany said you weren't at home, and this is where she found you last time."

Santana rested her back against the wall of the crypt and rocked back and forth on her heels, biting her lips.

"My parents kicked me out," she said quietly, biting back tears.

It took her all she had not to burst out blubbering tears a toddler. She tried to tell herself she didn't care - stay mature and independent like the adult she was - but the depressing truth was, her parents didn't love her anymore and she didn't have anyone who did. Nowhere to go and nowhere to turn to and now she couldn't move a muscle without tears slipping down her face.

"Oh, honey," said Mrs. Pierce, walking up to Santana and clutching her hand to her heart, "Why would they do that?"

Santana couldn't hold it in any longer, and the water works started, tears dribbling down her cheeks at a surprising rate. She didn't care about looking like a big whiny baby anymore.

"Because I'm a vampire. And I'm gay. I'm a big gay vampire and my parents hate me," she sobbed, falling into Mrs. Pierce's arms, the comfortable cashmere of her sleeves rubbing off Santana's shoulders.

Santana's tears made big splotchy stains on Mrs. Pierce's shoulder, probably ruining her sweater. She'll have to get it dry cleaned, thought Santana. Probably something that would make Santana's mother irritable, but Phoebe didn't seem to care. She smelled like grass and hazelnut coffee - unlike Santana's mom, who smelled like wood shavings and Chanel No. 5.

When Santana was younger, she used to wish that Brittany's mom would adopt her and she could be Brittany's sister and live with her family and be happy forever. As she got older, that wish seemed stupid and unrealistic, but it never really went away.

xxx

Buffy ran on the spot, clenching and un-clenching her fists and doing breathing exercises that Rachel taught her, to calm her nerves. Buffy wasn't much of a singer. Her voice was light and feathery. Pretty, but not loud and powerful and perfect like Rachel Berry's Broadway voice. She had the voice and the persona of a leading lady, but Buffy was just... Buffy. She was a literal killer in the graveyard, but on stage? She felt mousier than Tina. At least Tina could belt.

"Ready?" asked Rachel, skipping up to Buffy backstage, her chestnut pigtails bouncing off her shoulders, clad in knee pads and a flowery skirt. Apparently that was Rachel's version of sex appeal. Buffy had gone with the timeless skinny jeans and t-shirt. She wasn't sure how much 'sexy' she could pull off given the school dress code.

"I'm kind of nervous," said Buffy, pulling on the sleeves of her t-shirt.

Rachel smiled and put her hand to her chest, adorably condescending.

"I know it must be scary. Your first time on stage. But just stay behind me and avoid the harsh glare of the spotlight. With me leading the way, nothing can go wrong. Break a leg!" she smirked, and skipped off in her place behind the closed curtain.

Is that her idea of a pep talk? wondered Buffy, but she sighed and didn't stay idle, taking her place between Kurt and Tina. Her heart started to race as she heard Mr. Schuester introducing New Directions. Fighting a crowd of vamps was one thing, but dancing in front of a crowd of surly, judgmental teenagers was another. Before she knew it, the background music started on the tape that Rachel had sneaked into the speakers, switching Mr. Schuester's disco karaoke music for something more current. Then again, like Rachel's idea of sex appeal, Rachel's idea of current was a little warped. The backing track to Salt and Pepa's Push It started playing and before Buffy had time to be nervous, she focused all of her concentration on the dance moves. She didn't know why it surprised her so much that she was a good dancer. She was spry and strong and good with choreography - whether it be fighting or dancing.

She found herself more comfortable out on stage in the gymnasium. She didn't even notice all of the eyes staring at her as she danced to the beat of Rachel's rapping. If she did, she would've noticed Mr. Schue's slack jawed stare and Quinn Fabray's piercing eyes, livid that Rachel Berry was grinding on stage with her quarterback boyfriend for all the school to see. But Buffy didn't have time to linger on the crowd long because as soon as they finished their 'sexy' routine, the school burst out in applause.

xxx

"What were you thinking?"

Buffy and Rachel opened their mouths in defense, but couldn't get the words out. It'd be so much easier to defend themselves if Mr. Schuester was just angry, but here he was, disappointed in them, and they didn't know how to deal with that. At least Buffy had the experience. She'd spent a lot of time fighting the guilt that builds up when your parents and your teachers are constantly disappointed, but it was all new to Rachel. She was Miss High Maintenance, forever exceeding expectations with her stellar talent and intelligence. To have anyone upset with her was completely foreign.

"But, the crowd loved it," said Rachel.

"The crowd would have loved disco! Now after your sex riot no parent in their right mind would let their kid join glee club," he replied.

"I think you're overreacting. Everything worked out fine!" said Buffy, the two girls pleading with him in the school hallways, still in their 'sexy' red and denim outfits.

Mr. Schuester sighed and shook his head of curls. "I understand why you did what you did. I just don't like the way you did it. I don't want to have to reprimand you, Rachel, but I'm giving the Don't Stop Believin' solo to Quinn Fabray."

"Quinn Fabray?" asked Buffy, confused.

"Quinn, Brittany and Morgan Ru auditioned for glee club, and I have to say, they were good," said Mr. Schuester, shrugging his shoulders.

"But Mr. Schue, Quinn Fabray can't join glee club! It'll ruin everything for me!" cried Rachel.

"Not everything is about you, Rachel," said Mr. Schuester, walking away with a handful of approved music sheet.

Buffy turned to her crestfallen friend, her pigtails drooping unhappily.

"Why would Quinn Fabray want to join glee club? Its social suicide," said Rachel, talking softly to the linoleum floor below her.

"Finn," replied Buffy.

"What?" Rachel asked, looking side to side as students milled around between classes.

"She saw you dancing with Finn and she got jealous so she's moving into your territory. I saw it all the time back in L.A."

"Popular girls?"

"My friends," frowned Buffy.

"I can't believe she's getting the solo," pouted Rachel.

Buffy reached her arm around her friend's shoulders. "She's probably really bad."

Rachel looked sideways at Buffy and smiled crookedly. "You're sweet."

xxx

_Ummm..._

_Since no-one is going to be reading this journal, I think it's okay for me to talk about... baking. It's just, I know it's my destiny to be a baker, and I've pretty much accepted that, but don't people understand that there's more to my life than baking? I mean, baking can be fun. Therapeutic, even. But that doesn't mean that all I want to do is bake. Sometimes I wish I could meet another baker who knows how it feels, but I'm the only one, and it's depressing. The only one who could even come close to understanding is S. She's so interesting and mysterious. I hope I see her again soon._

With her secrets somewhere other than trapped in her mind, Buffy felt a little lighter that night as she patrolled, but when she staked a vamp, someone emerged out of the dust.

"Santana!" Buffy gasped.

"Hey," she said, carrying a purse around her slender shoulder, looking a little disheveled.

"Are you hunting?" asked Buffy.

"No. I'm not into that. I came here to tell you... I was on my way to... I bumped into this vamp. Big. Freaky razor where a right hand should be. Made me hope he's a lefty."

"Mr. Schue said those three from last night were sent by the Master. Do you think this razor hand guy is another minion?"

"It's possible. Look, I got to go, I just came here to warn you. He looks pretty dangerous," said Santana, backing away in her boots.

"Wait! Why did you leave this morning?"

Santana furrowed her brow. "Buffy, you don't have to take care of me. You don't know me." With that, Santana strode away.

Maybe she'd been too cold, but it was only for Buffy's sake. Santana felt she had dragged enough people down into her dark drama. She's sure the slayer has more to worry about then some strange girl who both belonged to two worlds and didn't belong to either.

Far from the graveyard, Santana turned into her cul de sac in Lima Heights adjacent, and stepped up to her home. Instead of the welcome harbor it had been since she moved there as a child, her parents' house looked tall and daunting, the lights in the windows turned out and the neighborhood at night eerily quiet.

Santana's legs shook, eager to just turn back to the Pierces' house. Phoebe had offered to drive to Santana's house and pick up her things, but Santana decided this was something she would have to do alone. What would her parents do, anyways? Kill her? Santana pondered on this as she pushed the front door ajar, staring into the depths of the grand foyer, dark and silent and... empty? Confused, Santana flipped on the light switch, illuminating the front hall and the wide staircase. Where was the tall wood coat holder with her father's Armani jacket? Where was the long, narrow antique rug her mother inherited from her Aunt Isabella? Santana walked into the kitchen and turned on the light, only for the cold, white interior to stare back at her dully; no espresso machine, no black magnets on the refrigerator. The television and the velvet throw pillows were taken from the living room, and when she searched her parents' bedroom, there was not an argyle sock or a miniature bottle of holy water in sight, although she could smell her mother's perfume faint on the Egyptian cotton pillow cases. The only room left intact was her own.

Santana paced around it, her fingertips trailing against a soft scarf hanging from her bedroom door. Her parents' must have avoided her bedroom entirely when they moved out. Had they even thought about her? Was it too painful or did they just not care at all?

xxx

_I feel so stupid._

_Of course S doesn't want my help. What do I have to offer? I'm just a baker. My destiny was handed to me. But S was born into the rich history of people who bake for pleasure. How many burnt batches has she saved me from so far?_

Buffy set down her ballpoint pen and slid her diary into her backpack.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

Rachel was sitting beside Buffy at a rectangular marble counter-top of the biology lab, picking at her perfect fingernails and looking tense. Buffy could imagine she was the kind of girl who got stress headaches when she was an infant.

"Buffy, I have to confess something to you, and you have to swear on our epic friendship that you won't tell a soul," said Rachel, hushed under the murmur of the untended students.

"Sure," said Buffy, folding her arms, all ears.

"Last night, when the faculty cleared out after hours, I trained Finn vocally, until we decided to take a break and drink virgin Cosmos I'd prepared earlier for such an occasion."

"Yeah?"

"And he kissed me, Buffy! Finn Hudson kissed me!"

"Well, that's great! Isn't it?"

Rachel's forehead creased in anxiety. "No. He freaked out and left. He told me to never mention to anyone. To just forget about it."

Buffy frowned as Rachel rubbed the mint plaid sweater sleeves around her thin arms. "Rachel, I'm sorry."

Rachel shook her head. "Don't be. This kind of pain and heartbreak will inevitably lead to me only becoming more passionate and heartfelt in my performances."

"Right. But not everything's about bettering your talent, y'know? It's okay to be all sad and self-pitying sometimes, and leaving it at that."

"Well, what would be the use in that?" asked Rachel, fiddling with her 2B pencil as the substitute walked in.

Several mouths dropped open at the sight of the sub's long, slender legs under the thin spandex of her flesh toned pantyhose. She wore one of the shortest, and tightest, skirt suits Buffy had ever seen on a teacher, and it complimented her chic dark brown bob.

"Good morning, class, my name is Ms. French," she said, sounding just slightly foreign, adding to the gorgeous and exotic complex, "Dr. Gregory is absent this week, so I will be filling in for him and helping you drill for Winter finals."

"That's not all I'd like you to drill," murmured Azimio Adams, bumping fists with his equally meat headed cohort, Dave Karofsky.

"It's my understanding that you were learning about insects, and I thought for today's lesson we could talk about the majestic praying mantis," said Ms. French, slipping a slide into the projector and dimming the lights to show the class her plentiful photos of the praying mantis, "There are over eighteen hundred species of praying mantis throughout the world. They are carnivores - eating mainly insects and other small creatures."

While Rachel usually paid avid attention in class, her eyes - as well as Quinn's - were stuck on Finn who sat up front, subtly drooling and staring at Ms. French's legs with glassy eyes.

"The praying mantis can turn its head one hundred and eighty degrees - a complete half circle," continued Ms. French, despite the obvious distraction of both girls and boys in the classroom, "The praying mantis is a majestic and honorable creature. Glorious and beautiful-"

"I think its capital-U ugly," said Brittany, playing with a piece of string as she stared at the praying mantis slides.

"It is not ugly!" snapped Ms. French, glaring at Brittany, "They are intelligent, adaptable creatures with elegant bodies that blend in with their leafy habitat."

Brittany pouted with her string wrapped around her finger.

"In fact," continued Ms. French, "I'd like to make model egg sacs for the science fair next weekend, but they take a lot of work, so I'll need a student helping me every night, one on one."

With that, many of the male hands in the classroom shot up. Rachel could see from where she was sitting that Finn's hand was itching to be raised, but it stayed down under the unflinching stare of Quinn Fabray.

"Well, I'm glad to see so many volunteers," smiled Ms. French, with dazzling white teeth, "Hm, how about for tonight, I work with...You!"

Ms. French pointed straight at Azimio Adams, who high-fived a teammate.

"And tomorrow I can work with ..." she put her finger to her chin as she scanned the room, "You!"

She pointed one French tipped finger at Finn Hudson, who blushed and smiled crookedly to Quinn's annoyance. Buffy spent her fair share of time fighting the dark side, but she did not want to be on the dark side of Quinn Fabray's temper.

xxx

Quinn slammed her red and white McKinley sports duffel bag against the lockers as she stepped over a bench to turn the combination on her lock.

"Morgan, you do not want to push me today. Be at glee club rehearsals at free period or you're off the squad," said Quinn, her fingers fumbling with the lock as her frustration increased.

"She's just pissed because of Finn," Morgan grumbled to Brittany, wringing her pom-poms in her hands.

Dropping her lock, Quinn whipped her sandy ponytail around to glare at her fellow Cheerio.

"Excuse me?"

Morgan looked over her shoulder and frowned with her pouty lips. "It's no secret that Finn is ready to stray. I mean, look at him drooling over that Biology sub. And grinding with Rachel Berry? Please, how desperate can you get? You're going to have to put out sooner or later."

Brittany stuck her head in her locker and waited for the yelling to begin. Quinn and Santana would always argue in the locker rooms over stupid things like boyfriends and popularity. Brittany couldn't understand why Santana would fight with Quinn so much about Noah Puckerman when Santana had always said that Puck was 'just a stupid boy'. Santana always explained it was because she had 'territorial issues'.

"You know what, Morgan?" said Quinn, a bitter half-smile on her face as she dropped a hand on one hip, "The only reason I'm even friends with you is because Santana Lopez moved out of town and I needed to fill my trio with a minority to make me seem more diverse. Truth is, you bug me beyond repair. Your whiny voice and your tendency to wear blue and black together? Please. Not just that, but your incessant half-baked opinions on me and my life. I know I'm some sort of idol around these parts, but maybe take a moment to mop the drool off your mouth and not obsess over me much, kay? 'Cause Lord knows you're just an irrelevant dot under my radar, and I could squash you like the creepy little insect you are. Got it?"

Morgan closed her slack jawed mouth and turned back to her locker, blushing red.

"That's what I thought," muttered Quinn, finally finding the co-ordination to enter her combo and open her locker, only for a cold, dead, headless body to fall out on top of the girl.

The girls' locker room erupted in screams as the headless body of Dr. Gregory fell to the damp tiled floor.

xxx

"You guys, I have something to tell you," said Mr. Schuester, mouth turned in a frown and his hands around the waist of his sweater vest.

As usual, the Scoobies were having lunch in the auditorium, Kurt and Rachel washing their pasta salad down with lemon water, Tina and Artie sharing a hot pocket, Mercedes tucking into some cafeteria tots and Buffy eating a plastic container of sushi - it wasn't as good as it was back in L.A.

"What is it?" asked Buffy.

"Dr. Gregory was found dead in the girls' locker room," said Mr. Schuester, "I just found out."

"Dr. Gregory d-d-died?" gasped Tina.

"Oh my God, was it... vampires?" asked Rachel in a hushed tone.

Mr. Schuester scratched his chin. "I don't think so. He was... decapitated."

"Decapitated? As in, his cap was... detated?" asked Artie, horrified.

Mr. Schuester nodded, looking ill. "They haven't found the head yet."

Putting down her sushi, Buffy brushed off her pants with her 'let's-get-down-to-business' face.

"Do you think this has something to do with the Master?" she asked.

"I don't see why the Master would want to kill a Biology teacher, but I won't rule it out as a possibility," said Mr. Schuester, "Right now though, we should focus on other things with this MO."

"With the MO to chop people's heads off? I hate to say it, but that doesn't actually narrow it down," said Buffy.

"Well, we'll try looking for signs. We need to figure this out-" said Mr. Schue before he was interrupted by the sound of someone daintily clearing their throat.

All of the scoobies turned to see Quinn Fabray strutting down the auditorium in her Cheerios uniform, flanked by her cheerleading cohorts and her dim-witted boyfriend. Rachel blushed at the sight of Finn Hudson towering over the other girls.

"May I... help you?" asked Mr. Schuester, eyes lingering on the girls.

Quinn rolled her eyes at Mr. Schue's confusion. "We're here for glee club rehearsals."

xxx

Buffy knew Quinn Fabray was up to something. Infiltrating glee club to kill it from the inside, maybe? So she could keep her boyfriend without having to attend anymore rehearsals. Buffy just couldn't understand why Quinn would go to that much trouble. She didn't even seem to like Finn. Was her reputation that sacred that she would date someone she didn't even like for so long just to maintain her popularity? Buffy couldn't even fathom that there was once a time when boys and popularity were the most important things in her life.

Especially now, as she stood in a foggy graveyard in the middle of a school night, fighting off a clawed vampire. Thankfully, Santana had warned her about the vamp, and the razor where his right hand should be. Like Santana, Buffy wished he was a lefty so he wouldn't be so precise with that razor claw, snipping the sleeve of her Burberry jacket. Thankfully, the fashion conscious slayer was pissed and ready to go, running the vamp almost out of the cemetery.

"Yeah, you better run," she panted as she sprinted after the freak show vampire, when all of a sudden, it stopped, just short of the cemetery gates, looking out past the bars of the gate at a woman innocently carrying her groceries down the street.

Not the right time for a hunt, buddy, she thought, but as the woman halted and looked their way, the vampire whimpered, running off in another direction, straight past Buffy.

"What the-?" Buffy stopped short, squinting out at the woman.

She recognized her; the long legs and the bob haircut... Oh my God, thought Buffy, Ms. French!


	6. The SheMantis

**Chapter 6**

**The She-Mantis**

"So, have you been using your diary?" asked Ms. Pillsbury.

Buffy's fingers twitched. Ever since last night, she'd been itching to tell Mr. Schuester all about the crazy incident. How Ms. French, some lowly substitute biology teacher, had a clawed vampire scared silly. There was some serious juju surrounding this woman, and she had to figure it out.

But for the time being, Buffy tried to concentrate on appearing sane to Ms. Pillsbury.

"Mm hm. Every day."

"Look, Buffy, I brought you here, mainly because of what happened to Dr. Gregory last night."

"What about it?"

"Well, we all know that the death of someone we know, no matter how little they meant to us, can trigger some unpleasant feelings and memories," said Ms. Pillsbury, her ginger hair curling upwards in a cute quiff, "I just want to make sure that every student here feels safe."

"Well, I feel fine. I mean, that's terrible, that there's some head-stealing murderer on the loose, but, what would they want with me? Not that I'm not being careful. I am. I'm just not freaking out about it. I'm concentrating on my schoolwork, y'know?"

"Well, that's great, Buffy! I'm glad to see you're so together," said Ms. Pillsbury, straightening her wall pamphlets just so, "I can already see your demeanour around the school has improved."

"Mm, totally," said Buffy, "Do you think I could go early? I have a Biology test."

"Uh, well, yes, OK, that's sounds fine. But stop by any time if you ever need to talk," said Ms. Pillsbury, but Buffy was already out the door.

Striding down the halls on the way to the biology lab, Buffy thought about all the possibilities of how Ms. French could possibly have scared away that vamp. Buffy stopped at the door of the biology lab and peered in the rectangular window at Ms. French as she laid out tests for the class, the students' heads down in concentration to impress the sub. She looked so normal. Perhaps Buffy had missed something last night. But she couldn't help getting a bad feeling about the attractive teacher.

What is up with you? thought Buffy as she peered at the back of Ms. French's head, when all of a sudden, she turned. No, she didn't turn. Buffy noted that her feet stayed planted squarely on the ground and her head turned all the way around to stare at Buffy through the window.

Buffy jumped back, her heart pounding and slammed her back against the wall. Okay, something is definitely up, thought Buffy.

xxx

"I'm telling you, it went all the way around," said Buffy.

"All the way around? Like three hundred and sixty degrees?" asked Rachel, her arms folded over her baby pink pom-pom tie sweater.

"Uh, no, more like one eight. But that's still too far, right?"

Rachel and Tina nodded, Tina searching the creepy information on her laptop as she sat on the edge of auditorium stage in her skirt.

"All I can f-find is Y-YouTube videos of p-people turning their heads around, a-and exorcisms," said Tina.

"Do you think Ms. French is possessed?" gasped Rachel.

"Maybe," said Buffy, thinking hard, "Rachel, was Azimio in class today?"

"As a matter of fact, no," frowned Rachel.

"He was helping Ms. French last night, and he never came back," Buffy muttered gravely.

"And Finn is helping her tonight!" gasped Rachel, "Buffy, we have to save him!"

"Hold on! We have to know what we're dealing with before we go."

"What if it's too late, Buffy? We have to warn him!" said Rachel, close to hysterics.

"And tell him what? No, we have to figure out what's going on," said Buffy.

"G-guys," squeaked Tina.

"What?"

"I found another c-creature who can turn their head one eighty d-degrees."

"What is it?"

"A p-praying mantis."

As Rachel and Buffy stared at Tina, the cogs in their mind turning, they didn't have time to do anything about it when Quinn Fabray entered the auditorium followed by the rest of glee club.

"Where's Mr. Schuester?" asked Quinn, sauntering up to the stage in her slimming Cheerios uniform.

Buffy shrugged. "Let's wait for him," she replied.

"No, thanks. If you guys are actually serious about making it to Regionals, we can't waste any time," said Quinn, "Dakota!"

Buffy ground her teeth together as a short, washed out looking man entered the auditorium and strutted down to the stage. She looked at Rachel and they shared a pained frown as New Directions lined up on stage.

Dakota Stanley looked them up and down, with a disgusted frown. "My name is Dakota Stanley and I am a professional dance choreographer for only the top show choirs in the state. Since you want my help, and meet my price, I'm going to tell it like it is - if you can handle it. If you want to beat Vocal Adrenaline, we're going to have to make a few changes. Artie, you're off the team. You're not trying hard enough."

"At what?" asked Artie, taken aback.

"At walking," said Dakota, walking down the line of students, "No, no, no," he said as he passed Kurt, Mercedes and Tina, "Perfect, perfect, perfect; don't change a thing," he said as he passed Quinn, Brittany and Morgan, "Nose job," was all he said as he passed Rachel, making her gasp and hide her bulbous nose under her hand. Buffy glared at him, waiting for him to make a comment as he sidled up to her, "Eh, I'll make it work," was all he said before he stepped up to Finn.

He'll make it work? thought Buffy, scandalized.

Dakota chuckled as he stepped in front of Finn. "I'm sorry; I don't see how any dance routine is going to work with Frankenteen dragging his knuckles around the stage."

Finn frowned and rolled his eyes. "I don't have to take this," he grumbled, and walked off stage, out of the auditorium.

"Finn's right," said Kurt, "I'm leaving, too."

"Yeah, they are right," said Buffy, "I don't have time for this. You're fired."

"You can't fire him! I paid for him to coach us!" cried Quinn as Buffy walked off stage and towards the exit with everyone else.

"Well, maybe I should fire you, too, Barbie," said Buffy, turning around.

Quinn laughed. "I don't work for you, freak. I can be in this club if I want to."

"Fine. Stay. I don't care. Do whatever you have to do to maintain your boyfriend and your stupid reputation. I have bigger fish to fry."

xxx

"Sh-She-Mantis."

"She-Mantis? As in female praying mantis woman creature... thing?"

Tina nodded, her laptop balanced on her lap in the choir room.

"I should go find Finn and warn him," said Rachel, pulling at the edges of her sweater.

"He won't believe you," said Buffy.

"It's better than sitting here and waiting for a She-Mantis to snap his head off!" cried Rachel, striding out of the choir room.

"She won't actually snap Finn's head off, will she?" asked Kurt, worriedly.

Tina nodded. "The p-praying mantis m-mates by chopping off a virgin male's h-head," she said.

"Finn's a virgin?" gasped Kurt.

"Finn reeks of virgin," said Mercedes.

"How do we stop her?" asked Buffy.

"Mantises are s-sensitive to b-bat sonar," said Tina.

"Okay. Bat sonar to weaken it and then I guess hacking it to pieces always works like a charm," said Buffy.

xxx

Out in the car park, Rachel sprinted up to Finn in her penny loafers before he could leave in his mother's pickup truck.

"Finn, wait!" she called before he could pull out of his parking space.

"Rachel. What's wrong?" he said, leaning out of the window.

"You can't go to Ms. French's house," she said, short of breath.

"Why not?" he asked, squinting down at her.

"She..." Rachel didn't know how to put it. She's an evil praying mantis creature? There had to be a more subtle approach. "She's a criminal!"

"What?"

"Yeah. She'll steal your stuff if you go there. And... murder you. She's a suspect in Dr. Gregory's murder!"

"I doubt that."

"You think I'm lying?"

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Finn rolled his eyes. "Look, I know I shouldn't have kissed you in the auditorium. That was my fault. But I'm sick of everyone getting jealous just because an older woman has an interest in me."

"Jealous? I am not jealous!" cried Rachel.

"Sure. And Ms. French is just a crazy murderer who's out to get me."

"Finn, please-"

"Just stop it, Rachel. You're making yourself look stupid," he said before he backed up and drove out of the school parking lot, leaving Rachel standing slack jawed in his parking space.

xxx

Outside the door of Ms. French's condo, Finn smoothed down his Old Navy cable-knit sweater and his black Levis. This was his version of dressing nice. He wore the same sweater on his first date with Quinn Fabray and she'd made fun of him for being adorably unfashionable. But now Finn was worried that Ms. French wouldn't find him quite as endearing as Quinn or Rachel did. What if she liked sophistication in a man? He should've gone Mad Men style and borrowed one of his father's dusty suits that hung up in the basement.

"Finn," said Ms. French as she opened the front door for him.

"Hi," breathed Finn.

He liked the way Ms. French said his name, her voice all deep and sultry like Lauren Bacall in those old movies his mom made him watch with her. He followed her in to her small, simplistic home, sitting down at the couch beside her with her kitchenette behind them. The house smelled sweet, like peppery perfume, the light dimmed and a candle lit on her coffee table.

"I'm so glad you could make it tonight," she said, the end of her sleek bob brushing her bare shoulders.

She crossed her legs in her short, strapless sweater dress, showing off her sun kissed calves.

"Wine?" she offered, pouring the blood red liquid into two wide wine glasses.

"Sure," said Finn, his voice wavering with nerves, and took one of the glasses, taking it to his lips and forcing the vinegary alcohol down his throat.

"You know, I chose you for a reason," she said, leaning in close and caressing Finn's neck with her cranberry nails.

"Wh-What was that?" asked Finn, his tongue starting to feel dry and heavy.

Perhaps it was just the nerves, but Ms. French started to look blurry and distant...

"Because you're not like other boys," she said softly, her words echoing in his brain until he fell forwards and everything went black.

xxx

Buffy rapped at the apartment door once and stood with her hands on her hips, her lips tight in a frown, giving her wrinkles.

"I know you're in there!" she shouted, before the door swung open and Mr. Schuester stood in a t-shirt and a pair of corduroys, a light beer in his hand looking baffled.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"What are you doing here? Where have you been?" she yelled.

"Shh," he said, looking left and right in the hall of his apartment to make sure no neighbours were getting upset by the commotion, "I know I've been a little absent lately, but I've been busy."

"Busy?"

Buffy was about to burst. Maybe she was overreacting, but at the same time, she wished that she could afford to ever be 'busy'. Instead, she was constantly on her way to save the day.

"Yeah. I started a men's a cappella group," smiled Mr. Schuester, dorkily optimistic as always, "It's called Acafellas!"

"Oh my God, I'd be better off on my own, wouldn't I?" Buffy fumed.

"Huh?"

"You drag me into doing all this junk because it's my 'obligation'. What about your obligation? What about your job? You're allowed to skip work, but not me? No, I know why. Because you can ignore what you have to do and go on with your life like nothing ever happened. But when I ignore my duties, people die."

"What are you talking about?" asked Mr. Schuester, setting his beer down on a table in the hallway.

"We haven't trained once since I came to Lima. Not once. And now I'm on my way to Ms. French's house to chop her to pieces because that's the only solution I could come up with, and I thought you, as my watcher, would maybe like to tag along. As a chaperone," Buffy said sarcastically.

"Ms. French?"

"Is not what she seems. Azimio never came home last night after visiting her, and I'll bet you a shiny penny that he and Finn are gonna have the same fate as headless Dr. Gregory."

Mr. Schuester turned white and grabbed his jacket off the coat rack. "I'll drive you there."

"Good idea, Watson."

xxx

"So, should we just break down the door?" asked Rachel.

Buffy looked squarely at the condo's front door. Rachel had insisted Buffy and Mr. Schuester bring her along to help. Half of it was Rachel's need to feel valid as a Slayerette and half of it was her concern for Finn.

"It's a start," replied Buffy, lifting her foot to kick the door, but before she got that far, the door fell ajar and she dropped her foot to the ground as a little old lady stepped outside, smiling naively.

"May I help you?" she asked in her wavery old voice.

"Uh, does Natalie French live here?" asked Buffy.

"Yes, I'm Natalie French," said the old woman.

"Natalie French, the substitute biology teacher?" asked Rachel.

"My goodness, that's me. But I haven't taught since 1973."

The three shared a look of confusion, and fifteen minutes later they left with a hard candy each.

"So where is the She-Mantis?" asked Rachel as they stood outside of Mr. Schuester's car.

Buffy searched her mind. This was definitely Ms. Mantis's neighbourhood - she'd seen her after she fought the clawed vampire. The clawed vampire, thought Buffy. Lo and behold, Buffy spotted the razor finger vampire limping past the cemetery gates, still sore from the welt she gave him last night.

"I know someone who can help us," said Buffy, and before Rachel and Mr. Schuester realized what was happening, they were following Buffy as she pushed the vamp in front of her, her small hand tight around his neck as she pushed him down the neighbourhood. It wasn't until he whimpered and broke free, running in the other direction that they stopped walking.

"This one," said Buffy.

"But wait, Buffy, how do you-?" said Rachel, interrupted by the commotion of Buffy knocking out a small rectangular window at the side of Ms. French's house, sliding into the window and landing on her feet in a dank, unkempt basement.

Rachel and Mr. Schuester peered into the window to see Buffy facing the terrifying sight of a praying mantis at least six feet tall.

"This must be the place."

So this was Buffy Summers' life. Day in, day out, she slayed and made the world a safer place. It sounded like a good gig, but after your three hundredth chipped nail and your third time failing a pop History quiz, 'baking', as she liked to call it, got mega tiresome. No sixteen year old should feel like a washed up middle aged detective in an 80s cop show. Especially now as she sprayed bug repellent in the eyes - at least, she thought they were the eyes - of what would seem to be her Biology sub, to a civilian. Buffy landed a final blow in the mantis lady's thorax with a machete as bat sonar sounded in the dim basement.

"Turn that off!" cried Rachel, and Mr. Schuester fumbled to hit pause.

Artie had uploaded bat sonar on his iPod; just the techno-geek of the team doing his part to help in a crisis. Artie is good with that kind of stuff, Mr. Schuester thought as he turned off the iPod. Watching Buffy take her machete to the lock of the cage Finn Hudson and Azimio Adams were trapped in, Mr. Schuester thought of not only how crucial her role as a slayer was, but how crucial the people around her were to the slayer's cause. Tina was the brains, most definitely, and Artie could help with everything technology-wise. Rachel was the spirit; constantly pushing and motivating and looking for some way to help. Mr. Schuester couldn't help but feel like he wasn't needed - in the scoobies, and in glee club. The feeling of uselessness had washed over him over time, especially after his messy divorce with Terri. He reminded himself that he needed to get back on the horse and be a real watcher to Buffy. Because whether he felt it or not, he was a crucial part of the slayer's life.

"Finn, are you okay?" asked Rachel.

Breathless and wide-eyed, Finn stumbled out of the locked bars of the dusty basement with Azimio bumbling behind him, in a state of shock.

"She... was a bug," Finn muttered.

"I know," said Rachel, reaching up to pat his cropped brown hair, her maternal instincts showing, "It must have been awful. And so unfair. She preyed on you just because you were virgins. As if having good standards and being morally virtuous was hard enough in today's society-"

"Hold up," said Azimio, catching his breath, "I 'aint no virgin."

Buffy chuckled as she cleaned the bug guts off of her machete with her ruined leather Burberry jacket. "The jig's up. We know. It was kind of Ms. Mantis's MO."

"It's okay. In fact, I think it's honorable and endearing," said Rachel, making moony eyes as she hung off of Finn's sweater sleeve, the dim-witted boy paying no attention.

"Endearin' my ass," breathed Azimio, "Anybody hears about this and I'll make them slushies rain."

"We just saved your life! How about a little gratitude?" asked Buffy, huffing as some stray blond hairs fell into her face.

"I think we should all just go home and forget this ever happened," said Mr. Schuester, shooing the children out of the basement.

"I don't think I could if I tried," mumbled Finn.

xxx

The next day, for the first time since Buffy enrolled into McKinley High, she and her friends ate in the cafeteria. Maybe it was Quinn Fabray's rumors that Buffy belonged to a street fighting gang, or maybe it was Azimio's secret they held, but either way, no one had graced them with a slushie facial or even hovered a cup threateningly close to their face all day.

"Cafeteria food is overrated," said Buffy, poking her coleslaw - or at least, she thought it was coleslaw - with her plastic fork.

"You gonna eat your tots?" asked Mercedes.

Buffy shook her head and poured her tater tots onto Mercedes tray as a shadow fell over them, and when they all looked up, Finn Hudson stood at the end of their cafeteria bench in his Old Navy jeans and his polo rugby shirt.

"Finn," Rachel sighed, as she did whenever she saw the boy.

"Hi," he said, looking shy, "Look, I just wanted to say, to all of you, especially Buffy and Rachel, just... thank you. I didn't really know what was going on last night. It was all so weird and confusing, but I'm pretty sure you saved my life. I don't really know what's up with you guys - I don't want to know - but I do know you always seem to be around to stop weird stuff like this from happening. You're like superheroes."

Buffy smiled. Superhero, she thought, that's a nice way to put it.

"We're like the scooby gang," said Artie.

"Totally," said Finn, "Anyways, I also wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

"For what?" asked Buffy.

"For being kind of... snobby. Truth is, I took glee for extra credit. I didn't really take it seriously. I didn't really take you seriously. But now I know you're so much more than the losers everyone thinks you are."

The gang was uncertain whether to smile at the bittersweet sentiment.

"In fact, you guys are pretty great, and it'd be cool if I could sit with you," said Finn.

"Of course you can," Rachel blurted out, readily making a space between her and Buffy for Finn to sit.

Quinn glared from across a sea of faceless high school drones at her boyfriend taking a seat at the loser table. Not just any losers, but her boyfriend wanted to go the extra mile and sit with the glee club losers, the rock bottom of the high school food chain. Despite his quarterback status, Finn's cool rep was going down more and more each day as he slowly earned the friendship of those acne ridden freaks, and as his girlfriend, so was Quinn's. But for the first time in her life, Quinn Fabray didn't care about her reputation, because she had a secret much bigger than any she had before.

xxx

Out in the hallway, Emma counted how many steps it would take Will to turn the corner, and somewhere between 1 and 20 Mississippi, she turned the corner and bumped into him. Emma Pillsbury didn't initiate physical contact with just anyone. No, Will Schuester was special. She'd had her doe eyes on him since the day she started working at McKinley High. At the time he'd been unavailable - married to a woman who put the Terri in terrible relationship - but now that Will was divorced and Emma had waited the appropriate year for him to get over his ex-wife, she saw no reason why she shouldn't throw caution to the wind and go for it.

"Oh, hi, Will!" she smiled, pretending to be surprised to bump into the handsome Spanish teacher.

"Hi, Emma," he smiled back, carrying an armload of dusty textbooks.

"How's glee club?" she asked.

"It's great. I mean, we still need two more members to qualify for Regionals, but I'm sure we'll get new applicants in no time. I try to remain optimistic," he said.

"That's great. Optimism is great."

"Yeah. How are you?"

"Great. Good. Actually, there was this thing. This... Tulipalooza," she giggled nervously, taking a flyer for a tulip festival out of her purse, "I thought we could go, me and you. On a date."

Will smiled bittersweetly and sighed. "Look, Emma, if it were any other day... It's just, things have been going on lately in my life and, and I just think I need to spend more time alone right now. Taking care of my responsibilities. I hope you understand."

Emma's smile stayed frozen on her face. "Y-Yeah. Definitely," she breathed, crestfallen.


	7. The Witch

**Chapter 7**

**The Witch**

Buffy clutched music sheets in her hands and sang the backing harmonies. Her light voice was perfect for background singing, and she had a suspicion that that was why Rachel favored her as a musical partner over Kurt and Mercedes, her more flamboyant friends. It was no secret that Rachel Berry was an avid fan of the spotlight. They warmed up that day at rehearsal by singing background for the future Celine Dion, who belted out Taking Chances. And boy, was she amazing. Sometimes her arrogant ways irritated Buffy, but she had to give credit where credit was due, and Rachel was definitely a terrific performer. Some people didn't think as graciously. Buffy took a peek at Quinn Fabray as the show choir sang, and she wasn't surprised to see Quinn glaring at the back of Rachel's chestnut-colored head. As little as Buffy's linger lasted, when she looked back at Rachel, her singing came to a sudden halt and turned into screaming.

It took Buffy a few short moments to acknowledge that Rachel had begun flailing on stage, her hands bursting into roaring balls of fire. The glee club's background singing cut short as everyone gasped and cried out as Rachel stumbled dangerously close to them, waving her fiery arms. Buffy didn't hesitate to rip a long patch of fabric right off of the red stage curtains of the auditorium, and ran to Rachel, knocking the girl to the floor of the creaky stage and smothering the fire with the cloth. Even with the flames put out, Rachel whimpered in fear as Buffy cradled her in the torn fabric.

"Shh. It's okay. You're okay now," whispered Buffy, eyes wide in a state of shock as she looked at Mr. Schuester. They shared a look that confessed that they weren't so sure of that.

xxx

With her sore hands tucked under her arms, Rachel rocked back and forth on a grainy plastic chair in the school's receptionist's office, her face puffy and red from the frightened tears she'd shed earlier that day in the auditorium.

"I've seen some freaky things in my line of work, but never have somebody's hands got toasted!" said Buffy, deep in concentration next to her shaken friend.

Mr. Schuester and Buffy racked their minds on either side of Rachel.

"Are we certain it's something supernatural?" asked Will.

"Mr. Schue, people don't just spontaneously combust," said Buffy.

"But why me? Is someone doing this to me because I'm helping you?" asked Rachel, panicky.

"Rachel, it's okay. I promise you, we'll fix this," promised Mr. Schuester, "You just let your dads pick you up and go home, and don't concentrate on anything except feeling better, alright?"

Rachel nodded, and bit back scared, shaky sighs. For a moment, she'd stepped out of the frying pan and into the fire, in more ways than one, and she didn't like it.

xxx

"Will Rachel be okay?" asked Kurt as Buffy nibbled on her carrot sticks in the cafeteria, over an open book on magic.

"Yeah, I think so, as long that doesn't happen again," said Buffy, scouring a chapter on fire curses.

"Man, that was weird. Stuff like that never happened, before-"

"Before I came? I could have guessed."

"It's not your fault. In fact, you're the one who fixes this kind of thing."

Buffy sighed, exhausted. "I know. When does it stop, though? Santana and the mantis lady and now this-"

"Santana?"

"Yeah. She... She's still missing," said Buffy, thinking on her feet. She was quite certain Santana didn't want the general public to know her business.

"Buffy, Santana's family moved away. Probably to somewhere glamorous like Philadelphia," sighed Kurt.

"Right. Okay," said Buffy, quickly changing the subject "So how are you? No spontaneous combustion?"

"No, not a lot. I am, however, trying out for the football team," smirked Kurt.

"The... football team? I didn't think you seemed like the sporty type."

"Oh, I'm not. It's kind of a web of lies I've been caught in."

"Go on."

"Well, my dad came into my bedroom last night without knocking, as per usual, but this time he caught me in my black sequined spandex vest and my Ex-Girlfriend jeans, recreating Beyoncé Knowles' famous Single Ladies performance-"

"As you do."

"-and my excuse was, that, it was a warm up for football. Because I'm on the team. And now, I have to actually make the team, and then have my dad come to one of my games."

"Kurt, that's crazy," sighed Buffy, "Just tell your dad you were dancing because you like to dance! What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is, my dad is the type of guy who wants to bond with his son over football and beer and... women. I just want to make my dad proud."

Buffy closed her book and frowned. "Kurt, your dad should be proud of you, whether you are a football playing, beer chugging womanizer or a dancing, Broadway-belting sweetheart."

Kurt smiled sadly. "You're sweet, Buffy, but it's not that easy. I love my dad. He's the only family I have left and and if he couldn't accept me for being gay... or if he was disappointed in me... My world would collapse. My dad is all I have. I just want to make him happy," he said in a hushed tone, "Now, you go ahead and find a way to help Rachel. She's in more need of help than me right now."

Buffy frowned as the boy got up and took their dirty food trays to the tray cart. She wished there was some way she could help Kurt right now, but he was right. Rachel needed her help more than anyone right now.

xxx

Rachel let out a heavy sigh.

She was tucked into her cozy bed with her primrose patterned bed sheets, settled into her pink and yellow room, vintage Broadway posters lining the walls and her StairMaster at the edge of her bed. Hiram had slipped her Funny Girl DVD into her television and now she had her head back on her fluffy pillows watching Barbra Streisand belt out her favorite song, Don't Rain On My Parade, trying to immerse any thoughts of treacherous flames bursting from her hands, when she turned her head to a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, pausing her movie and sitting up slightly in bed.

LeRoy stuck his head in and smiled. "Honey, you have a visitor."

"Okay, Daddy," she said, pushing her hair back over her shoulders.

As Leroy disappeared out of the room, the door was pushed open and Finn Hudson ducked slightly under it and came in.

"Finn," said Rachel, pleasantly surprise, "I thought it would be Buffy."

"Oh. Well, I was gonna bring flowers but... "he said, looking awkwardly at his empty hands, "I just came to say, I hope you're okay. That was really weird, in glee club."

"Yeah," said Rachel, barely audible, her heart beating harder and faster as Finn took a seat on the edge of her bed.

"What are you watching?"

"Funny Girl. It's my favourite movie," smiled Rachel.

"Oh, yeah? Is it a comedy?"

"More of a romance, actually. One of many of my Broadway favourites."

"Broadway? Like plays and stuff? That's really cool."

"Yeah," grinned Rachel.

"Look, about what happened at glee rehearsals-"

"I know. It was all very scary and unexpected."

"Yeah. Was that... I mean, it seemed like something, weird. Like something Buffy would be involved with..."

"Yeah. It is. I mean, we think it is. Not normal, I mean," said Rachel, beginning to get flustered.

"Like I said, I don't really want to know what's up with that kind of stuff. It'll mess up my head... But then I keep thinking, what if I randomly catch fire during football practise, or what if every girl who flirts with me is a bug? And then I think, maybe I should know about this kind of stuff. To, you know, be aware."

"Do you want me to tell you about anything?"

"Yeah... No. I don't know. Maybe if I ask... Do you know why your hands caught on fire?"

"I have no idea," Rachel frowned.

"Oh. Okay. Do you know why Ms. French is a bug?"

"I assume she was born that way. Look, I know it's hard to grasp, but not everything has a reason. Some things just are what they are. Or, not what they are, more accurately."

Finn sighed. "Well, that's weird."

"Yeah, it is. Is that all you came for?"

"Yeah. I mean, no! I wanted to apologize."

"You already apologized to us."

"Yeah, but I wanted to apologize to you, in particular. I've been kind of a jerk, and I don't just mean to glee club. I mean, especially to you, and to Quinn. I shouldn't have kissed in the auditorium. I see that now."

Rachel pursed her lips and looked down at her bed sheets, embarrassed and disappointed. She knew it was wrong that Finn kissed her when he was dating Quinn Fabray, but she wished he didn't care.

"I'm dating Quinn. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to her that we kissed. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to. I didn't think that far into it."

"What were you thinking?" asked Rachel.

"I wasn't really thinking at all... It was just, y'know, your voice is really amazing, and those virgin Cosmos in those little airplane cups were really, what's the word... thoughtful, I guess. I mean, I don't know much about romance or anything, but it all seemed really romantic."

Rachel smiled sadly. "It was, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely," said Finn, turning on the bed and looking at Rachel, "And you were just... You were there, and you're not the kind of obvious pretty like Quinn and the Cheerios or anything. You're like, the kind of girl that you kind of get to know and see in the right light and suddenly... she's beautiful, y'know? You're interesting, and your eyes are so brown..."

Rachel leaned in closer to Finn without even realizing it, breathing in his scent of grass and soap bars, her mouth falling open just slightly before he leaned in and brought his lips to hers, warm and smooth and easy. Rachel was shaken out of her perfect moment as Finn pulled away and stood up, holding his arms out apologetically.

"See, I shouldn't have done that!" he yelled at himself.

"Finn-"

"No, Rachel, this was a mistake! I'm sorry, I am, but I have a girlfriend! I'm sorry!" Finn stammered before storming out of Rachel's room, almost bumping the top of his head on the door frame.

Rachel's face crumpled in sadness and embarrassment. This was the second time she'd shared a romantic encounter with Finn Hudson and he'd left abruptly, remembering his more attractive girlfriend. She's probably a better kisser than me anyways, thought Rachel. Before she could bury her face in her hands, she noticed something.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a white square stuck to her bedroom window. She slid out from under her bedcovers and squinted at the peculiar square. As she moved closer she saw it was a small piece of paper that had thudded flat out against her window. Breathing unevenly, she opened the window and caught the piece of paper between her fingers, laid it out on her hands, and read the perfectly spaced, handwritten words:

Watch your back, Berry.

xxx

Buffy sat with Tina and Mercedes on the chilly metal bleachers of the football field, wrapping her arms around herself as the breeze tickled her skin and raised her goosebumps. There were so many questions running through her mind. The most pressing one being, what had happened with Rachel? No one's hands just spontaneously combust into flames. It wasn't possible. Was it?

"Anything more on spontaneous combustion, Tina?" asked Buffy, taking a gulp of her bottled water as they watched the McKinley Titans line up on the football field, all set in their sports gear. Buffy spotted Kurt down on the field, smaller than her thumb, especially under the weight of shoulder pads and those big red jerseys.

"Not really. Most sources said that spontaneous combustion is just a myth, and I can't find much paranormal information on the matter," Tina said quietly, her dark brown eyes settled steely on the bench below her.

Buffy nodded and waited a few beats to reply, flabbergasted. "Hey... You didn't stutter!" she smiled.

Tina picked at the vamp nail polish on her fingers and frowned.

"Can I tell you guys something?" she asked.

Buffy and Mercedes nodded and inched closer to the shy girl in between them.

"I don't really have a stutter."

Buffy and Mercedes shared a look of hesitant confusion.

"But you stutter all the time..." said Mercedes, squinting her eyes in the faraway sun.

"I just put it on," said Tina, "I used to pretend to stutter in grade school, because I didn't want anybody to pay any attention to me, but then I made friends with Artie, because he said he knew what it was like to have a disability. I didn't want him to be disappointed or think I was disrespectful... I just put on the stutter ever since."

"You faked a stutter since grade school?" asked Mercedes, her jaw dropping in disbelief.

"I could never just stop! How awkward would that be, after all this time?"

"The longer you wait, the more awkward it's going to get," said Buffy, and Tina pursed her lips.

As they sat in silence, Buffy wondered just how many people in this town were hiding behind a disguise. Nothing was what it seemed, and she knew that with absolute certainty.

"Go Kurt!" cheered Mercedes from all the way where they sat at the top of the bleachers down to Kurt, who was doing a few Single Ladies dance moves to warm up to try out for the team.

Tina, Kurt, Santana, Mr. Schuester, me. Who else is lying to the world about who they really are? Buffy asked herself as Kurt kicked the football. The ball flew across the field and right over the goal post. Impressive, thought Buffy as her eyes followed the ball through the air, when something caught her attention. Someone was stumbling across the road, trying to come on to school grounds, teetering dangerously close to the speedy cars.

"Rachel!" exclaimed Buffy, and hopped to her feet.

Rachel strained her eyes, but she could barely see in front of her anymore. She could hear cars coming left and right, but a foggy film had started to cover her eyes as she attempted to cross the street to get into the McKinley High campus. The note she'd found on her window after she'd kissed Finn had startled her so much that she'd sprinted straight out of her home to find Buffy, still in her love-heart pajamas, but she was beginning to have a little difficulty. Her breathing rose and fell rapidly as she felt the whip of wind as the traffic drove past her, she could hear the blaring honk of a truck coming nearer and nearer until SLAM!

Rachel's heart may very well have stopped for a moment, until she realized whatever had slammed into her wasn't a truck, but a thin, albeit strong, person.

"Buffy?" Rachel whimpered.

"Rachel."

Buffy huffed as she pulled herself up off of her friend. She had slammed against Rachel to get her off the street and out of harm's way, knocking her to sidewalk. She looked at her friend's face, terrified, her eyes a milky white colour.

"Oh, Rachel..."

xxx

Mr. Schuester shoved a cluttered stack of textbooks and music sheets off of the fabric seat of his office chair to make way for Rachel to sit down. Buffy brought the girl in, her arm slung around Buffy's shoulders for support as she was led in and dropped down on Mr. Schuester's chair. Tina and Mercedes had followed, huddling near Mr. Schuester's desk, their faces almost as white with unease as Rachel's vacant stare. Kurt hovered by the door as Finn entered behind him, his mouth hanging open and his eyes full of worry.

"Rachel..." he murmured, and didn't hesitate to move to the sightless girl's side and crouch next to where she sat, his over-sized hand on her skinny knee.

"Finn," she said, closing her eyes, "I'm sorry-"

"You don't have to be sorry!" he said, patting her leg with concern.

Buffy watched him bring his hand up to her hair and stroke it gently, stopping only to wipe a tear that was rolling down her cheek with his pointer finger. She knew Rachel had a thing for Finn - an intense thing, at that - but she was only considering now that maybe Finn had a legitimate thing for Rachel. A thing that could cancel out whatever superficial thing he had for Quinn.

Unfortunately, Buffy wasn't the only one who was pondering this. Quinn Fabray gritted her porcelain white teeth and wrinkled her brow. In the hall, clutching her locker door with one tight hand, she watched through the slightly murky and cluttered windows of Mr. Schuester's office as her boyfriend stroked Rachel Berry's hair.

Her boyfriend, comforting that... thing? Little did Rachel Berry know, Quinn had something that would make Finn be rid of any other girls. And she wasn't talking about an indoor pool or syphilis or something. Something bigger than that.

xxx

Buffy clucked her tongue whenever she turned a page. It was a random habit that had gone unnoticed until Tina had pointed it out. The thing was, Buffy wasn't much of a bookworm, but now that Rachel needed her help more than ever, she'd stole away to the choir room with Tina and buried herself in a box of books on curses and enchantments.

"Anything?" Buffy asked, for the third time in ten minutes.

"Still no," sighed Tina, who was scouring the internet for dark magic that sounded fitting for their situation.

"It's just, first it was the fire and now she's gone blind... I know that whoever's doing this is out to hurt Rachel, but what if they're out to kill her?"

"We can't think like that. Plus, Finn is with her."

Buffy nodded and went back to her books. Surely, Finn would be able to keep her safe until they could plan their next move. Buffy looked up as she heard someone clear their throat in the doorway.

"Mr. Schue?"

"Buffy, can I talk to you for a minute?" asked Mr. Schuester, peering around the door frame.

Buffy pushed the dusty manuscripts aside and groaned as she hopped up, meeting Mr. Schuester out in the empty hallway while everyone else attended classes.

"Anything?" asked Buffy.

"No, nothing," sighed Mr. Schuester, bowing his head down as the two walked very slowly down the hallway and spoke in hushed tones, "There's someone I know, though. An old friend who might be able to help. I called her. I don't know if she can do anything, but we need all the help we can get right now."

"Definitely. Who's your friend?"

"Just an old high school classmate. She's a techno-pagan. I don't know; she took it up after she got bored with Kabbalah. But she knows about a lot of paranormal activity."

"Well, that's great. Like you said, we need all the help we can get if we want to make Rachel feel safe again."

"Yeah, and, look, after all this is done, when Rachel's safe, I want to train you. Bust out the wooden boards and the nun-chucks and give you the whole shebang. I mean, y'know, what watchers do. Since I'm your watcher. And I can even get my friend to teach you some things about magic and demonology, probably-"

"Mr. Schuester? Is this about what I said to you last night, before we saved Finn from the bug lady?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Mr. Schuester, still walking slowly along with Buffy, staring at his shoes.

"I yelled at you. I ridiculed you. I may have made fun of your hair, I don't remember."

Mr. Schuester chuckled. "Buffy, you meant what you said. And I respect that. And... it was duly noted. I understand there's more to being a watcher than just watching. I have to take the initiative, like you do, to make you a better slayer so you can do what you do best."

"Well, great. Thanks."

xxx

Tina sat with her head slumped in her hand as she clicked the down button. Website after website after website had the same old thing about the legend of self-combustion and causes of blindness, no matter how obscure the search. She wasn't getting anywhere until... hold on... Tina sat up straight and read the passage at least three times. Something about blinding being a favorite curse among witches. It was vague, but it was enough to get them started. A witch, thought Tina, as she shut her laptop and rose out of her seat. Of course. What else could do this? But what witch would want to hurt Rachel Tina got up to walk out of the choir room, ready to call Buffy's name, when she was suddenly stopped at the door by Quinn Fabray who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Tina caught her voice in her throat and choked.

"Q-Q-Quinn-"

"Q-Q-Quiet, Cho Chang!" Quinn said angrily, her hands tight on the hips of her cheerleading uniform, "Doing a little research, huh?"

Quinn backed Tina slowly into the room, into the silence.

"What, cat got your tongue?" asked Quinn, "Good. Keep it that way. Or I'll make sure you never get to stutter again."

xxx

"So I was reading those dusty textbooks you gave me to research in, and, I saw this thing that shoots arrows-"

"A crossbow?"

"Yeah! Can we train with a crossbow?"

"I don't think you're ready to handle a crossbow."

"Oh, I think I'm ready to handle a crossbow!"

Buffy shoved Will's arm playfully as they walked slowly and aimlessly down the hallway.

"We should be researching," said Mr. Schuester, biting back a giddy smile.

"You're right. Rachel needs us to help her," nodded Buffy, turning back to go to the choir room, when she stopped in the spot and stifled a scream. She and Mr. Schuester had turned around to see Tina standing behind them, her eyes wide with terror and muffled screams coming from her...

Buffy's eyes widened as she noticed that there was no mouth on Tina's face. Her lips had completely disappeared, like skin was covering her mouth completely.

"Tina!" Buffy gasped, as Tina tried to shout for them to help her, her voice muffled.

Mr. Schuester led her to his office and shooed the girls in, closing the door behind him and making sure no one was prowling the halls.

"Oh my God, Tina," said Finn, standing up from where he'd been crouching beside Rachel.

"What? What happened to Tina?" asked Rachel, sitting up in alarm, her eyes still completely white and useless.

"Her... mouth is gone," said Finn, not trying hard enough to mask his disgust.

Tina ducked her head and blushed bright red under everyone's stare.

"Tina, what happened?" asked Mr. Schuester, pushing a pen and a legal pad into her hands.

Tina fumbled with the pen until she began to write rapidly. She turned the paper to Mr. Schuester, and everyone read in her curly-cue writing; Quinn Fabray is a witch.

"Wh-What? What are you talking about?" breathed Finn.

"What _are_ you talking about?" asked Rachel.

"Tina, how do you know?" asked Buffy.

Tina scrawled all over the page and pushed it back to Buffy. I was about to come tell you about witches, she wrote, when Quinn stopped me and threatened me, and when she left, my mouth disappeared!

"Y-You think Quinn did this?" asked Finn, baffled, "That doesn't make any sense!"

"Quinn Fabray did this? How?" asked Rachel, panicky.

Tina flipped the page on the legal pad and held her first sentence out, her eyes widening as she underlined it.

"Quinn Fabray is a witch," said Buffy, so Rachel could know.

Rachel sat back in her chair nervously. "That explains the note," she said.

"What note?" asked Buffy.

"I found a note in my bedroom... Right after Finn came to visit. It said, 'Watch your back, Berry'," said Rachel.

"Finn came to visit you?" asked Buffy.

Finn looked down at the ground sheepishly. "We kissed," he said.

Buffy sighed, and frowned tiredly. "So I guess Quinn Fabray is a witch. How do we stop her?"

Just as Buffy asked, Mr. Schuester's cell phone started to ring in his back pocket.

"Hello?" he answered, holding the cell up to his ear, "April?"

"Who's April?" Finn mouthed to Buffy, but she just shook her head.

"Actually, I have a question. Say there's a suspicion that someone might be a witch. How would we prove that?" he asked into the phone, and as he listened intently to the reply on the other line, he started scrawling stuff down on his legal pad.

On her tip-toes, Buffy peered over Mr. Schuester's shoulder and watched as he scrawled, 'Boil eye of newt. Add hair. Skin turns blue = Witch.'

"Thank you, April! You're a lifesaver," he smiled into the phone, hanging up and shoving it back into the back pocket of his Levis.

"What does that mean?" asked Buffy, pointing to the legal pad.

"It's a potion. We boil eye of newt in a flask of water and add a strand of Quinn's hair, and if the potion turns her skin blue, we know she's a witch!"

"Okay, one question. How am I supposed to spill a potion onto Quinn Fabray without her noticing?" asked Buffy.

"Well, you'll need Finn's help," sighed Mr. Schuester, looking at the boy, whose mouth hung open.

xxx

Mrs. Margolis sat back in her creaky wooden chair at her desk with a box of glazed donuts and her face stuck in a crime drama. Buffy was glad her Chemistry teacher had chosen today to be completely inattentive while the others did an experiment out of their textbooks. No-one noticed as Buffy sneaked a newt from the cooler at the back of classroom. They were being kept there for dissection in Biology next week, but Buffy was doing an early experiment. Sitting alone at her marble counter, she boiled a flask of water over a Bunsen burner and cut out the newt's tiny eye with a scalpel, dropping it into her flask, unnoticed.

From where he sat at the top of the classroom with his girlfriend, Finn nervously swiveled his head back and forth until Buffy gave him the signal.

"Hey, um, I'm gonna ask that Buffy chick what to do next," Finn said to Quinn, a nervous liar.

"It says it in the book," said Quinn, busy mixing chemicals into her beaker, following the instructions with impeccable precision.

"Right, but, y'know, I don't really understand most of what's in the book... So I'm just gonna ask her... " said Finn, sliding off his stool and walking down to Buffy. Quinn's eyes followed him briefly before she turned back to her experiment.

Finn walked nervously down to Buffy's counter, almost tripping over his own long legs.

"Well?" asked Buffy.

Finn held up a single, long, straight, corn silk hair in front of Buffy's face.

"Perfect. Put it in," she said, and the boy dropped it into the beaker.

"What now?" Finn asked, rubbing his monstrous hands on his jeans, rocking back and forth nervously on his suede Nike sneakers.

Buffy blew on the concoction and brought it off of its heater, forcing it to cool. "Spill it on her."

"How am I supposed to do that? She'll know something's up!" he hissed.

"No, she won't! I've seen you dance, you're a notoriously clumsy guy. Just go and pretend to trip and spill it on her!"

"Fine!" Finn hissed, taking the beaker of clear liquid with a tiny eye floating on the top, and as he reached the top of the classroom, he kicked his foot against Quinn's stool and fell forward clumsily, spilling the mixture all over the cheerleader's arm.

"Finn!" she cried, holding up her wet arm and shaking the water off.

Finn bit his bottom lip as the damp patches on her arm started to turn a light blue.

"Finn, what did you do?" she cried, becoming alarmed by the color of her skin.

"It was an accident!" Finn exclaimed.

Mrs. Margolis rolled her eyes behind her horn rimmed glasses and closed her book down on her desk.

"Let's get you in the power shower," she sighed.

xxx

"So that's just it. Quinn Fabray is a witch," said Buffy.

"That's crazy! I've been with Quinn for a year and I've never noticed anything weird. Wouldn't I know if she was a witch?" said Finn.

"You saw the potion, Finn! Your girlfriend is a witch, and she's after Rachel," said Buffy, making Rachel squeeze the arms of Mr. Schuester's swivel chair.

As the four teenagers sat in the office and argued about Quinn Fabray, Mr. Schuester tapped on his glass door and came in.

"You guys, I want you to meet someone. This is April Rhodes; a friend of mine. She knows her way around witchcraft, so she'll be able to help us," he said, followed in by a small blond woman who looked a little older than their teacher. The woman looked chipper and cheerful despite the situation, standing at barely five feet tall in a cherry print day dress, but her expression turned alarmed and solemn as she saw Tina sitting on the edge of the desk with a smooth surface of skin where her mouth should be, and Rachel, her eyes clouded over milky white, blinded.

"Oh, you poor babies," April sighed in a Southern accent, "What can I do to help?"

"Well, one, we need to reverse the spells Quinn Fabray put on Tina and Rachel. And two, we need to make sure she never does anything like this again," said Buffy.

"And this Quinn Fabray is our witch?" asked April.

"Yes. She's a student here, at McKinley. I'm guessing she did this to Rachel because Rachel kissed Quinn's boyfriend, and she did this to Tina because Tina found out about her," said Mr. Schuester.

April put her hand on her chest in pity for the hexed girls. "Well, one thing I'm sure of is that to reverse the spells, you need to get a hold of the witch's spellbook. I'm not a witch myself but I know a Latin verse to remove all of the spells used in the spell book done by its owner. It's basic Witchcraft 101."

"And what about making sure Quinn's powers come to a stop?" asked Buffy.

"Well, I don't know about that. This Quinn's just a kid, and she sounds like a very misunderstood one, too," said April.

"I don't know about that," huffed Buffy, looking at Rachel's glazed over eyes, "I think we understood her loud and clear."

"What I mean is, Quinn's doing a lot of harm, but she's not some sort of monster you can slay," said April, "She's a human being and what she really needs is to be reasoned with. Maybe you can talk to her parents."

"Well, we'll have to, because you and I are going to Quinn's house and retrieving that spell book, okay, Buffy?" said Mr. Schuester.

Buffy sighed and nodded. Right now, she would concentrate on reversing the spells, but what was she supposed to do when it came to dealing with Quinn? April was right; she wasn't just some vampire they could dust. She was a human - she had a soul - she had to be dealt with in a more civil manner. But how?


	8. The Cheerleader

Rovello Drive smelled like freshly mowed grass and barbecue pits. The way she imagined every small town suburban neighborhood to smell. But this place... Quinn Fabray's neighborhood was like something out of a fairy tale. Every home on the street was at least three stories high with white marble columns on the front porches and hedges pruned into animal shapes. Mr. Schuester's baby blue '97 Honda looked so out of place with the Bentleys and the Rolls Royces in the long cement driveways. If Quinn was so rich, why did she go to McKinley High instead of some fancy, Catholic private school? Buffy wondered.

"This is the Fabrays'," sighed Mr. Schuester as he parked outside a three story home with a Mercedes parked in the driveway.

Buffy looked out of Mr. Schuester's window and sighed. Some girls had everything.

Mr. Schuester used the brass knocker on the door when they'd stepped up the porch's stone steps, and the door creaked open to reveal Mrs. Fabray, a woman with the same honey-colored hair placed to perfection as her daughter. Her smile was plastic. Her dark eyebrows raised high as she smiled at Will and Buffy.

"May I help you?"

"Mrs. Fabray, we need to talk. About your daughter," said Will.

Mrs. Fabray's smile disappeared. "Please, come in," she said graciously, and ushered them into her home.

Buffy's eyes trailed around the foyer of the Fabray house. There was a wooden polished grand staircase and a wine red carpet that covered the hall floor. The family photos of the Fabrays lined the walls, every one placed in a gold gilt frame. Buffy didn't realize Quinn had an older sister. She wondered if she was a witch, too.

"You have a beautiful family," said Mr. Schuester.

"Thank you," smiled Mrs. Fabray, "Frannie left us to go to Ohio State University last year. Studying Finance."

"That's great," said Mr. Schuester, before Buffy gave him a look that said, 'cut the chit chat', "Look, Mrs. Fabray, we need to talk to you about Quinn."

"Please, call me Judy. Should I make some tea?" asked Judy.

"That won't be necessary," said Buffy, "Listen, Judy, have you noticed Quinn acting... strange?"

Judy picked at a French polished fingernail and shook her head, avoiding Buffy's eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

"Actually, I think you do. Listen, Quinn is dealing with some pretty powerful stuff, and if you don't help us, someone could get hurt."

Judy looked up nervously, her light green eyes fearful. "What has she done?"

"For starters, she set a girl on fire," said Buffy.

Judy's face fell, and she started to look ill. "I really think I should make some tea..." she said, stumbling into the kitchen like a zombie.

Buffy and Mr. Schuester followed her in as she filled the electric kettle and switched it on.

"So, go on," she said, pushing a strand of blond hair behind her ears.

"Q-Quinn," Buffy stammered, taken aback by the woman's nonchalant behavior, "She set a girl on fire and then blinded her! Don't you see how serious this is?"

"I do. Of course I do. I just... What am I supposed to do about it?" asked Judy, looking helpless.

"She's your daughter. You have to do something. She'll listen to you," said Mr. Schuester.

Judy smiled, almost amused, and shook her head. "She won't listen to anyone. She's too powerful. Much too powerful..."

"How long have things like this been happening?" asked Buffy. Judy Fabray looked frail. She look scared.

"My family comes from a long line of witches," said Judy, "But I gave that up when I met Quinn's father. He's a devout Christian. He thought witchcraft was the work of the devil... So I gave it up. I thought it was worth it. My magic for my husband. It was a fair trade, wasn't it? Magic was banned from the house. I almost relapsed when my looks started to slip... See, I wasn't the most beautiful girl, but when I started dating, I used magic to help me. I made my skin clearer and my hair blonder and my features more elegant. But when I met Russell, I had to make due with more natural methods. Make up, chemical peels, creams... It's all so much more tiring than just doing it with a snap of my fingers, but I did it for him. But Quinn... See, Francis was lucky. She's a plain looking girl, but poor Quinnie. She looked just like I did at her age. Frizzy brown hair, bulbous nose, awful skin. She had my bad metabolism, so she was a heavy girl."

Buffy frowned. Even if she had turned out to be a total dog, she couldn't imagine her own mother ever talking about her like that.

"I had to do something, didn't I? Quinn could never have the life she would've wanted if she looked so... I mean, the children used to taunt her at school for looking like she did. I couldn't allow it to go on any further. I never had to show Frannie any magic. She looked fine. Nothing that needed as much attention as Quinn. I told her about the witches, and showed her how to make herself thinner with a simple spell. I told her she had to do it gradually, so that Russell would've thought she was just exercising - losing weight naturally. She was very good at it. Very precise. I showed her how to make her hair blonder and her skin softer. And now she's beautiful. But, she was so interested in magic ever since. Levitating pencils and such, nothing too difficult. But it became... She would conjure things. Make things happen. She had a fight with Francis one day, and afterwards, Frannie's pet hamster spontaneously combusted. Russell and I told Frannie it was a freak accident, but I suspected the truth. Quinn had done it. She was starting to scare me, so I banned magic from the house, but she... She wouldn't listen. If I ever tried to stop her, she would do things. Conjure fires. Put little hexes on me that I could never prove was her doing..."

Judy stopped, clutching the pearl necklace around her neck.

"You're afraid of her?" asked Buffy.

"You don't understand. She's so powerful for her age."

Buffy sighed. "We need her spellbook."

"W-Why?"

"We need to reverse the spells Quinn did. One of my friends is blind, and the other is mute, because of your daughter. She has to be stopped!"

Judy only smiled sadly and clutched her pearls. "She can't be stopped. Not by you."

"You want to bet?" said Buffy, as she stomped back out into the Fabray's hall and trotted upstairs.

"Please, you're not going to tell my husband, are you?" Judy asked, fearfully.

Mr. Schuester rolled his eyes in disgust and followed Buffy.

xxx

"Ready? Okay!"

The McKinley High Cheerios clapped their hands together and began their routine. Quinn Fabray ducked down with Brittany to catch hold of Morgan's feet and lift her up into the air. Just as she did, Quinn felt a strange sensation running through her body, and Morgan wobbled in her grasp.

"Steady, Fabray!" called Morgan.

"Quinn, are you okay?" asked Brittany, as Quinn squinted, her head buzzing.

Quinn gasped as she spied the ends of her blond ponytail rested on her shoulder, curling upwards and turning the color of brown sugar. Quinn dropped Morgan's foot like it was hot coal, sending the girl falling to the floor, hard on her back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Morgan cried, getting up and clutching her head in pain.

"I... have to go..." said Quinn, hiding the end of her ponytail in her hand and rushing out of the gymnasium.

xxx

"What the hell are you doing?"

April Rhodes looked up from her little black book where she kept her 'just in case' Latin spells. A blond cheerleader had busted into the Will Schuester's little office, her eyes aglow with fury. A cinnamon brown color was creeping up the girl's honey blond hair. The white from Rachel's eyes were dimming, and Buffy could see the outline of her brown irises appearing slowly, just like a sunken crease beginning to form on Tina's face.

"You must be Quinn," said April.

"Don't stop reading! It's working!" said Buffy, and April went back to reading Latin aloud from her notebook.

"Don't even think about it!" said Quinn, and as she shook her hands, sparks of fire sizzling from them.

Finn gasped from behind Rachel's chair, and Will backed into Tina, pushing her out of the way. April continued to read nervously in front of Will's desk as Quinn held turning balls of fire in the palms of her hands, the natural brown of her hair growing and growing until it reached her roots and Quinn stood with frizzy auburn curls cascading down her back from the confinement of her scrunchie. She tossed a small blast of fire at April.

"Hey, watch it, girl!" April said angrily, the fire touching the edge of her notebook which burnt at the tip and curled off.

April started flicking through the pages, looking for a new spell. She started speaking in Latin again; a different verse, faster and angrier, and the fireballs in Quinn's hands dispelled immediately, much to Quinn's dismay and disbelief.

"What-?" she uttered as the fire disappeared, along with the tips of her fingers.

Finn and Rachel's eyes were full of shock and distress and their mouths hung open, watching the now brunette Quinn Fabray slowly disappear from her fingertips onwards.

"Stop!" shouted Quinn.

"Stop! You're killing her!" shouted Rachel, who looked terrified.

"Please!" pleaded Quinn, "I'm pregnant!"

As the others stopped to stare in disbelief, Buffy ran to April and smacked the book out of her hands.

"You can't kill her," said Buffy, turning to Quinn, "And not because we feel bad for you. We don't. You would've killed one of us in a heartbeat, I'm sure. But, I have a code. You're a human, not a monster, even if you act like one. And if you're telling the truth... if you're really pregnant... I'll let you go on one condition."

"What's that?" asked Quinn, frightened tears slipping down her face.

"Extensive therapy."

xxx

"Okay. So, just so that I have things clear, Buffy Summers never attacked you?"

Quinn's eyes bore into Ms. Pillsbury polished desk. The germaphobe probably scrubbed it every morning with a brand new toothbrush, she thought.

"Nope. Never happened," Quinn replied.

Today, she felt tired. Maybe it was for the best that Buffy and her freak friends had stopped her. It was getting extremely tiring to retain hold of her perfect image. Berry could have Finn. Who cares anymore, right? No matter how hard she tried, Quinn's reputation would be down the drain when she'd get kicked off of Cheerios and celibacy club for her big pregnant belly that would appear in a few months' time.

"And, in fact, you attacked Buffy? A-And Tina Cohen-Chang... and Rachel Berry?"

Quinn closed her eyes. She could feel a headache coming on.

"Yes, I did. It was a heat of the moment sort of thing. Rachel Berry kissed my boyfriend- But that's not important."

"Well," sighed Ms. Pillsbury, her eye widening with alarm, "Thankfully the girls aren't pressing charges. They're not angry, Quinn, they're concerned."

Quinn smirked and sat back in her chair. Buffy and her geek minions weren't concerned. They just wanted to find a way to keep Quinn out of their hair. If they were really concerned, they would've stayed out of Quinn's way. Let her have her boyfriend back. A month ago, she was a gorgeous blond, with a quarterback boyfriend and a 3.9 GPA. But after Buffy Summers had come to town, everything went south. Finn had strayed - to Rachel Barbra Berry, nonetheless. An epic embarrassment. And now that Mr. Schuester's tiny, annoying girlfriend had reversed her spells and destroyed her spell book, she was stuck a mop of brown curls; the kind she had when she was in middle school. Now every morning she'd have to take a hair straightener to her frizzy brown hair, until it was sleek and smooth, and place in her ponytail. But being a brunette was the least of her problems.

"So, I think we should make time every day to talk. Just for an hour," said Ms. Pillsbury.

Quinn had blocked out most of what she'd said. "Sure. Whatever," Quinn replied, swinging her blue purse over the crook of her elbow and walking out.

She strutted down the school hallways, smiling subtly as every few students took a double take and basked at her new hair color. Minus the frizz, Quinn rocked the brunette look, and she knew she was going to miss the masses' adoration for her when she wasn't popular anymore. As she saw her tall boyfriend approaching her frm down the hall, she thought for a moment that maybe he'd think her new hair color was sexy. It was only a few shades lighter than Berry's. But then she remembered the secret she'd let slip yesterday.

"Can we talk?" Finn asked, the words barely slipping out of his tight lips.

Quinn frowned and nodded, leading her boyfriend into an empty classroom.

"So, are you really-?" said Finn as he closed the door behind them.

"Pregnant?"

"Yeah," breathed Finn.

Quinn nodded. "Yeah. I am."

Scared out of her mind a week ago, Quinn had bought a pregnancy test and went to Taco Bell to use it, too scared to bring it home. It came out positive, but she convinced herself that sometimes these things were wrong. Maybe it was wrong. Please let it be wrong. But it made sense. All the symptoms were there. And she could feel it. As much as she wished she wasn't pregnant, she knew she was. She was just too scared to tell her parents. What would her father think?

"Is it... mine?" asked Finn, crestfallen.

Quinn's heart thumped against her chest. "Of course it is," she lied.

"But... we never..."

"Remember that time in the hot tub...?"

Quinn remembered a time a month or two ago, she and Finn had a make out session in her family's hot tub. It was the farthest she'd ever gone with the boy. She never felt the need to get close to Finn, unless it was to keep him in her reach. But Finn had a problem with... arriving early. He ended up soiling the hot tub, and Quinn thought perhaps he was just dumb enough to think that that incident could get her pregnant.

"Oh my God," breathed Finn, stumbling backwards and leaning on the classroom chalkboard, "Are you gonna...?"

"No," said Quinn.

Adultery and sex before marriage was bad enough, but Quinn couldn't even bear the thought of getting rid of her baby.

"Look, we'll talk about this later. I need to clear my head. Don't tell anyone," said Quinn, slipping out of the classroom, leaving her burly boyfriend breathless.

xxx

That night, Buffy spotted someone walking through the uncut grass of the Lima cemetery, and she had to blink at it twice before she could register the face in her muddled mind.

"Santana," said Buffy, "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been keeping a low profile," said Santana, swinging a leather tote over her shoulder, "I was just taking a short cut."

Buffy eyed the short hem of Santana's purple floral-print dress. She didn't seem to be cold in the chilly Ohio spring breeze.

"People at school seem to think you moved away," said Buffy, frowning coldly.

"Good," said Santana, brushing a lock of black hair back.

"You told me your parents were dead."

"Well, I was lying, Buffy," Santana rolled her eyes, "I don't owe you an explanation for why you find me so alluring and mysterious."

"Then what do you owe me? Because I let you stay at my house. I trusted you for no good reason. I told you I was the slayer, which is a really big thing to tell someone you don't know anything about!"

"You don't need to know anything about me! You shouldn't care. You don't know me."

"But I want to!" cried Buffy.

She was only realizing now how hard it was not seeing Santana for so long after she spent the night with her.

"Why would you want to do that?" asked Santana, shaking her head.

Buffy sighed. "I don't know. I just know you're someone I can trust, and that's hard to find. And I can tell that you understand, what it's like-"

"I don't. Don't assume anything about me, okay? It'd be better if we weren't friends. It would only mean trouble."

Buffy frowned. That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"You were friends with Quinn Fabray."

"Yeah. So?"

"So. I found out that she's a witch."

"Yeah. I know."

"Well, then why didn't you say anything?"

"Why would I? I'm not your personal messenger, Buffy. I'm not the little friend you get to keep from everyone else and tell all your darkest secrets. I have enough going on in my life without all the slayer's troubles."

Buffy frowned and folded her arms, turning her head away into the dark of the woods beside the cemetery. She'd wanted to see Santana again for so long, but now that she was here, it was all going wrong.

"Well, I didn't mean to be a burden," Buffy grumbled.

Santana sighed and shook her head. "You just don't get it, slayer."

Buffy whipped around, gritting her teeth angrily. "What don't I get? You think that I'm going to have some big problem if I knew who you really were. I wouldn't! Because I do know who you are! I know that you're someone I can trust and someone I can laugh with, and I know that you care about me, because otherwise you wouldn't be trying to protect me or help me so much. I knew that from the moment I met you, that you would always try to help me. Excuse me for wanting to get close to someone like that. Don't be so shocked and confused about me caring about you, when I know you care about me, too!"

"You remind me of someone," Santana said, softly.

Buffy opened her mouth and closed it again, taken aback. "So that's why? You want to protect me because I remind you of someone else?"

"Yes. No... I mean, you're a good person, Buffy. And you're valuable to this town. I try to help you because you try to help everyone else. And... you remind me of a girl I fell in love with."

Buffy closed her mouth, surprised by Santana's answer. She had no idea Santana was in love with someone. A female someone. Buffy couldn't tell if she was feeling pride or jealousy.

"I'm leaving now, Buffy. That's me, protecting you," said Santana, hoisting her bag over her shoulder and walking off into the darkness.

Santana Lopez had no reason to feel bad. And yet she did. Buffy was the slayer. If there was anyone she had to keep her true identity from, it was her. But there was something about the slayer that was so trustworthy - so good - the she felt compelled to confide in her. She did remind her so much of Brittany. A little more level-headed. A little more independent. A little more confrontational. But despite all that, Santana couldn't help but see Brittany every time Buffy whipped her wavy golden locks around. In fact, that night she'd harbored at Buffy's home, she'd thought that maybe Buffy could make a nice substitute. Her eyes lingered around Santana the way Brittany's did. It would be a nice way to be close to someone without hurting the one she truly loved. It never occurred to her that maybe if she got close to Buffy the way she was close to Brittany, she would be hurting someone she loved, anyways.

Oh, stop it, you don't love Buffy, Santana told herself. And she didn't. She only met the slayer a couple times. Love was out of the question. But that didn't mean the girl wasn't usually on her mind, and in her heart. There was something that bonded the two of them that Santana couldn't put her finger on. Something bold and dangerous and primal inside of them. That reminded Santana of someone else.

"Quinn," Santana said into the night.

There she was, sitting back in the driver's seat of her father's black Mercedes. Santana barely recognized her if it weren't for the leafy green eyes that shone bright even at twilight and the snobby frown, with her chin held high. Quinn looked up as she heard her name called, and smirked when she spotted Santana approaching the outside of her car.

"Where have you been?" said Quinn, slamming the car door behind her as she exited in her white eyelet sundress and her brown wedges.

Santana realized why she didn't recognize the girl. Partly because her hair was now light brown and partly because she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Quinn out of her Cheerios uniform.

"Out," replied Santana, almost excited to see someone from before she became a vampire, but suspicious as to why Quinn had suddenly decided to drop by.

Quinn eyed Santana's tote bag and smirked knowingly, as if she knew it was full of plastic packs of butcher's blood.

"Is it true? That you're..."

"A creature of the night? Uh-huh. Thanks for asking," Santana said, coldly.

"This isn't my fault," Quinn frowned.

"Yeah, well, I still have my soul, no thanks to you."

"What was I supposed to do, Santana? I'm not a Wiccan goddess. The most I can manage is spontaneous combustion and blinding my enemies."

Santana shook her head. She didn't want to fight with Quinn. Normally, she would be happy to, over just about any topic. But she needed a friend right now.

"Come in," said Santana, clutching her tote and leading Quinn down the walk way to her front door, "Spontaneous combustion, huh? Sounds cool."

Santana closed the door behind them as the girls entered the cold and quiet Lopez house.

"It is pretty cool," said Quinn, looking around the foyer before Santana could walk her to the kitchen and flip on the lights.

"And blinding? Who'd you do that to?" asked Santana, as she emptied the blood bags into the fridge.

"That hobbit, Rachel Berry," said Quinn, her smile faltering a little.

When April Rhodes had almost made Quinn vanish into oblivion, Rachel had cried out for her stop. Ever since then, making fun of Berry didn't feel quite right. It almost felt... mean. But that didn't mean she wouldn't do it.

"Berry?" said Santana, furrowing her brow as she leaned up against the fridge, "What'd she do to you?"

"She kissed Finn," Quinn said quietly.

"No way? Berry got game?"

Quinn cringed. "Berry most certainly does not got game. Finn is just... I mean, he's a teenage boy. They'll go anywhere they can get it, right?"

"I guess so," said Santana, clutching a blood bag in her hand and strutting to her father's liquor bar. Thankfully, one thing her parents forgot was their alcohol. Santana spent a lot of time making cocktails out of blood and vodka. She called it a Bloody Lopez.

"Want one?" asked Santana as she mixed her drink in a martini glass.

"No, thanks," said Quinn, waving her hand.

"Don't worry; I won't put blood in yours. I'll make you a lemontini, I remember you like those."

"No, Santana. I can't."

Santana frowned and put down her martini glass. "Well, why not? Are you finally taking this upstanding Christian citizen thing to heart, because let me be honest with you, that's really lame."

"No, Santana," said Quinn, looking down at her sterling silver 'Love Waits' purity ring, "I'm pregnant."

Santana almost spit out her Bloody Lopez. "Pregnant? With Finn's baby?"

Quinn avoided Santana's eyes and shook her head. "With Puck's."

Santana started to feel dizzy, and not because of the cocktail. She stumbled out from behind her father's minibar and took a seat beside Quinn at her marble island counter. "Whoa."

"I know," said Quinn, her head down as a lock of golden brown hair fell in front of her eyes.

"That's... Wow. Have you told anyone yet?"

"Just Buffy and the glee club freaks. So they wouldn't hurt me."

"Why would they hurt you?"

Quinn sighed shakily, holding in tears. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but all she wanted to do was sob nowadays.

"I did some pretty bad stuff to Rachel and her friends. They could've gotten hurt... It doesn't matter. I'm done now and they're keeping my secret. It's okay."

"It's not okay. If it were okay, your painted on Barbie eyes wouldn't be tearing up, would they?" said Santana, placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn looked up at her friend, happy that that's what she was; a friend. The two girls had had their differences in the past, but now it all seemed so petty and trivial.

"Finn thinks he's the father," said Quinn.

"Well, he's going to find out he's not eventually."

Quinn shook her head. "No. He's not. He's the one person who's not going to know. Okay, I get it, at some point everyone at school is going to find out that I'm pregnant, and... so will my parents. But Finn never has to know he's not the father!"

"Quinn, you can't do that."

A tear slipped down Quinn's face. "I'm going to lose everything I worked for. I just want to keep him. Everyone's going to hate me. Can't he be the one person who still loves me?"

Santana frowned and wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulder. "I still love you, LQ. You can bet that I'll still love you when you get all fat, too. Even if a lizard baby pops out in nine months' time, I'll still love you."

Quinn laughed under her tears. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Quinn rested her head on Santana's shoulder and sighed. "Puck. He's... There's something wrong with him. You know what I mean? He has a problem."

"A once-a-month furry problem? Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I started to think we should do something. He doesn't even know."

"It's only three nights a month. And what happened last month was a total freak accident. It's normally only animals and stuff that he hurts out in the cow fields, y'know? I don't think he has to know if he's not really hurting anyone. It's so rare to be normal nowadays. I think we can give him that."

"You don't think the baby-"

"No, I don't. That kind of thing is only transferable through bites. Your baby will be totally normal and probably gorgeous."

Quinn frowned. "I don't really have gorgeous DNA."

"Yes, you do. Hello, girl, look at that hair color. That is sexy! Why did you ever cover that up?" smirked Santana.

Quinn snorted. "Do you think it'll be a witch, like me and my mom?"

"I do," said Santana, "You Fabray chicks got a lot of powerful mojo. That kind of thing doesn't just skip a generation."

xxx

Terri Delmonico pulled at the sleeve of her scalloped tunic. She was in the middle of a salmon bagel when an unknown force had summoned her right out of her seat. She'd probably scared the waitress, but she didn't really care now. As always, the cold, dank lair gave her shivers up her spine, and so did the demon lord who inhabited it. D'Hoffryn stood over her on a platform, wrapped in a brown burlap robe. He was a horned demon with a blue undertone to his pallid skin and a set of beady black eyes.

"Terrinka," the demon called with his low, booming voice, looking down at the nervous woman.

"It's just Terri," she corrected.

D'Hoffryn frowned at her. "Terri. I suppose you know why I've summoned you here."

"Uh, no. No, I don't. I was in the middle of a lunch so-"

"Your time as a vengeance demon has been abysmal. I did this as a favor for your cousin but I'm starting to regret it. You haven't even chosen a specialty yet."

Terri frowned. "It's only been a year! And I'm pretty sure I'm working on my specialty being women scorned by men. I mean, that's a big demand, right?"

"Be that as it may, there are two strikes against you."

"Two strikes? For what?"

"One being your first wish against that ex-husband of yours."

"What? That was a perfect punishment for what Will did to me!"

D'Hoffryn rolled his eyes. "You gave him a perm."

"What?! He used to have the dreamiest hair! Now he'll never get his Patrick Dempsey look back."

"It was an embarrassment."

Terri sulked. "Fine. What was my second strike?"

"The restoration of Santana Lopez's soul."

"I don't understand," said Terri, furrowing her brow, "That went perfectly."

"Not quite, I'm afraid. Did you forget you were a vengeance demon, and not a fairy godmother? You may not realize it yet, but what you did was a curse against the vampire."

Terri's mouth dropped open. "Th-That can't be right!" she stammered.

"Oh, it is, Ms. Delmonico. I gave you the powers of a vengeance demon. You wield the type of magic to inflict pain, not help the needy. When you gave Santana Lopez her soul again, a curse came attached with it."

"What curse?"

"The curse of eternal despair. If Santana were to ever experience true happiness, her soul would be compromised, and she'd be the demon she was supposed to be."

"That can't be..." breathed Terri, staring at the floor.

"Oh, but it is. There better not be a third strike, Terrinka-"

"Terri."

"You have one more year to prove yourself with an outstanding display of otherwordly vengeance, or I will revoke your powers, like happiness will revoke Ms. Lopez's soul."


	9. The Ballad

**Chapter 9**

**The Ballad**

"Guys, I'd like you to give a big New Directions welcome to our new members; Noah Puckerman and Mike Chang," said Mr. Schuester.

Buffy and the others clapped half-heartedly as the two football jocks took seats by the cheerleaders on the plastic maroon choir room chairs. Buffy hoped she wasn't the only one who noticed the hostile look Quinn gave to the buff guy with the mohawk. Maybe it was just her imagination.

"Since when were you two interested in glee club?" asked Quinn coldly, tossing a chestnut coloured ponytail over her shoulder.

"Since we saw Hummel laying those moves on the football field," said Mike Chang, leaning back on the squeaky chair.

Quinn scowled and folded her arms, unsatisfied.

"What does Quinn have against the football guys?" Buffy muttered to Rachel, who only shook her head, staring down at Quinn from her seat on the top bench.

After class, Mr. Schuester walked April down the hallways. Swinging the hem of her green leather mini skirt, April wore a wide, white smile as she looked up at Will Schuester.

"It's been real nice to be back in Lima, Will," she said.

"That's great, April. It's been really good to see you again," smiled Will, "You look like you've been doing great. And the kids really like you, too."

"Oh, stop," blushed April, waving him away bashfully, "So how's Terri?" she asked, spying the pale circle around his ring finger where his wedding band used to be.

"I-I don't know," stammered Will, "I haven't seen her since the divorce."

"Oh, well. Who needs her, huh?" she grinned, playfully jabbing Will's side with her elbow.

Will chuckled alongside her until he stopped at the corner of the hall, bumping into a familiar redhead.

"Emma," said Will.

"Will," said Emma, her doe eyes widening, "And, um..."

"Emma, this is my friend April!" said Will, introducing the women.

April smiled and held out her hand for Emma to shake. Emma cringed, but decided to be polite, daintily shaking April's hand, and was unexpectedly pulled into a tight hug with the short woman.

"Oh, uh, OK," Emma stammered as April let go of the friendly hug.

"How have you been?" asked Will.

He hadn't seen the woman since he'd refused a date with her. He'd felt bad about it ever since, especially when she started to avoid him in the teacher's lounge. He missed her cute chit chat and the way she individually cleaned her grapes. And those brown Bette Davis eyes. They were so big he could fall right in and get lost.

"I've been fine," smiled Emma, faltering just a bit, "Busy, with work, I guess. But fine."

Will smiled tightly and nodded, an awkward silence passing through the trio.

"So I should get back to work," said Emma, "I have a session with Quinn Fabray so I'm just gonna let you go with your girlfriend-"

"Girlfriend? Oh, April's not my girlfriend. No. No, no no no," Will shook his head of curls vehemently.

"Oh, okay. Bye," said Emma, nodding her head and smiling ever so slightly, as April frowned in disappointment.

"Really? Five 'no's?" she asked when Emma was out of hearing distance.

"Sorry," said Will, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm guessing that's someone special," sighed April.

"Kind of. Maybe."

"Well, figure it out, boy, 'cause she sure likes you."

Hand in hand, Quinn Fabray and Finn Hudson passed their Spanish teacher and his weird witchy lady friend.

"Do you think they're dating?" asked Finn.

"Ew. Who cares? They're old," replied Quinn as the teenagers milled about between classes.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, I had this... thought."

"Shocker."

"I was just playing video games last night, and I looked out of my window and it was drizzling, and I was just thinking how much I like that. When it's drizzling. Because it's kind of cool like rain but not wet enough to-"

"Is this going somewhere?"

"Yeah. I wanted to suggest that we name our baby Drizzle."

"Drizzle?" frowned Quinn.

"Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but celebrities are always naming their babies weird things. Like Nicholas Cage totally named his kid Kal-El, which I thought would be a good middle name-"

"Finn, stop it!" hissed Quinn, looking left and right as they walked through the hall, "We are not naming our baby anything, OK? It's not going to be our baby. We're giving it up for adoption."

"Right, I know," said Finn, looking down at his shoes, disappointed.

"So don't concentrate on baby names. Right now, why don't you just concentrate on paying the ultrasound bill, because that's kind of urgent."

"You got an ultrasound?" asked Finn.

Quinn sighed, tired. "Yeah."

"And... Do you know-?"

"It's a girl."

The dumb-founded look of both awe and sadness almost broke Quinn's usually icy heart, so she turned away to avoid his hazelly eyes and ended up with a face full of icy grape slushie. Finn and Quinn took a sharp intake of breath as the cold drink hit their faces. It had hurt more than they ever would have guessed, partly because it felt like getting smacked in the face with an iceberg and partly because everyone in the corridors stopped to stare at them, their jaws hanging.

Finn whipped around and slammed the culprit, Dave Karofsky, up against a wall of lockers.

"What the Hell, man? You can't do that!" he yelled in the meaty jock's face.

"I can do anything I want, Hudson!" yelled Karofsky, pushing the tall boy away from him, "You and girlfriend are fair game now that you ripped up your reputation and flushed it down the toilet. You have no one to blame but yourselves! You done screwed up!"

Laughing with his moronic friends, Dave swaggered away and Quinn stared at the linoleum tiled floor, her face dripping with a purple syrupy concoction. It was starting. Her life would crumble right in front of her eyes and this single slushie in the face was a symbol of the beginning. She couldn't just sit there and watch her world fall down around her, so she picked her pride up and tried to figure out her next move.

As per usual, the cheerleader's next move would be a hostile one.

"You told!" she fumed.

Buffy dropped her California roll into its plastic container as the cheerleader came at her in the auditorium, her porcelain face and her chestnut ponytail dripping with an icy substance.

"Did you get slushied?" asked Buffy, slightly amused.

"Because of one of you!" Quinn said, glaring at the scooby gang, her fists clenched.

"What did we do?" asked Mercedes.

"One of you told someone I was pregnant, and now the whole school knows!" Quinn cried, her face getting red with rage.

"None of us told," said Buffy, looking over at her friends hopefully, "Did we?"

"I didn't. I would never!" Rachel said defensively.

Tina only shook her head mousily, afraid to talk in front of Quinn after what happened last time.

"Don't lie to me!" yelled Quinn, and Buffy noticed with alarm that her clenched fists began to glow orange, plumes of smoke escaping from the palms of her hand.

Finn backed away a few steps from behind his fuming - literally - girlfriend.

"Quinn, calm down!" said Buffy, standing up with her hands raised in surrender, "What exactly happened?"

Quinn took a deep breath and tried to calm down, her hands still glowing hot. "Karofsky slushied us. He said we screwed up! What else could that mean?"

"Well, I think it would actually make more sense that he meant joining glee club, opposed to getting knocked up..." said Kurt.

Quinn closed her eyes and took deep breaths until the heat in her hands disappeared and they were back to their natural pale complexion.

"I'm starting to think that Ms. Pillsbury can't give you the kind of therapy that you need," said Buffy.

xxx

This was the kind of therapy Quinn Fabray liked. With little effort, she raised a 2B pencil out of Mr. Schuester's '#1 Teacher' mug. It just slipped out from under the ballpoint pens, and, for some reason, a Twizzler.

"This is too easy," said Quinn.

April frowned at her. The girls sat opposite each other on velvet Pottery Barn throw pillows that April brought from home, after school in the dark of the choir room with pumpkin scented candles burning on Brad's piano. Quinn levitated the pencil out of its holder and made it twirl itself around in the air, spinning faster and faster in a circle.

"Stop showing off," scowled April, "It's not about how much power you have, 'cause Lord knows you got a lot. It's about how well you control it."

Quinn smirked as she made the pencil twirl back and forth in an 8 motion, and spun it around with rapid speed over and over.

"I'd say I control it pretty well," scoffed Quinn.

The pencil twirled faster and faster until suddenly, Quinn lost the telekinetic grip, sending the pencil flying, its sharp led end sticking right into Mr. Schuester's white board.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little rusty," she cringed.

xxx

Santana tapped her fingernails against the kitchen table, her mouth shut tight.

"Santana? Did you hear me?"

After a few moments silence, Santana nodded, and looked up at Mrs. Pierce on the other side of the Pierce family's round wooden breakfast table.

"I don't understand. Why would it be... How could it go wrong?"

Phoebe shook her head, looking distressed. "Terri is a vengeance demon. Every spell has to be something... vengeful. I'm so sorry."

Santana frowned at the table top. "Where's Brittany?" she asked.

"Trying to get into Pottermore," said Phoebe, looking up at the clock hanging above the kitchen sink.

"Don't tell her. It'll only make her worry," said Santana, and Phoebe reached to clasp her hand from across the table.

"We are going to do everything we can to fix this, Santana, I promise," said Phoebe.

Santana nodded. "No, I know," she said, her voice quiet and strangely calm, "I'm just gonna say goodbye to Brittany. And go home."

Phoebe watched Santana slide off of her chair and saunter out into the hallway. Santana almost turned to go upstairs to Brittany's room, when she noticed the blond girl in a sleep cami, and, for some reason, a long black robe.

"Brittany?" said Santana, walking over to her best friend, her pale blond hair cascading down her back as she held a long stick in her hand with a rounded end, "What are you doing?"

Brittany smiled warmly up at Santana, peering at her with her cat-like sea blue eyes.

"Waiting for my Hogwarts letter to come," said Brittany.

Santana smirked. For one of the most popular girls at school, Brittany was a major dork.

"I love you, Britt," said Santana.

"I love you too, San," replied Brittany without hesitation, turning back to the post box in her front door.

But Santana wasn't sure how she'd meant it. She knew Brittany loved her, but was she in love with her? It's not like their attraction was a secret. They'd made out before - plenty of times. But they'd always waved it off as 'just a little bit of fun'. Did Brittany ever feel the need to settle down with Santana? To be in a real, honest relationship where Santana could kiss her in public and take her out for Valentine's Day? Santana decided not to dwell on it, as it would be too painful when she had to leave.

"Goodbye, Brittany," Santana smiled bitter sweetly.

"Bye," Brittany smiled, her eyes warm and innocent.

xxx

The next day, Quinn held her head high through the halls of McKinley High, her hands rested on her hips in her trademark authoritative strut. She felt confident that she looked amazing - not baby bumpy. Not yet. And she felt confident that nobody knew her secret yet. She was just being paranoid every time she thought someone was sneaking a peek at her slightly bulging stomach.

"Sup, Preggers," greeted Noah Puckerman, swaggering up in his McKinley letterman jacket.

"Puck!" Quinn hissed, whipping her head around to make sure no one heard.

Students milled about around her, apparently unaware.

"So I hear you're knocked up," said Puck, raising a fine, dark eyebrow.

"Who told you that?" grumbled Quinn.

"Finn. My boy tells me everything, and I'm pretty damn sure he would tell me if he lost his virginity. The hot tub? Really?"

"Puck, shut up!" hissed Quinn, "It's none of your business."

"I'd think it was my business, considering it's my baby," Puck said, his voice low and hushed as he peered around him to make sure no one was listening.

"Puck, listen to me!" snapped Quinn, "I don't care if this baby comes out with a mohawk, Finn is going to keep thinking that he's the father, and that's that."

"What makes you think Finn would be a better father than me, huh?"

"Because Finn is going somewhere. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he has ambition and morals. He can provide for me; and you... you're just a Lima loser."

Puck sighed, his face softening. "Q, I can be a good father. I wouldn't walk out on our baby like my old man did. I would be there for it."

"Her."

"What?"

"The baby's a her, Puck."

Quinn's heart broke as she watched Puck's face light up. Why do they all have to do this? thought Quinn, Why does knowing that the baby is a girl make such a difference, like it's so real now and one day it's going to be their little princess?

"It doesn't matter, okay, Puck? I'm giving her up for adoption," said Quinn, pushing past him on her way to the gymnasium.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Cheerios practise," she grumbled.

"That's probably not good for our daughter!" said Puck, holding her back by her shoulder.

"She's not our daughter! She's not your daughter, she's not my daughter... She's not our daughter!" snapped Quinn, whipping back around to him.

"Well, then whose daughter is she?" snapped Puck.

Quinn shook her head, holding back more hormonal tears. "I have to go," she muttered, and stormed away.

She took deep breaths before she entered the gymnasium, where she threw her gear bag to the ground and stepped up to the horde of Cheerios already waiting for her in a group.

"Okay, girls, today will be less active and more about planning how to trump the Westerville squad this Spring," said Quinn, flipping her brown hair back.

She looked over to find Morgan Ru and all the other Cheerios huddled in a group, just staring at her, unwelcoming.

"Guys, what's going on?" asked Quinn, her arms folded over her abdomen.

Morgan looked at the other girls a moment before she turned to Quinn and said, "We voted."

Quinn frowned. "On?"

"On whether you should be cheer captain or not. In fact, whether you should even be on the team or not," said Morgan.

Quinn grimaced and jutted her chin out. "And?"

"It was unanimous," said Morgan, "Well, except for Brittany. But we didn't really take her opinion into account. She probably doesn't even know what unanimous means."

A few of the Cheerios snickered as Brittany blushed in the crowd, looking down at her white Keds.

"So, that's it?" asked Quinn softly, "I'm off the team?"

"Looks like," Morgan smiled, "Oh, and I quit glee club. There's no reason to keep trying to please you when you dropped so far down the food chain you're eating Rachel Berry's dust. Plus, I heard you attacked, like, the whole club with a knife. Joining Buffy's street gang, huh?"

"It wasn't the whole club. And there was no knife," grumbled Quinn, under the sound of the cheerleaders' cackling.

"And what was that you said before, Quinn? You could squash me like a bug?" laughed Morgan.

Rejected and embarrassed, Quinn felt hot tears dampening her eyes, and she ran out of the gymnasium before anyone could see her crying. She thanked God that everyone was in class, because she wouldn't want to face invasive questions if anyone saw her backing up against the wall and sinking down to the floor, tears sliding down her face as her chest heaved in heavy sobs. As much as she tried to plaster up some pretty floral wallpaper, she couldn't stop the walls from crumbling in on her. And this was just the start. First it was the slushie, and then it was getting kicked off of Cheerios. Then what? Would she get kicked out of school, and out of her home? Would Finn dump her when he found out that Puck was the father? All of her friends and family would leave her and what would she have then...? She thought for a moment that maybe she should keep the baby. Even if no one else cared about her, she would be able to hold on to that baby girl for her last source of love. But was that fair to her daughter?

"Quinn?"

Quinn looked up, her face red and streaked with tears. She was surprised to find Brittany Pierce standing before her. Sure, they were friends, but their relationship seemed to falter after Santana left. She was the one who made Quinn and Brittany hang out in the first place. That's when the trio's rule over McKinley started. Now it was all over.

Brittany sat down on the cold linoleum tiles, crossing her legs beside Quinn.

"I'm sorry about Cheerios," Brittany said softly.

Quinn shook her head. "It's not your fault, Brittany. You're the only one who didn't vote to kick me out."

"I think I'll quit, too."

"No, don't do that, Brittany. You love cheerleading."

"Not as much as I used to. It used to be fun, because I love to dance, and because Santana was there. But now, everything's different. I feel so lonely every day," frowned Brittany.

"I know what you mean," sighed Quinn.

"Well, if you feel lonely, and I feel lonely, why don't we just be lonely together? We can be like real friends again and dance at glee club instead of Cheerios."

Quinn smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Brittany. I can see why Santana liked you so much."

Brittany smiled and stroked Quinn's chestnut hair. "The unholy trinity always sticks together."

Quinn smirked. "Unholy trinity? I like that."

xxx

"Who can tell me what a ballad is?"

"A male duck," answered Brittany.

Mr. Schuester rested his marker back on the ledge of the white board and rubbed his temples.

"Buffy?" he asked, even though Rachel Berry's raised arm was sticking up in the air in front of her face.

"It's a love song, right?" asked Buffy, unsure. When she heard the word ballad she thought of Celine Dion belting on a boat deck.

Mr. Schuester smiled encouragingly. "Sometimes, but they don't always express love. Ballads are stories set to music," he explained, "Ballads are what we use to express feelings that we can't get out any other way."

From the corners of her eyes, Rachel spied Quinn snuggling onto the arm of Finn Hudson. Rachel used to think that maybe Quinn Fabray's beauty was just the illusion of her trendy cheerleading uniform, but she looked even more gorgeous out of it, and in her butter yellow babydoll dress.

"For Sectionals, the judges specifically asked for a ballad."

Rachel's eyes lit up. "That sounds like a perfect way to showcase my vocals," she smiled to herself, ignoring the grimace of the rest of the group, "I guess my bi-weekly letter to the Ohio Show Choir Committee finally paid off."

"That's why this week I want all of you to pair up and sing a ballad to each other," said Mr. Schuester.

"Then Finn and I will go together," said Quinn, her warm brown hair falling around her shoulders instead of tied up in a tight ponytail as usual.

"No, too easy," said Mr. Schuester, "You're all going to pick a name from out of this hat, and that will be your partner."

"I bet the duck is in the hat," Brittany murmured to Quinn.

"Who wants to go first?" smiled Mr. Schuester, shaking a fedora full of scrunched up pieces of paper.

Quinn and Rachel both leaped up at the same time, but Rachel stood back in surprise as Quinn strutted forwards to take her pick from the hat. She smiled softly as she unfolded the crumpled piece of paper.

"Brittany," she smiled, and went back to sitting beside her friend, stuffing the tiny piece of paper in the pocket of her cream cardigan.

Shaking back her brown hair back, Rachel strode forward to unfold a piece of paper from Mr. Schuester's hat. She didn't even try to hide the disappointment in her eyes as she read the name on the note.

"Puck," she said, and took a seat next to the mohawked football player, who wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Who's next?" asked Mr. Schuester, shaking up the papers in the hat.

Mercedes didn't hesitate to walk up and take hers. "Artie," she said, smiling at her friend, and passing Kurt as he walked up next.

"Finn," said Kurt, smiling widely, and Mike got up to unfold a note that said, 'Tina'. He smiled sweetly as his eyes landed on the Gothic girl smiling back at him.

"And since Morgan Ru dropped out of glee club," said Mr. Schuester, "Buffy, you'll have to pair up with me."

Buffy rolled her eyes at the quiet giggling that followed. "Fine," she said.

"Can you clarify what kinds of songs you want us to sing, Mr. Schue?" asked Artie.

"Why don't you let Buffy and I demonstrate?" asked Mr. Schuester, Buffy feeling the stage fright coming on under Mr. Schue's charming smile.

"I'm not Rachel, Mr. Schue, I can't just burst into song. I'm not that good, anyways," blushed Buffy.

Mr. Schuester just smiled and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Buffy," he smiled, taking her hand and pulling herself up with him in front of Brad's piano, "There must be something you can sing on the spot. What's your favorite ballad? It doesn't have to be vocal heavy, just something you know all the words to."

Buffy racked her mind for a song that matched Mr. Schuester's description. "Well... I-I know all the word to the Divinyls... um, I Touch Myself... " she murmured.

"What song was that?" asked Puck, putting a hand around his ear and leaning forward.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I Touch Myself!" she yelled at the club, who erupted into laughter.

Will smirked. "Wow, I thought you'd be too young to even know that song. I don't think it's very appropriate, though."

"Why? It's a great song, and it's an acceptable ballad," said Rachel, her chin in the air.

"I love that song," smiled Finn.

"Okay, no, that's fine," said Mr. Schuester, turning to Brad, "Can we get The Divinyls, I Touch Myself. Something simple, B flat."

Buffy's heart thumped as Brad started playing out the starting notes of her favorite song. Her heart started thumping for a different reason when Mr. Schuester came in with the first line.

"I love myself, I want you to love me. When I feel down, I want you above me," he started to sing, his voice silky smooth, giving her a cheesy grin as he nodded his head to the music.

It sounded less like the '90s pop rock song she'd listened to a thousand times and more like a smooth easy listening piece, but she didn't mind it. And this was definitely an inappropriate song for a teacher and his student to sing together, but again, Buffy didn't mind it.

"I search myself, I want you to find me. I forget myself, I want you to remind me."

Buffy grinned at her dorkily adorable teacher and came into the song with her light voice.

"I don't want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself," they sang together.

Most of the class snickered at the song choice, but Buffy chose to ignore them. Mr. Schuester sounded good - and looked good - singing. Oh, no, thought Buffy, warning signals flashing in her mind, Am I getting a crush on Mr. Schue?

"You're the one, who makes me come running. You're the sun, who makes me shine. When I'm around you, I'm always laughing. I want to make you mine," Buffy sang.

The girl couldn't help it. When she sang with Will it was like she was seeing him for the first time. And what she was seeing was super, super cute.

xxx

"Sing to me everything you feel," sighed Kurt.

He couldn't help but remember that the last person who helped Finn rehearse after hours in the auditorium got a big wet Hudson kiss. There was just one thing different about this time.

"I can't sing to a dude," sighed Finn, rising from where they sat at the piano stool and pacing down the empty stage, rubbing his forehead.

"Well, you have to try," Kurt said softly.

"I can't, okay?! I'm sick of everybody pushing me around!" cried Finn, clutching his temples.

"Your lashing out at me is fantastically compelling and inappropriate," said Kurt.

Finn sighed and shook his head. "I know. Look, dude, I'm sorry. I just... Everything's so stressful right now, y'know? First I find out that vampires and witches and other random weird stuff was just walking around without anyone knowing. And then all this stuff with Quinn..."

"Sounds like girls are your problem," sighed Kurt, "They're up, they're down. Girls."

Finn nodded and sat back down at the piano seat, rubbing his lap. "It's the baby," he sighed, "My daughter. There's so many things I want to say to her and I'm never gonna be able to, y'know? Well, of course you don't know, but, you know what I mean. I don't want her to think me and Quinn just abandoned her. We love her. I mean, I love her. But Quinn probably does, too."

"You gotta let it out," said Kurt, putting his hand on Finn's shoulder.

"How?"

"By singing. I know this assignment is for you and me, but I think you should use it to sing to Quinn. Let her know how you feel. When's the next time you're going to see her?"

"Well, tonight. I'm having dinner at her parent's house," said Finn.

"Perfect! Sing to them, too. Just get your feelings known in a subtle and effective way," said Kurt.

Finn smiled. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man!" he said, and gripped Kurt's shoulders in a short hug, making the smaller boy blush.

"My pleasure," sighed Kurt.

xxx

Will turned the key in his lock until he felt satisfied with the loud click. He hung his keychain up on the holder that his ex-wife had bought at Pottery Barn and left behind when she moved out. Will threw his coat around a chair in the dining room and stumbled through, falling on the couch and flipping on the TV. It had been a long day of correcting irregular verbs, not to mention the googley eyes Buffy gave him when they sang I Touch Myself in glee club. Oh, why did he have to sing that song with her? He knew that look she'd been giving him, and he didn't like it one bit.

He sighed as a cold light beer was handed to him from over his shoulder, with the cap already off.

"Thanks," he sighed and clutched the damp beer by the bottleneck, then quickly he sprang up off his seat and twirled around.

Buffy smiled at him from behind his couch, over-dressed in a red satin halter dress and red lipstick that was a shade too dark. With her hair curled and smoothed, she looked like a porno version of a '50s housewife. Will's jaw dropped.

"Buffy, w-what are you doing here?" he stammered.

Buffy smiled up at him, her hazel eyes still innocent.

"Last time I was over I noticed how bare your apartment was. I thought it could use a woman's touch," she smirked, gesturing to the velvet throw pillows and the scented candles she'd put around his living room.

"Well, thanks, but... It's late, Buffy. You should be at home. Let me drive you-"

"It's only seven, Mr. Schue," Buffy chuckled, "And I can't leave now, I'm baking."

"You're... baking?" asked Mr. Schuester, raising an eyebrow.

Buffy nodded and smiled. "Cinnamon cookies. It's a family recipe."

"I didn't know you baked."

"I don't, usually..."

Mr. Schuester sniffed the air as he caught a scent of burnt cinnamon. He rushed to the kitchen and Buffy followed closely behind as plumes of smoke seeped out of the corners of the oven. He flipped open the oven door and stood back, shaking a dish towel at the cloud of smoke that escaped. He took the hot pan of blackened cookies out and dropped them into the sink with a clatter. Will panted in the humid kitchen and pushed the window ajar so the smoke could get out.

"I am so sorry!" exclaimed Buffy, putting her hand to her chest in sincerity, fingering the cold silver cross necklace on her décolletage.

Will noticed it glinting beneath the smoky air. "A cross necklace?" he asked, walking back towards her and leaning against the island counter, "What, are all the girls following Quinn Fabray chic nowadays?"

Buffy pushed his arm playfully. "No, you dope, it's to ward off vampires! I'm the slayer, duh," she grinned, batting her eyelashes at him.

Will groaned. "Look, Buffy... You shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because it's inappropriate! Not only am I your watcher, but I'm your teacher! And I'm an adult. It's immoral and frankly, scandalous-" babbled Mr. Schue.

"You seem a tad too defensive to me," said Buffy, kicking her leg out and dropping her hip.

Mr. Schuester sighed. Sure, Buffy was a great. She was smart, and brave, and witty. She was beautiful, too, and that red dress she was wearing hugged her curves in all the right places... But that was beside the point!

"Buffy, this is inappropriate. That's the end of it, let me drive you home," he said.

Buffy sighed and dropped her hand on her hip. "Fine," she said, still batting her eyelashes at him with puppy dog eyes.

xxx

"Finn. Tell me, how are your parents?"

Quinn frowned at her untouched glass of chardonnay. Her father always forgot that Finn's dad died in Desert Storm when he was just a baby.

"My mom is pretty good. She got promoted to Assistant Manager at the Pic 'n Save, so..." Finn trailed off.

Mr. Fabray nodded, disinterested. "Good, good," he said, rearranging his steamed broccoli on his plate, "This is terrific, Judy."

Mrs. Fabray stretched her stiff face to smile at her husband, showing off her pearly white veneers. "Thank you, dear," she said, sipping her wine.

"The ham's great," Finn mentioned nervously.

Quinn could almost see the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. Why was he so nervous? Did he feel wrong, having dinner with her parents when he knew what they didn't?

"No beating Judy's ham," said Mr. Fabray.

"Well, I cure all my own meats," chuckled Mrs. Fabray.

Quinn grimaced under the radar of their mundane chit chat.

"I'd like to make a toast," said Mr. Fabray, clinking his glass of chardonnay.

"Daddy..." sighed Quinn.

"Russell and his famous toasts," smiled Judy, her eyes twinkling at her husband.

"The Fabrays are a tight knit family," said Russell, standing up with his drink in the air, making Quinn blush in embarrassment, "I have been blessed with a loving wife, two remarkable daughters - my first is studying Finance at Ohio State University and marrying a wonderful Christian man, owns his own chain of UPS stores."

Quinn rolled her light green eyes. Her father never tired of bragging about her sister, Francis, the family treasure, as if all of them didn't already know how wonderfully wholesome and mediocre she was.

"And my second, little Quinnie," he smiled, "We're just so proud of her. Captain of the Cheerios, president of the celibacy club."

The sound of her own heart beating filled Quinn's ears. She could almost feel the fetus kicking through her Calvin Klein sundress. All other sounds of her father's voice were drowned out by her heartbeat. She wanted to leap from her seat and run.

"I have to go to the bathroom," said Finn, leaping out of his chair, "Too much pop."

"It's through the kitchen, sweetheart," smiled Mrs. Fabray, her eyes wide in surprise.

Russell's mouth hung open as he watched Finn stumble around and disappear through the kitchen.

"He wears a helmet when he plays, right?" he asked.

"He's just intimidated by you, Daddy," Quinn told him as he sat back down with his glass of chardonnay.

"Well, I can understand that," said Mr. Fabray, "George was a bumbling idiot the first time we met him, but look at him now! I'm proud to call him my son."

Quinn sighed and leaned her head back. Here we go, she thought, she's been gone for a year and all he still wants to do is talk about Francis.

"He and Frannie would make a beautiful baby," sighed Judy.

"She's not even finished with college yet," sighed Quinn, wishing she could down her whole glass of chardonnay.

"She will be. She can go into business with her husband and finally buy their own home," said Russell.

"And then grandchildren!" cooed Judy.

Oh, you're getting grandchildren alright, thought Quinn as Finn walked back into the dining room, breathing deeply, with her mother's old radio in his hand.

"That's my kitchen radio," remarked Judy, confused.

"Finn, what is this?" Quinn asked as he set the radio down on the dining room table.

"In glee club we have this assignment to sing a ballad," explained Finn, "They're all about expressing things you can't find any other way to say."

Judy smiled sweetly as her husband chewed his lean meat and raised an eyebrow, convinced that Finn was a tool.

"God, Finn, don't," Quinn side through gritted teeth, "Please. Don't." She was sure the boy was going to make a fool out of himself.

"No, I need to do this. For both of us," he said sternly.

Quinn shook her head at him, confused. She wanted to kick him and tell him to shut up, but she sat in her seat and bared it as Finn flipped on a cassette tape in her mother's radio. Russell clutched his head, both annoyed and embarrassed as the sounds of some cheesy folk song filled the dining room.

Quinn could only stare at him, her mouth hanging open in despair and disbelief as he began to sing.

"You're having my baby, what a lovely way of saying how much you love me. You're having my baby, what a lovely way of saying what you're thinking of me," sang Finn.

Her parents watched, the words not quite sinking in yet. Quinn stared at the china plate of half-eaten ham and steamed vegetables in front of her. It was happening - her world was falling apart so much sooner than she'd anticipated and all she could do was sit there and listen, watching the disaster unfold in front of her.


	10. The Robot

**Chapter 10**

**The Robot**

Brittany put her hand to bumpy scar that Santana left on her neck. The last time she'd been to Lima Heights, Santana had sunk her teeth into her and drank her blood until she passed out. But Brittany was pretty sure she wouldn't do that tonight. Then again, she'd been pretty sure she wouldn't have done it that night.

Brittany pounded her fist against Santana's front door until Santana pulled it open and peered out at Brittany, standing out in the chilly night.

"Brittany, what are you doing out so late?" asked Santana.

"I came to see you. Where are your parents?" asked Brittany.

"They left, Britt."

"And they forgot about you? Like in Home Alone?"

"Yeah, Britt. Like in Home Alone."

"Well, I wouldn't know," Brittany sulked, "You never talk to me anymore. You just show up at my house once in a while to talk to my mom."

"Brittany..." Santana sighed, and pulled Brittany in for a hug, "I'm sorry."

Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pulled in her tightly, smelling her new scent of blood and vodka. As she rested her chin on Santana's shoulder, she noticed the pile of Louis Vuitton suitcases in the hall.

"Santana, are you leaving to go find your parents?" asked Brittany, pushing past Santana and walking in the hall to look at her luggage.

"No," said Santana, closing the front door behind them.

"Good," said Brittany, turning back around, "'Cause they come back for you in the end of the movie."

"My parents aren't coming back for me," said Santana.

"Why not?"

Santana sighed. "They don't like that I'm a vampire. And a lesbian. But more so because I'm a vampire."

"I'm sorry, Santana," frowned Brittany.

Santana looked down at her black leather Docs. "I was going to leave, to go live with my cousin Callie. She has an apartment in Seattle-"

"Seattle? Like in that movie with Woody the Cowboy?"

"Yeah-"

"Santana! That's far away! Like... at least a whole mile or something."

"Brittany-"

"I barely see you anymore already! I'll never see you if you move to Seattle!"

"That's the point," sighed Santana.

"You don't want to see me anymore?"

"It's not that I don't want to, Britt. It's just... Remember the spell your mom's friend did, to give me my soul back so I wouldn't... bite?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it went wrong. And I'll lose my soul again if I ever feel true happiness. So I can't stay in this town, Brittany. I love you. You make me happy. And that's dangerous."

Brittany furrowed her brow at the black and white checked tiles of the hallway.

"I got it! I'll just never let you see my boobs again."

Santana laughed. "Don't get me wrong, looking at those do make me truly happy... But I don't think that's really the answer."

Brittany sighed sadly. "Santana, you can't do this. You can't just run away from happiness when so many people spend their lives trying to find it," she said, sidling up to Santana and draping her arms over her shoulders, "Sometimes, you have to take the risk."

Santana smiled. "When did you get so smart?"

xxx

Quinn could feel Finn's shaky breaths as he sat beside her on the leather couch of the family den. Her eyes swiveled around the room, avoiding her father's steely glare.

"There must be some mistake," said Mrs. Fabray, breaking the intense silence, "Quinn, we raised you right."

Quinn frowned bitterly at the floor. Did they?

"You did," answered Finn, "We didn't even have sex-"

"Can we just stop with the lying, please?" asked Mrs. Fabray, raising her already high eyebrow arches.

"You were about five years old," Mr. Fabray said, staring at the den carpet as everyone turned their attention to him, "I took you and your sister down to a toy store. It was Valentine's Day, so before I left you with the babysitter so your mom and I could go out to dinner, I decided to bring you to get a little present. You were allowed one stuffed animal, each. You picked out this giant pink bear. It was even bigger than you. Your sister, she just got this little blue giraffe. Then I brought you home... And before the sitter showed up, you started having a tantrum. You wanted to play with Frannie's giraffe. I tried to tell you that it was your sister's and you had to wait your turn and ask nicely... You just got so mad. You had such a temper at that age. Next thing I know... Fire. Just, bursts out of the palms of your hands. At first I thought somehow you'd caught fire and it was hurting you, but I splashed water over your hands and it didn't go out and that's when I realized you weren't hurt. You set fire to your sister's giraffe...That's when I knew. There was something wrong with you."

A single tear slipped down Quinn's red cheeks. "Daddy, I'm sorry..." she whispered.

Mr. Fabray sighed and shook his head, frowning. "You have a demon in you, Quinn," he said, softly, "It's not your fault; it's something... something from your mother's side of the family. But a demon nonetheless."

Quinn took in a shaky breath as more tears rose to her eyes. "Daddy..."

"You need to leave," grumbled Mr. Fabray, glaring at Finn.

"Please, Daddy, can we talk about this?" pleaded Quinn, "Finn is a good guy."

"You, too," said Mr. Fabray.

Mrs. Fabray looked at him in surprise, but kept quiet, pursing her thin lips.

"What...?" Quinn whispered, tears dripping off of her chin.

"Get out of my house," he said in a low grumble.

"What? You can't do that," said Finn, "Please, Mrs. Fabray, do something!"

"Don't bother, Finn," sobbed Quinn, "If she wanted to do something she would've when she found out I was pregnant."

"You knew?" Mr. Fabray grumbled at his wife.

"I- No! She didn't tell me anything," squeeked Mrs. Fabray, fearfully shaking her head.

"But you knew! And I needed you! I needed my mom! I didn't need all the magic. I didn't need to be pretty! I needed you to love me!" Quinn cried, "You were so scared of what he would do if he found out, that you just pushed it aside and threw me under the bus. That's always how it is with you two, isn't it? If you don't talk about something, it just goes away. You taught me that!"

"Do not turn this on us!" shouted Mr. Fabray, standing up, "You are the disappointment here!"

"Why? Because I'm not Frannie?" shouted Quinn.

Mr. Fabray shook his head. "You're not even human."

"Daddy," she cried, "I just made a mistake."

Mr. Fabray glared at Quinn. "Who are you? I don't even recognize you anymore."

"I'm your daughter."

Mr. Fabray shook his head and walked out of the den despite Quinn's tears. Finn breathed shakily and rubbed the small of her back as she wept.

"It's gonna be okay," he repeated again and again until Mrs. Fabray ushered them out of the house.

xxx

Students bustled through the halls of McKinley High and passed the double glazed glass walls of Mr. Schuester's office, cluttered with books and knick knacks.

"Why does he have a Twizzler in his pencil cup?" asked Rachel, throwing out the inkless pens.

Buffy giggled. "He's so quirky."

"Yeah, I guess," frowned Rachel, poking at the Twizzler that was congealed to the bottom of the cup, with fabric fibers and specs of dust stuck to it.

Buffy, Rachel and Tina spent their morning scanning books into Mr. Schuester's computer to get the clutter of manuscripts out of his office.

"Mr. Schuester really is something," Buffy sighed, as Rachel and Tina threw each other brief awkward glances.

"If by something you mean an adult teacher," said Rachel, standing over the desk as Buffy handed books to Tina to scan into the computer.

"He's so smart, like, _so_ smart! And," Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes back, "Sooo handsome!"

Rachel grimaced. "Buffy, he's your watcher, and our teacher."

"So?" asked Buffy, wrinkling her nose, "He's totally sweet and adorable, and I'm pretty mature for my age. I mean, I went to his house yesterday and cooked for him-"

"You went to his house?" asked Tina.

"Buffy, that's so inappropriate! You go there for business, not for... pleasure," scolded Rachel.

"Guys, you're making a big deal out of nothing. It's not like teacher student relationships have never happened."

"You're right, Buffy, but they usually end in one of you getting arrested," said Tina.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "It's not like we're waving our relationship around."

"What relationship, Buffy?" asked Rachel, "Does he even know you two are in a relationship? Because it's hard to be in a relationship with a person who doesn't reciprocate your feelings."

Buffy glared at Rachel as she stood before her in a nautical cardigan. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that maybe me and Will sound unlikely, but it's not any more unlikely than you and some popular jock with a pregnant girlfriend!"

Tina stayed quiet and small in front of the computer as she hastily scanned books while her friends glared at each other, until they heard a tap on Mr. Schuester's glass door. Buffy's eyes lit up as Will poked his head of coppery curls in, smiling awkwardly.

"Uh, Buffy, can I speak to you for a minute?" he asked.

Buffy nodded vehemently and threw a smug grin at Rachel before she followed Mr. Schuester out of the office and down the hall.

"What do you want to see me for?" she asked, barely able to contain a wide smile.

"I want to show you something," he replied, "I made a perfect medley of songs that's going to be a fantastic teaching tool about how to sing a great ballad."

Mr. Schuester led Buffy to the choir room, where sitting on Brad's piano was a CD player, and sitting on the plastic chairs was Ms. Pillsbury and April Rhodes.

"Why are they here?" asked Buffy, disappointed that she and Will weren't alone.

"W-Well, we, too, are very curious about the power of the ballad," Ms. Pillsbury answered nervously.

Mr. Schuester put his hands on Buffy's shoulders and sat her down between Emma and April.

"Okay, Buffy, this is a mash-up of Young Girl by Gary Puckett and the 1980s Police classic, Don't Stand So Close To Me. Now, I want you to listen very closely to the lyrics because I really mean what I'm singing," he said, leaning down to her.

Buffy blushed and nodded and sat back in her chair, waiting for Will to serenade her as he flipped a switch on his radio and the first notes of an '80s ballad started playing.

"Young teacher, the subject of school girl fantasy. She wants him so badly, knows what she wants to be," Mr. Schue sang as Emma nodded in encouragement and April leaned forward in her seat, "With all the charms of a woman, you've kept the secret of your youth. Book market, so close now, this girl is half his age."

Buffy blushed as Mr. Schuester broke into the chorus.

"Don't stand! Don't stand so! Don't stand so close to me! Young girl, you're out of your mind. Your love for me is way out of line. You better run girl, you're much to young, girl," he sang, and the short karaoke music stopped.

Buffy, Emma and April broke out into applause.

"So," panted Will, "Buffy, did you understand the message of that song?"

"Yes," nodded Buffy, "I'm very young and it's hard for you to stand close to me."

Will sighed and dropped his head. "Um, no, Emma, April, would you mind helping me out here?"

"You're a very good performer," Emma sighed, clasping her hands together.

"You, boy, are the next Justin Timberlake," said April, fanning herself.

Will groaned under the stare of the three smitten women.

xxx

That night, Rachel settled in her bedroom with her loveheart pyjamas, her legs folded up on the seat of her desk chair, with West Side Story playing on her TV in the background, looking through Wikipedia. Her dads were taking her to see Book of Mormon in the summer and she made it her business to learn every actors' names, but her mind was muddled and distracted. She kept thinking of what Buffy said to her earlier, about how a relationship between her and Finn would be unlikely and silly to hope for. It'd hurt her feelings, but it was undeniably true.

Rachel's thoughts floated away as a bubble-popping noise filled her earbuds. She had to blink twice to realize that someone was IMing her. Someone named Moloch17.

'Rachel?' was all he typed, the bar blinking expectantly for her to reply.

Her thin fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say.

'Who is this?' she asked, curious, furrowing her brow.

'You don't know me' he replied, 'My name is Malcolm. I just wanted to tell you that I watched all of your videos on MySpace and I'm a huge fan!'

Rachel breathed in a sharp intake of breath. A fan? She'd dreamed about this day, when she'd be recognized for the stellar ingénue that she was and applauded for her effortless talents and determined ambition.

FannyBrice13: Thank you, Malcolm! Did you really watch all of them? That's impressive; I upload a video every evening.

Moloch17: I know; your videos are the best part of my day. I always check your MySpace for a new upload.

FannyBrice13: That's amazing! Surprisingly, not many people have a good review of my performances.

Moloch17: Surely, they're just jealous. You're the most terrific singer I've ever had the pleasure to listen to.

Rachel blushed and held her hand to her chest.

FannyBrice13: Thank you! Which was your favorite video?

Moloch17: Don't Rain On My Parade. It's my favorite by far. I prefer it to the original.

FannyBrice13: Stop it! You're making me blush.

Moloch17: It's true! You're one in a million, Rachel. And beautiful, too.

Rachel's mouth dropped open. The flattery was too much, and she was starting to get suspicious.

FannyBrice13: You're lying. Who is this? Are you someone from school?

Moloch17: It's not a lie! Perhaps I came on too strong, I apologize.

Rachel frowned suspiciously, but she gave in to Malcolm's chivalrous manners.

FannyBrice13: Okay, I'm sorry, it's just that I'm not the most popular girl at school and people can be cruel.

Moloch17: That's teenagers for you. It's so hard to find someone these days with the same emotional maturity level.

FannyBrice13: I completely understand what you mean. Boys my age are unbearably immature.

Moloch17: Yeah, girls my age are so flimsy. It's so rare to find someone with as much class, elegance and ambition as you, Rachel.

Rachel smiled at her computer screen.

FannyBrice13: You're quite the charmer, Malcolm.

xxx

The next day at school, Buffy tucked a plate covered in saran wrap between her hip and her arm as she walked through the high school with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Buffy," called Finn as he approached from behind her.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning around to face him.

"Have you seen Rachel?" he asked urgently, "She wasn't in English this morning, and I wanted to talk to her about rehearsing for Sectionals in a few days."

"I haven't seen her. Have you seen Mr. Schuester? I wanted to give him something."

Finn shook his head. "What are those?" he asked, nodding towards this plate in her arm.

"Homemade cinnamon cookies," she smiled.

"Ooh, can I have one?" Finn asked, reaching out.

"No!" Buffy snapped and slapped his hand away, "They're for Mr. Schuester!"

"Well, that's weird. Anyways, can you help me find Rachel? I really want to get this routine for Sectionals down. I'm sort of looking to get a music scholarship as well as a football scholarship."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I just, I want to make sure that I have a good future. For Quinn."

Buffy smiled and nodded. "I get it. Okay, I'll help you look for Rachel if you help me look for Mr. Schuester. Let's try his office!"

Buffy and Finn sprinted to Mr. Schuester's office, only to find not Mr. Schuester, but Rachel, her legs crossed in a blue buttoned skirt, on Mr. Schuester's computer chair, typing away on his dated keyboard.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" asked Buffy.

Rachel briefly glanced at her friends before she set her eyes back on the screen. "Just IMing," she muttered.

"IMing who?" asked Buffy, as Rachel logged off, rising from Mr. Schuester's seat.

"Just a friend," she replied, "What are those cookies for?"

"Mr. Schuester," Buffy replied quietly.

"You skipped English just to IM a friend?" asked Finn.

Rachel sighed. "Okay, I have a confession to make," she smiled giddily, "I met someone."

Buffy raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Well, good. Good for you," she replied as Finn frowned beside her.

"What's his name?" asked Finn.

"Malcolm," smiled Rachel.

"What does he look like?" asked Buffy.

"I don't know," grinned Rachel.

Buffy and Finn glanced at each other, perplexed.

"So, you haven't met him?" asked Buffy.

"Don't you kind of have to meet someone to, like, have met someone?" asked Finn.

Rachel's smile faltered. "Well, I mean, I don't know what he looks like, but that's just a shallow detail. I know that he appreciates my talent. That he's good with words, and very polite-"

"Do you know his last name?" asked Finn.

Rachel frowned. "Why can't you guys just be happy for me?" she asked.

"We are!" said Buffy, "We just, we want to make sure this Malcolm guy is good enough for you."

Rachel smiled. "That's sweet, Buffy, but I can take care of myself."

"We just don't want to see you getting too serious too soon with a guy you've never even met."

"Buffy, I won't! I'm mature enough to handle this, thank you," said Rachel, and slung her satchel over her shoulder.

"Right," said Finn, pursing his lips, "Well, Rachel I wanted to ask you if you'd help me rehearse tonight. One on one, in the auditorium. After school."

Rachel smiled and sighed. "I can't. I promised Malcolm I'd be online tonight. But maybe Quinn can help you!" she exclaimed and strutted out of the office.

"What just happened?" mumbled Finn as Rachel strutted down the hall.

"I'll go talk to her," said Buffy, keeping her plate of cookies tucked tightly under her arm.

Buffy followed Rachel out into the busy school hallway. "Rachel, wait," she called, and Rachel whirled around in her penny loafers to face her.

"Buffy, what is it?" asked Rachel.

"Don't you think you're acting a little weird?" asked Buffy, cocking her head to the side.

"No, I don't," Rachel shook her head, confused.

"Well, it's just, yesterday you would've jumped at the chance to have any time alone with Finn, and now you're blowing him off to talk to some guy you've never met."

"I am not blowing Finn off! I made plans with Malcolm, and I'm not going to back out."

"I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt, Buffy," Rachel huffed, annoyed, "Finn is in a relationship, with a baby on the way, no less. But Malcolm likes me. He makes me feel good about myself. Finn just confuses me."

"You don't even know if Malcolm is really Malcolm. He could be anyone, Rachel."

Rachel rolled her dark brown eyes. "Weren't you the one who told me that my crush on Finn was pointless, and that a relationship between us was unlikely? He doesn't like me, Buffy. Malcolm likes me!"

"Rachel-"

"I don't have time for this. I have to organize a ballad with Puckerman for our last assignment before we start rehearsing for Sectionals."

"I just think you're in over your head."

"I'm not the one baking cookies for a guy I can never have," scowled Rachel.

Buffy's mouth fell open as Rachel stormed off down the hallway and disappeared around the corner. People brushed against her shoulders as they pushed past her in the hall, making the cookies wobble in her hands. She wandered into the bathroom and rested her cookies on the marble sink counter, and looked into the mirror. She'd let her hair down today and tinted her lips with a peachy gloss. She thought it might impress Mr. Schuester, looking more sophisticated than most of her classmates. But now she only felt embarrassed for considering it.

Rachel was completely right. Not only was Mr. Schuester her teacher, but he was her watcher, and for their relationship to ever become something romantic... it was inappropriate, and unrealistic. Buffy ducked her head in embarrassment at the thought that a relationship like that could ever work out. Even though she knew she shouldn't, a small flame of hope still flickered. She couldn't help liking Mr. Schuester. She couldn't make those feelings go away. She knew she couldn't be with him now, but maybe someday...

Buffy shook and stood up straight as she heard the girls' room door swing open and closed as a meek looking girl in a tomato-soup colored turtleneck and clear J. Crew glasses walked in, her mousy brown hair held up with a bandana printed with chili peppers.

"She's right, you know," the girl said quietly, her hands clasped together at her lap and her head ducked down.

"What?" asked Buffy, looking at her through the mirror.

"I know what this leads to, Buffy," she explained, peering up at her from behind her thick spectacles, "You see, I used to be in love with Mr. Schuester, too."

"How do you know I-"

"You have to end this silly crush, Buffy. It'll only break your heart."

Buffy's mouth hung open as she turned to face the girl. "Who are you?"

"Suzy. Suzy Pepper."

"Oh... Okay, Suzy. Thank you..." trailed off Buffy, stunned.

xxx

Buffy breathed in deep and braced herself for the oncoming embarrassment as she entered the choir room, polished fingernails still gripping the sides of the saran wrapped plate of cinnamon cookies.

"Mr. Schuester?" she called, causing her lanky watcher to look up from his music sheets on the top of Brad's piano.

Will took one look at the cookies in her hands, and dropped his music sheets, the papers sprawled on the linoleum tiled floor.

"Oh no. No, no, no! Buffy, you have got to stop this!" he cried.

"Will-"

"No, don't 'Will' me, this is going too far. You came to my home, Buffy. Do you know how inappropriate that is? And now cookies?"

"Mr. Sch-"

"Just stop! I need you to stop, because I don't have time for whatever this is. I have to figure out these sheets for Sectionals, and I need to train our new member. Without you giving me googly eyes!"

"Listen-"

"You listen, okay? You're a sweet girl, Buffy. You're funny, and you're charming, and you have really great hair... But that's beside the point! I am your teacher. You are my student. I'm an adult, you're a child-"

"I know!" cried Buffy, her fingers trembling around her plate of cookies, "I just came to say I'm sorry."

"You... What?" asked Mr. Schuester, his expression softening.

"I'm sorry," said Buffy, resting the plate on the closed grand piano, "I know how stupid I've been acting. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Mr. Schuester sighed and leaned against the piano, his glassy eyes trailing along the contours of Buffy's face.

"It's okay, Buffy."

Buffy shook her head, stiff blond waves of her hair swaying. "It was idiotic. And I'm really embarrassed. It's just... It's really hard, having this huge, dangerous birth rite when all you want is a boyfriend. You can never really have an honest relationship with a person when you have this big secret of eternal impending doom. It sucks. The sad thing is I really thought there was a chance you could like me back."

Mr. Schuester looked down and frowned sympathetically.

"Buffy, I don't have a doubt in my mind that someday, you'll find someone who will accept you for who you are, and you'll be able to have an honest relationship with them."

Buffy nodded, unconvinced. "I didn't even bake these cookies. My mom made them because I told her we were having a bake sale to raise money for glee club. I don't even know how to turn on the oven."

Mr. Schuester smirked. "It's the thought that counts."

"So, getting us ready for Sectionals?"

"They're coming up soon," Mr. Schuester nodded.

"Who's our new twelfth member?" asked Buffy.

"Piper Saberhagen. Do you know her?"

Buffy shook her head, stumped.

"I'm guessing she's a friend of Quinn's," said Mr. Schuester, kneeling down to pick up his music sheets.

"A Cheerio? But didn't Quinn and Brittany quit the team? Or get kicked off?"

"They did, but I guess Piper followed suit and dropped cheerleading for glee club."

"Well, there's already something wrong with that."

xxx

Piper Saberhagen straightened a miniature mirror that hung inside the door of her locker. She peered at herself through it and straightened her auburn ponytail. She hadn't been blessed with stunning features like most of the Cheerios. In fact, she was a bit of a Plain Jane. The only thing that made her look a little bit interesting was the fact that she glossed her lips like Quinn Fabray and lined her eyes like Quinn Fabray. She used to cheer with the Cheerios, with Quinn Fabray, but she was always one of the sturdy girls at the bottom of the pyramid, and Quinn was always, always on top. Piper used to ponder dying her hair honey blond like Quinn Fabray, but since Quinn left Cheerios and dyed her hair brown, Piper had opted for the natural look, trading her Cheerios uniform in for babydoll dresses.

She slammed her locker door closed as she spotted Quinn Fabray approaching down the hall with that dolt, Brittany Pierce.

"Hi, Quinn!" she exclaimed, smiling widely to show off her veneers, and walking alongside the two girls, "Oh, look, we're matching!"

Quinn looked down at her Juicy Couture dress - rose dust cotton, cinched at the waist and embroidered in small white polka dots - and back up at Piper's baby pink and white striped babydoll shirt. Something she probably picked up at Target.

"Right," Quinn smiled, reminding herself not to be as snobby as she usually was.

Now that her parents had kicked her out and she was living with Finn's mom, she'd probably have to start shopping at department stores, too.

"You wear it better, though," Piper gushed, her tight reddish brown ponytail bopping up and down cheerfully.

"Thanks," said Quinn, "I actually have to go find someone-"

"Who are you looking for?" asked Piper, dropping her head to the side and widening her murky hazel eyes in curiosity.

"Rachel Berry. She's in charge of the choreography for our glee club, and I wanted to run it by her again-"

"Oh!" exclaimed Piper, clapping her hands together like a seal, "I was going to go to Rachel, too. I just joined glee club! Isn't that cool?"

"You just joined glee club...?" asked Quinn, her mouth hanging open.

Piper Saberhagen had followed Quinn around like a puppy since the eighth grade. If Quinn did anything, you could bet that Piper would be doing it, too. Not that anyone noticed Piper. Some people just didn't have that spark. Instead of getting on the Cheerios due to her coolness, like Quinn, Piper got in because of actual gymnastic talent. That was rare.

"That's like social suicide," Quinn shook her head.

"I know! But I don't care. I just want to express myself, like you. You're so artistic. I think that's really cool."

What Quinn couldn't understand was why Piper still wanted to be just like her, when she was basically a pariah in the eyes of the rest of her schoolmates.

"That's... That's nice, Piper," said Quinn, trailing off as Rachel Berry's determined stride caught her eye as she turned the corner.

"Rachel!" Quinn called, making the girl stop in her tracks.

"Quinn," she repeated, folding her arms and eyeing the three girls as they approached her, "Can I help you?"

"We were going to rehearse, remember? But you weren't in class last period-"

"Right!" said Rachel, closing her eyes and nodding her head a moment, "I was busy."

"Busy with what?" asked Quinn, resting her hands on her hips.

Rachel shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Right. Well, should we rehearse now? I need to get the moves down with minimal exertion."

"Because of the baby. Of course," replied Rachel, "Maybe we can practice tomorrow. I'm actually kind of caught up with something."

"With what?" asked Quinn, frowning and furrowing her brow.

"Nothing!" Rachel said defensively, and strutted away.

"What is wrong with her?" Quinn asked aloud, watching Rachel stride down the hall and disappear into a horde of students.

"I know, that Rachel Berry, she's so not cool. Not that being cool is everything. By the way, I think you getting pregnant is just, totally cool. You'd be an amazing mom," Piper said quickly.

Quinn closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head. "Do me a favor, Piper. Use protection," she said, as Piper nodded adamantly.

xxx

Rachel sprinted to Mr. Schuester's desk chair and plopped in, not letting her hands stay idle for a moment as she opened up Skype to check if Malcolm was online. He was.

FannyBrice13: I'm back! Sorry!

Moloch7: It's perfectly fine. I wouldn't want you to get a bladder infection on my watch.

FannyBrice13: It might be hard to fit in time to talk to you for a while.

Moloch7: Why?

FannyBrice13: I'm just really busy. Sectionals for my glee club, and I still have to sing my ballad with Noah.

Moloch7: Who's Noah? Someone I should worry about?

FannyBrice13: Oh, no, he's just some jock in my glee club. You have nothing to worry about concerning him.

Moloch7: Good. Now, what's the real reason we can't talk as often?

FannyBrice13: Excuse me?

Moloch13: Rachel, you're never not busy. You're an ambitious woman. You always have something to do. Why are you suddenly so swamped that you can't take the time out to talk?

FannyBrice13: It's complicated.

Moloch7: Is it your friends?

FannyBrice13: Maybe. They keep nagging me about you.

Moloch7: Ignore them.

FannyBrice13: They just keep telling me that it's not a good idea to get into a serious relationship with someone I've never met. Do you think they're right?

Moloch7: Not at all! People will continue to think that meeting a person physically is more personable, but they'd be wrong. You and I talk for hours, sharing thoughts and ideas. This kind of interaction is hard to achieve face to face.

Rachel understood that. How many times had she taken the seat next to Finn and used an ice breaker, only to have the conversation cut short? She wished she could talk to him like she talked to Malcolm. She wished Finn would be as open with his thoughts and feelings as Malcolm was.

Moloch7: I think we should meet.

Rachel let her fingers hover just above the letter keys, unsure how to answer. She would've thought she'd be eager to finally meet someone she was so interested in, but thinking about Finn had her hesitant. She and Malcolm had a common bond of music and literature. They could talk for hours about their favorite plays and artists. But she and Finn had an unspoken connection; something completely chemical. Something she couldn't make sense of with her mind, but felt perfectly right to her heart.

FannyBrice13: I don't know.

Moloch7: Why not? You do like me, don't you?

FannyBrice13: I do! You're a great friend.

Moloch7: Friend? Perhaps I'm mistaken, Rachel, but I thought we were more than that. No?

FannyBrice13: Maybe! I don't really know. It's complicated.

Moloch7: What makes it complicated?

FannyBrice13: There's someone else. Someone I have feelings for. It would never work between us, for several reasons, but it's still something I have to deal with. Do you understand?

Rachel watched in frightened anticipation as Malcolm took an unusual amount of time to reply.

Moloch7: Don't tell me it's that Noah Puckerman? He's not good enough for you, Rachel! Maybe you're attracted to the bad boy stereotype, but it's only going to end up hurting you. You can't trust him, Rachel.

FannyBrice13: No, you've misunderstood.

Moloch7: I haven't misunderstood anything, Rachel. Noah Puckerman is a bad guy. He's the father of Quinn Fabray's child, not Finn Hudson. Do you really want to commit to a guy who slept with his best friend's girlfriend?

Rachel stared at the screen with her mouth hanging open, blinking several times, waiting for the words to make sense. She was shocked by the sudden revelation, but also by how much Malcolm knew.

FannyBrice: How did you know that? In fact, how do you even know my friends names?

Rachel felt a chill as Malcolm suddenly went offline. She looked around her in Mr. Schuester's small office, as if someone would be creeping around the glass walls, peeking in at her, but no one was. She watched as students milled past, unaware, when she had a frightening thought. Malcolm could be any of them. Malcolm could be anyone.

xxx

Buffy looked at the thin silver watch her father bought her for her fourteenth birthday. They had at least forty minutes left.

Buffy stared out of the window of the green room. They were at the Lima Holiday Inn, where the Sectionals were held. It was starting to get really chilly in Ohio this time of year as winter reared its frosty head, but inside of the toasty hotel, Buffy slipped off her furry hooded leopard print coat to reveal a silky black dress that stopped at the knee, a chunky red ribbon wrapped around the waist and a tight bodice. Outside the window, Buffy watched people exiting their cars and entering the hotel, their breath visible in the frosty air.

New Directions had prepared three songs, all going by the Sectionals theme of a ballad. They'd spent the past week getting ready. A stellar performance of Don't Rain On My Parade by the club's co-captain, Rachel Berry, followed by a Finn-heavy 80's power ballad, You Can't Always Get What You Want, and a group rendition of Queen's Somebody To Love, easy on the choreography, due to Quinn's pregnancy and Finn's co-ordination problems.

Buffy wrung her hands together, and breathed unevenly, the sound of her heart beats filling her ears. She thought she'd worked through her problems with stage fright during Push It earlier in the school year, but she was wrong. The thought of standing, let alone singing and dancing, in front of hundreds of people, including judges, made her wanted to run out into the chilly parking lot and hop into the first unlocked car she could find. She started to feel sick. She looked over at her friend, Rachel Berry, who was resting with her feet up on one of the couches, gargling a bottle of salt water.

Rachel never seemed to have the same problem. It was obvious to everyone that Rachel belonged on stage. She had what it took to shine, and be confident in her own stunning talent. It was a fact that no one wanted to remind her, for fear that her ego would grow even larger. Rachel heard her cell phone buzzing in a pocket of her purse. She reached inside and saw a text from an unfamiliar number, and furrowed her brow as she answered it.

'Rachel, its Malcolm. You probably won't see me, but I'm sitting in the crowd at your show choir competition. I think it's finally time we met'.

Rachel's stomach dropped. She started to feel uneasy whenever she thought about Malcolm.

'I don't think that's a good idea, Malcolm' she replied.

'Rachel, you mean a lot to me. You may not realize it, but I mean a lot to you, too. I don't want you to end up alone.'

Rachel wrinkled her nose. 'Thank you for your concern, Malcolm, but choosing not to be with you doesn't guarantee that I will end up alone,' she texted.

'Please, Rachel! I love you!'

Rachel shook her head and held down the power button on her cell phone until it turned off. She was done with Malcolm, but he'd left her feeling nervous, and that wasn't a good way to feel before a performance.

"Mr. Schuester, do you mind if I head to the cafe around the corner to get some tea. I'm a little nervous," she admitted, standing before her teacher who looked up from his complimentary magazine.

"Sure, Rachel," he said, and ducked his head back down as she left through the door.

xxx

At McKinley High, April Rhodes sifted through the piles of books left in the back of Will Schuester's office, attempting to find one in particular. A Wiccan cookbook she'd left behind, for cheesecake with a spark. Most of the volumes had a layer of dust wiped off the top, as if somebody had already been sorting through them. April smiled triumphantly as she found her lost cookbook, only to have something catch her eye. A book with a mock wooden cover and strangely familiar etchings carved into the front. April turned the thick pages, only to find every one of them was blank.

"Oh, no," she said to herself, "This is not good."

Back at the Holiday Inn, Mr. Schuester felt his phone vibrating against his thigh. He fished it out of the pocket of his jeans and answered.

"Hello?"

"Will? It's April!" she replied on the other line, sounding frantic.

"April, is something wrong?" Will asked, his voice hushed as he moved from his seat to outside the door of the green room. He didn't want to make the kids more nervous than they already were.

"Something is very wrong, Will!" her shrill voice boomed through the speaker in his cell phone as people passed him in the hallway.

"What happened?"

"You have in your possession what my Wiccan coach used to call, the book of Moloch."

"What's that?"

"It's this ancient book that these monks used to trap a demon in. His soul would remain on the pages forever."

"And?"

"And he's gone, Will! The pages are empty!"

"Uh. Okay. What do we do?"

"I don't know, Will. I don't know where he is. Did you or anyone else read the book aloud?"

"Not that I'm aware of. They just scanned the books into the computer-"

"The computer? Oh my Lord."

Back in the school, April sat herself at Will's computer chair and flipped the switch, tapping her foot against the desk as she waited for it to turn on.

"Just as I thought," Will heard her say on the other line.

"April, what?" he asked.

"Moloch was converted from his essence to your computer, Will. He has a file on it!"

"Well, can't you just delete the file?"

April attempted to drag the file entitled 'Moloch' to the trash can, but the screen went blank, and April gasped sharply when the face of an ancient demon filled the screen, his skin gnarled and rotting and his teeth sharp, gnashing together. The demons horrifying black eyes stared straight at April, and with a low voice, he growled, 'Leave Rachel alone!' and disappeared, leaving the computer screen blank.

xxx

Rachel stomped in her red heels out of the Holiday Inn, and sighed as she spotted a Starbucks around the corner. She couldn't wait to wrap her hands around a chai tea. They always calmed her down when she was stressed or nervous. Not only was she anxious because of Malcolm, but she was still reeling from the bomb of information he'd dropped on her when they'd last talked. She'd spend her time in class biting the inside of her cheek and wondering if it was true. Was Noah Puckerman the father of Quinn Fabray's baby? She wondered if there was any way she could know for sure. If Finn was being lied to, used and manipulated, didn't Rachel have the responsibility to tell him?

Rachel mused how she would break the news to him, when she was suddenly tugged back the shoulders. Before a scream could escape her mouth, a cloth covered it, forcing heavy fumes into her throat and nose, until her vision went black and she slumped forward.

Rachel blinked her eyes, and instead of the frosty morning and the distant Starbucks, she lied on her achy back, her eyes searching through the dimness. The curtains were drawn. As she propped herself up on her elbows, it seemed that she was in an empty office space. She spotted familiar stationary sprawled on a desk. She was still in the hotel! Clutching her head dizzily, she got up on her feet, realizing she wasn't alone. A machine - no, a demon - stood guard at the door, at least seven feet tall, it's broad build made completely of metal and loose wires.

Rachel whimpered, and cowered backwards, jumping as her back bumped against the wall.

"Wh-Who are you?" she stammered.

"I am Moloch," he answered, his voice deep and robotic.

Rachel quivered against the wall, unsure how to proceed. Now was usually the time when Buffy would arrive and save the day, but as Moloch, the robotic demon, towered over her, she was starting to think that maybe she wasn't coming.

"What do you want?" she whimpered.

"For centuries, my essence was entrapped onto parchment, but you have set me free," he growled, staring down at her and holding out his large, rusted hand, "Take Moloch's hand, and you shall be his bride and together we shall concur this land."

Rachel cowered against the wall as he leaned in, his metal arm outstretched.

"No thanks..." Rachel murmured.

"No... thanks...?" Moloch repeated, "I am the one you call Malcolm. Moloch shall court you, and you shall be his bride."

Rachel bit her bottom lip, sheepishly.

"Oh. Right. That makes sense. Well, um, Malcolm. Or Moloch... I would like to politely decline."

Moloch stood up straight, his hand falling back to his side. "I don't understand."

"It's just not a good time for me. Besides, there's someone else-"

"There's is no one else!" Moloch's voice boomed, as he reached out, his hard metal claw clamping over Rachel's waist and lifted her from the ground.

"If you do not wish to be Moloch's bride, I shall grind you into dust," he threatened as Rachel struggled to breathe, trying to grasp at his hand as her feet dangled above the ground.

"Grind this!"

Relief fell over Rachel's body as she heard the familiar sassy tone of her best friend, Buffy Summers. Buffy burst through the door, in her heels and cocktail dress, and rammed into Moloch. He wobbled forward, and lost hold of Rachel, who fell to the floor.

"What does that mean?" asked Mr. Schuester, following closely behind as Moloch turned slowly to face them.

"I don't know," Buffy shrugged, and leaped over to Moloch in her high heels, landing a hard blow right in his abdomen.

Unfortunately, it was only hard for her. She gasped and clutched her fist, which pulsed in pain. She looked up, a little fearful, as Moloch gave a low growl, and swatted at her with the back of his hard metal hand, like she was a fly. She went flying into the wall, making an audible thud.

"Buffy!" cried Will, and rushed to her side, kneeling and wrapping an arm around her shoulder to lift her up.

Rachel reached for a fire extinguisher behind on of the desks, and rammed it into Moloch's back, making a visible dent. Proud of herself, she was a little less scared than she should have been when he whirled around, his eyes glowing an artificial red. She swung the fire extinguisher again and dented his chest, making him stumble back, before growling angrily and grabbing the fire extinguisher right out her hands. Her arms still poised to swing something at him, Rachel looked up, eyes wide in fear, as he clenched his fist, ready to come down on her frail bones.

Buffy shook off Mr. Schuester's protective hands and reached at the wires on Moloch's back, tugging them out. Sparks flew dangerously in her face as she tugged at his loose wires, trying to distract him from hurting Rachel. If Buffy went reeling from one punch, Rachel would surely be doomed. Moloch stumbled back because of Buffy's tugging, and turned to her.

"Who do you think you are, you puny children, to battle Moloch," he boomed, before clenching his fist and throwing punch at Buffy, who ducked at the right moment, so instead of in her face, Moloch's heavy fist landed right into an electrical power line in the wall.

Buffy covered her head and stayed close to the floor as Moloch started to convulse, sparks flying until they died down, and he collapsed on the backroom floor, his body motionless and smoking.

"I really hate guys who refer to themselves in the third person," sighed Buffy, staring at his steaming robotic corpse.

Buffy stood back up, holding her sore fist as Mr. Schuester offered Rachel his hand, helping her off of the ground.

"Internet dating almost never works," said Buffy, making Rachel sheepishly stare at her hands.

"I guess I had to learn the hard way," sighed Rachel.

Mr. Schuester put a sympathetic hand on Rachel's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rachel. If you just want to go home and rest, we can pull out of the competition. I'm sure you must be really scared-"

"Pull out of the competition?" Rachel gasped, her head snapping up and her brown eyes wide in shock, "Why in the world would we do that? Mr. Schuester, we can't just give up our responsibilities every time an obstacle comes around the corner! The show must go on!"

And with that, Rachel Berry hitched up her dress and stomped right over the robot monster that just tried to kill her and right out of the door.

"She's got a couple screws loose, huh?" asked Buffy, as they watched her strut down the hall.


	11. The Dummy

**Chapter 11**

**The Dummy**

_Dear Diary,_

_Winter is a lot different in Ohio than it is in L.A. I mean, as I speak, flakes of snow are falling on this page, which is a little annoying, but what can I do? I promised Mr. Schuester I'd patrol every night. Which is like, child cruelty or endangerment or something, because I'm convinced I'm going to get frostbite. I mean, I'm freezing out here every night when he's probably chugging back nog and roasting chestnuts on a fire with that redhead girlfriend of his. I mean, Ms. Pillsbury isn't his girlfriend. Yet. But sooner or later he'll snatch that up. I hear office Christmas parties are quite the romantic scene, what with mulled wine and mistletoe and all._

_Everyone has their houses decorated so brightly in Lima. Except Rachel's house. Even though her and her dads are Jewish, my mom invited them to Christmas dinner. The dinner part was really awkward. My mom kept trying to push how PC she is down their throats. However, the part where the grown-ups sat around with cider in the dining room and me and Rachel got to sit around eating chocolate and watching It's A Wonderful Life? Considerably better._

_So much had happened by the time we'd started winter break. Of course, there was winning Sectionals, but that wasn't even one of the big ones. Kurt came out to his father, which we're all really proud of him for. That, and Rachel dropped the bomb on me that Puck is really the father of Quinn's baby, and not Finn. This whole town is becoming like a soap opera. A bloody, mystical soap opera._

_And yet the only thing on my mind - besides slaying and Mr. Schuester, not that Mr. Schuester is on my mind a lot, I so don't have a crush on him anymore... Where was I? Oh, yeah. The only thing on my mind anymore is Santana. I haven't seen her since-_

Buffy's journal spun out of her hand, along with her pen when a vampire smacked it out with his cold, clammy hands.

"Have your dear diary moment another time," the vampire growled, snarling down at her from where she stooped at the edge of an angel statue.

"You're gonna regret that," said Buffy, sliding Mr. Pointy out of her sleeve.

Another day, another slay. Normally the vamps didn't come out much during winter, due to the lack of scantily clad people milling about in dark alleys and the brightness of the decorated houses lining the streets, but every once in a while Buffy would stumble upon a newly born vamp who crawled fresh out of the grave looking for blood. Instead, they got dust.

Buffy plunged her stake into the vamp's chest, and watched as he burst into pieces, and fell on fresh white snow.

"Santana," she breathed, as she watched the familiar girl trudge through the snow, approaching in the distance in a quilted puff jacket.

"Slayer," smiled Santana, a bulky book under her arm, "It's good to see you."

"Where are you going?" asked Buffy, sliding her stake back into her sleeve.

"Butcher's. Gotta get something for me, and bacon for Quinn."

"Quinn? Quinn Fabray?"

"Uh, yeah, she's staying with me-"

"Quinn Fabray is staying with you? For how lo-... No, I'm sorry. It's none of my business," Buffy trailed off.

Santana shifted the book in her hands and frowned awkwardly. "Sorry, Slayer."

"For what?"

"You know what. You keep me a secret for so long and you don't even know what secret you're keeping."

"Yeah. It kind of sucks."

"Especially now that Quinn knows?"

"Especially now that Quinn knows! I mean, she's just some cheerleader. I'm the slayer! If there's something to know, shouldn't I know?"

"Buffy, you don't know _because_ you're the slayer."

"Wha-... Why? Are you evil or something? Are you doing something bad?"

"No, not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"Buffy, slayers aren't exactly known for rationalizing and counting shades of gray. I'm not hurting anyone. That's all you need to know."

Buffy folded her arms and frowned in disappointment. "Fine," she grumbled.

"Don't have a tantrum, Slayer," Santana smirked, and held out the book in front of her, "I brought this for you."

"What is it?" asked Buffy, peering down at the dusty cover.

"My parents left it behind-"

"When they died or when they moved away?"

"...Okay, I shouldn't have told you they died."

"You think? Who says that?"

"It doesn't matter, okay? They're dead to me. So just... Here, take it," said Santana, shoving the book into Buffy's arms.

"What is it for?" asked Buffy, staring at the blank, leather bound cover.

"It's a book of prophecies. My parents left it behind when they moved away. They called it the Pergamum Codex."

"What do I use it for?"

"I don't know. Getting the heads up for apocalypses and stuff."

"Right. Okay. Thanks. I'll give it to Tina."

"Tina...?"

"She's kind of the brains of our operation."

"You have a whole operation...?"

"Well... There's me and my watcher, Mr. Schuester, and then there's Quinn, obviously, because I had to stop her from hurting people with her witchcraft... And there's Rachel Berry. I mean, she's really helpful and she wouldn't tell anyone. And there's Mercedes, because I saved her from vampires once, and Kurt Hummel because he sort of, came along... And then they convinced me to tell Artie, because he's good with technology. And then Tina knows, which is actually a good thing because she's really smart. Oh, and there's Mr. Schuester's friend April..."

"Jesus, Slayer, you're not much of a secret keeper."

"No, I am! They're the only ones who know! Well, there's also Finn-"

"Wow. I mean, the only people who know about me are Quinn and Brittany."

"Brittany? As in Brittany Airhead Pierce?"

"Don't talk about her like that!" snapped Santana.

Buffy's mouth fell open. "Is that who I remind you of? Brittany Pierce? You're in love with Brittany Pierce?"

Santana's eyes shifted around the graveyard, as if the corpses would be eavesdropping for gossip.

"Yes, okay? What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is..." Buffy trailed off, "I don't know. I never would have pictured you two together. If she can handle whatever big secret you have, why can't I?"

"Buffy-"

"And why do I remind you of her? She's so easily confused-"

"I don't know, Buffy. You're blond and cute. That's really the only resemblance."

Buffy began to blush, but then shook her head, annoyed. "Whatever secret you're keeping... Are you not telling me because you think I might do something?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"But you said you're not hurting anyone. So why would I care?"

Santana shrugged. "You'll care, Slayer. I'm sure of it," sighed Santana, and brushed past Buffy.

"So that's it? You're just leaving now?" asked Buffy.

"I have to get to the butcher's before it closes," she called over her shoulder and disappeared into the darkness.

xxx

As Winter faded, McKinley High became bustling with noise and movement as the students flooded back for their next semester of high school. Buffy shook wet slush from the parking lot off of her patent leather boots. Lima Winters didn't agree with her. Sure, sitting inside with some apple cider, watching the snow falling from her window gave her a nice, warm feeling, but actually trudging through the cold was less than convenient. However displeased she felt, though, she wasn't immune to the infectious optimism radiating from Rachel Berry.

"Hey, Rachel," greeted Buffy, as she picked up her pace and caught up to the smiling girl in a J. Crew cardigan, "Lookin' good."

"Feeling good, Buffy! We're already on the road to stardom. Or, more accurately, popularity, ever since we won Sectionals."

"We're glitterati," said Kurt, appearing on Rachel's other side in a black trench, "I feel like Lady Gaga."

"Get used to it," replied Rachel, "We're stars now. Par with all the jocks and popular kids! It's a dawn of a new era, and we are gonna rule this school!"

Rachel, Kurt and Buffy stopped short when the hard hit of freezing ice and irritating dye smacked their faces.

Dave Karofsky and Azimio Adams high fived each other and brushed past the dripping wet glee clubbers, chuckling darkly.

"Welcome to Loser Town," laughed Karofsky, "Population: You!"

xxx

Will Schuester leaned back into a polyester seat of the school auditorium, watching Piper Saberhagen sing on off-key version of Say A Little Prayer. He made a note to self to keep her in the backing choir, when a glimpse of whispy red hair caught his eye.

"Emma," he breathed, smiling crookedly, and standing up to greet her, "How have you been?"

Emma blushed and looked at her ring-clad hands. "I'm fine, Will."

Things had been a little awkward since they kissed at the faculty Christmas party. They weren't sure if they could blame it on the mulled wine, or their feelings. The real difficulty was figuring out what their relationship was now. Neither of them wanted to bring it up for fear of looking needy.

"So, you're in charge of the school talent show," commented Emma.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Figgins put me in charge."

Emma nodded awkwardly and winced at Piper's singing. "Well... good luck."

"Oh! Look! Kids!" announced Will, as Buffy, Rachel and Kurt trotted down the auditorium looking irritated.

"Hi, kids!" greeted Ms. Pillsbury, loudly.

"Uh, hi," replied Buffy, her eyes shifting between the two teachers, "What's up?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Ms. Pillsbury.

"Okay..."

"I'm in charge of the school talent show," nodded Mr. Schuester.

"Why didn't anyone inform me of a school talent show?" demanded Rachel.

Buffy chuckled, amused. "Who made you do that?" she asked, as Ms. Pillsbury slipped away discretely.

"Principal Figgins," he said, watching Emma disappear through the auditorium door, "For funding glee club."

"But I thought winning Sectionals would give us enough funding," said Kurt.

"Figgins won't keep funding glee club unless we place at Regionals," frowned Mr. Schuester.

"Well, Will, into every generation one is born who must run the annual talentless show," smiled Buffy teasingly, "You cannot escape your destiny."

"Well, as fate would have it, neither can you," smirked Mr. Schuester.

"What do you mean?" asked Buffy, her smile disappearing.

"I mean, glee club will have to participate in the talent show," he said, as Buffy groaned and Rachel clapped her hands together in excitement.

Buffy grimaced and fell into a polyester seat.

"It won't be so bad," said Mr. Schuester, sitting down beside her as Kurt and Rachel followed suit, "I put together a group performance of Hello Goodbye by the Beatles."

"Blech. Dummies," said Buffy, as a student came out with a wooden doll and took to centre stage.

"I think dummies are cute," said Rachel, "You don't?"

"No, the give me the wig. Ever since I was little," said Buffy, shivering.

"What happened?" asked Kurt.

"I saw a dummy. It gave me the wig. There really wasn't a story there," said Buffy.

"Hi, I'm Morgan," said the guy with the dummy, "And I'm Sid."

He put on a high pitched voice for his dummy, but his lips were still moving all too visibly. Rachel and Mr. Schuester winced at the bad performance.

"Would you like to tell some jokes?" asked Morgan, as Sid, before putting on his regular voice again, "Would I?" he asked, "Yes, it is. It's also a wooden nose, and a wooden mouth," he said in his high pitched 'Sid' voice.

Buffy shook her head.

"Alright, time out, let's stop this before someone gets hurt," said the dummy, its voice now low and cynical, speaking without Morgan even moving his mouth a fraction.

"Come on, Sid. You're spoiling my act. I worked on these jokes for weeks," said Morgan, sounding sincerely aggravated.

"My jock shorts are made out of better material," grumbled the dummy, "And they're edible."

The kids stifled laughter, and Mr. Schuester smiled, pleased at the turn the act took.

xxx

"Quinn!" called Buffy, making the brunette's head snap in her direction.

"What, Summers?" Quinn grumbled, closing her locker door shut through the bustling school corridor, her stomach noticeably larger than when she'd last seen her before the winter break.

"I just, uh, wanted to catch up," said Buffy, rocking on the heels of her shoes.

"Catch up?" asked Quinn, raising a finely plucked eyebrow.

"Yeah, with uh, the gossip. So, that Santana Lopez, huh," muttered Buffy.

"What about her?" frowned Quinn.

"She's quite the mystery, right?"

"What do you know about Santana Lopez?" asked Quinn, looking suspicious.

"I know that you're living with her."

Quinn opened her mouth, and then closed it again, taken aback. "That's none of your business, is it?" asked Quinn, slinging her satchel over her shoulder and striding away.

"Quinn, wait!" Buffy said, easily keeping pace with the pregnant girl, "I know Santana has a secret."

"We all have secrets, Buffy," Quinn said over her shoulder as she rounded the corner.

Buffy stopped, and slumped her shoulders. Quinn wouldn't be easy to break. But she knew who would.

"Brittany!" she exclaimed, smiling widely.

Brittany Pierce stopped in her tracks and turned to Buffy, staring down at the short girl with a dopey look of curiosity.

"Hey, Britt," Buffy said, friendly.

"Hi, Buffy," said Brittany.

"So... Brittany. You're friends with Santana Lopez, right?" asked Buffy.

Brittany's curious smile faltered. "Yeah..."

"Well, I'm Santana's friend, too," smiled Buffy.

"Really?"

"Yuh huh. In fact, we tell each other everything. There's just this one thing she's kind of reluctant to tell me."

Brittany furrowed her brow in confusion. "What does reluctant mean? Is that like a tent that doesn't want to stay up?"

"What? No. Santana's nervous to tell me this secret she has and I thought, maybe if you knew the secret, you could tell me, and she wouldn't have to. You get me?"

Brittany bit down on her glossed bottom lip. "I don't think I should," she said, hugging the backpack that she was wearing backwards.

"Oh, you don't understand. Santana wants to me to know!"

"Santana doesn't want anybody to know. She told me," said Brittany, looking distant.

"But I'm different. I'm her friend. So just, tell me, Brittany..."

Brittany bit her lip and delved deep into thought. "Promise you won't make fun of her."

Buffy nodded her head adamantly. "I promise."

"Okay," Brittany sighed, "Santana is Lebanese."

Buffy held her breath a moment and peered at Brittany's pale blue eyes.

"Um... what?"

"Santana. She's Lebanese?"

"Wha-That's her secret? That she comes from Lebanon?"

"What? No. She's Lebanese. Like, she likes girls. What's a Lebanon?"

"...You mean, lesbian?"

"No, Lebanon. What is that? It sounds like a cross between a lemon or a banana or something and that sounds delicious-"

"No, Brittany, listen! You said Santana is Lebanese!"

"She is!"

"Don't you mean lesbian…?"

"Isn't that what I said?" she asked.

"Is that it? She's a lesbian? Are you sure there's not a different secret, Brittany?" asked Buffy, growing frustrated.

Brittany shrugged, becoming bored of the conversation. "No. I mean, she's a vampire," grumbled Brittany, pushing past the slack-jawed girl.

xxx

Rachel sifted through old records in the music section of Lima's public library, looking for Hello Goodbye, just as Mr. Schuester suggested for the Annual Spring School Talent Show. Unlike Buffy, she was enthusiastic about the idea of showcasing their talent to their school once again. Push It had been a success, why shouldn't Hello Goodbye be, too? As she searched through records starting with the word 'Hello', she came across an old Lionel Richie record. One of her dads' favourite songs that she'd grown up listening to. She peered through the love songs lyrics, until a hand gently pushed it down from behind, and a face emerged in front of her and stunned her for a moment. It was a boy. He only looked a little older than her, with dark brown hair, greenish eyes and a cocky smirk.

"Lionel Richie, huh?" he asked, "One of my favourites."

"Oh my God, you're Jesse St. James," breathed Rachel, recognizing the familiar face as the show runner of New Direction's rival show choir, "You're in Vocal Adrenaline."

"And you're Rachel Berry. I saw you perform at Sectionals. Your rendition of Don't Rain On My Parade was flawed. You totally lack Barbra's emotional depth," he said matter of factly.

Rachel furrowed her brow, stung.

"But you're talented," he added, snatching away the record and moving to the library's record player, sliding it in.

Rachel followed him, entranced.

"The library is one of my favorite haunts. I like to flip through the celebrity biographies. Pick up some lifestyle tips. I'm a senior now, so this year's kind of my victory lap. Snagging a fourth consecutive national championship would just be gravy. I'm leaving Ohio soon. I've got a full ride to a little school called the University of California, Los Angeles. Maybe you've heard of it? It's in Los Angeles."

Rachel nodded and smiled as he turned on the record player and dropped the needle, let the first few notes of the smooth piano play out.

"I've been alone with you inside my mind," he sang along with the record, staring into her eyes, "And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times. I sometimes see you pass outside my door. Hello, is it me you're looking for?"

"I can see it in your eyes," Rachel joined in, and they sang together, their stellar voices somehow working together like chocolate and caramel, "I can see it your smile. You're all I've ever wanted, and my arms are open wide. Cause you know just what to say, and you know just what to do, and I want to tell you so much, I love-"

Their singing was cut short as a shrill scream filled the library, and everyone, including Rachel and Jesse, turned their attention to the back room. Without a moment of pause, Jesse, as well as a few employees, fled to the door. Rachel followed quickly behind him, and as Jesse barely entered the threshold of the back room, he turned back around and held Rachel's shoulder back to shield her from the sight. But it was too late. She'd seen the bloodied dead girl on the floor of the back room, her eyes wide and lifeless and a grotesque hole in her chest where her heart had been torn out.

xxx

In the passenger's seat of Mr. Schuester's Honda, they rolled up to the Lima public library as close as they could with cop cars swarming the area.

"Oh, God," Buffy groaned.

It had sounded urgent when Rachel texted her about something going down at the library. But then again, Rachel made everything sound urgent.

"Are you okay?" asked Buffy as she sprinted to her friend. The girl was huddled on a wooden bench outside the library, police milling around murmuring into their walkie-talkies. "What happened?"

"The found a girl..." murmured Rachel, looking pale, her brown hair tucked behind her ears.

"She was a part-time employee," said Jesse.

Buffy looked over at the boy. She hadn't noticed him for a momenr, his arm slung around Rachel on the bench, his Richard Gere hairstyle wafting in the breeze.

"Emily Birch, the cops said her name was," continued Jesse.

"She went to our school," said Rachel, "She was going to be in the talent show."

"How did she...?" trailed off Buffy.

"Heart was cut out with a knife," said Jesse, matter of fact.

"A-A knife? Are you sure?" asked Buffy.

"Well, I'm sure an autopsy will figure out exactly what did it, but they know it was a sharp object. So I'm guessing knife," said Jesse.

"Right. Who are you?" asked Buffy.

"My apologies," he said, smirking coyly and standing up to offer his hand to Buffy, "My name is Jesse St. James. I'm in Vocal Adrenaline. I was just spending some quality time with Rachel when tragedy struck."

"Oh... kay," said Buffy, as she limply shook Jesse's hand.

"Do you know what did it?" asked Mr. Schuester, standing behind Buffy's shoulder.

"Garden variety deranged murderer, I'm guessing. The police will handle it," said Jesse.

"Right. Of course," murmured Mr. Schuester, as Jesse turned to throw a charming grin at Rachel.

"I'll leave you with your friends, Rachel. It's been nice meeting you," he smiled, and strolled away to a black SUV waiting in the parking lot.

"Who is he?" asked Buffy, falling into the bench beside Rachel.

"Jesse St. James. He's in Vocal Adrenaline-"

"Yeah, I heard the intro. But why are you hanging out with him? Are you guys dating?" asked Buffy, poking Rachel in the rib.

"No," she giggled, blushing profusely.

"I think we should look into this more," said Mr. Schuester, stifling the girls' giggles.

"Oh. Yeah. You're right," said Buffy, "But what if it is just a murder? Like Jesse said?"

"Well, that's even scarier than a vampire or a demon," shivered Rachel.

"Why?"

"Because! It could be anyone," said Rachel, "It could be me!"

Buffy smirked. "We'll see about that. You said Emily went to our school, right?"

"Yeah," nodded Rachel.

"We'll interview people about her tomorrow. We're sure to find at least a clue to find out why this happened to her," said Buffy, resting a hand on Rachel's shoulder.

"In the meantime, I'm going to go to Carmel High and try to find out more about this Jesse St. James guy," said Mr. Schuester.

"What? Why?" asked Rachel.

Mr. Schuester shrugged. "Just to check him out. He seemed awfully calm about the whole situation."

"He didn't do anything! He was by me the whole time!" Rachel said defensively.

"I'm not blaming him! It's just a routine follow up."

Rachel nodded. "What are you doing tonight?" she asked Buffy.

"...Running an errand."

xxx

Buffy wasn't lying. But she wasn't exactly sharing the truth. She stopped for a moment to feel guilty as she rapped on the front door of Santana Lopez's house. Maybe she should've told her friends. At least, Mr. Schuester. If what Brittany said was true, then maybe Santana was dangerous, despite having proven not to be.

She bit the inside of her cheek as the door swung open and Santana stood in the threshold in a striped green dress over her cross-stitch jeans.

"Buffy," she said gravely, her black hair falling over her shoulders and her maroonish eyes wide with innocence that no vampire could have.

"H-Hi," stammered Buffy, unprepared to confront Santana.

"Brittany told you," said Santana, her lips tight in a disappointed frown.

"How did you know?"

"She called me about it," said Santana, "Felt all guilty... Do you want to come in?"

Buffy hesitated and eyed the door frame.

"No? Not the vampire's den," muttered Santana.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" sighed Buffy.

"I don't owe you anything," she frowned.

"Stop saying that!" cried Buffy, becoming frustrated, "I shouldn't have to earn the truth. We should just be honest. Aren't we friends?"

Santana folded her arms over her chest and shrugged. "I don't think we can be."

"What does that mean?"

"It means... You're the slayer, Buffy. And I'm a vampire. You have certain duties, and those duties will most likely get in the way of our friendship."

"The slayer has a duty to stop all evil. But you... You're not evil. I can tell. If you wanted to hurt me, you've had plenty of chances to do it. But you don't. In fact, you help me. What kind of vampire is that?"

Santana sighed and shivered in the cold as the spring breeze blew in through the door. "A vampire with a soul."

"But how?" asked Buffy, pulling her sweater tighter around her.

"Come inside. You're getting cold," said Santana, holding the door open.

Buffy sidled in and peered around Santana's home. It was beautiful. Marble floors and mahogany staircase, though she could see the ghosts of family portraits that used to hang on the walls.

"Is that why your parents left?" asked Buffy, though she regretted asking as soon as it left her mouth.

"Yes," said Santana, and closed the door behind her.

"Even though you have a soul?" asked Buffy.

"They wouldn't listen. They think I'm a monster now."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They were just looking for a reason to get rid of me. Life would be so much easier without having to look after some teenage brat, huh?"

Buffy stared at the marble tiles, unsure how to reply. "Can you tell me how it all happened?"

"I can," Santana said after a moment, "As long as you don't tell anyone else."

"You know I won't," Buffy said softly.

xxx

For some kids, free period meant study hall, or extracurricular activities. For the scoobies, free period meant murder investigation. The murder in question; Emily Birch.

"I didn't know her too well. There's that whole dancer band rivalry, y'know?" said Dania Fields, her tuba propped up on her knee as she leaned against the choir room's door frame, the jazz band practicing inside.

"Right," replied Buffy, nodding, "I heard about that."

"But I did speak to her a little the day that... Yesterday."

"How did she seem?"

"She was happy... I guess," Mark Bolton confessed to Rachel as she interrogated him behind the gymnasium, where he hid from mischievous jocks who threatened him with slushie facials and atomic wedgies, "Here, pick a card."

"Um," Rachel murmured as Mark held a stack of cards in front of her face.

"She was a really good dancer," said Mark, "She was psyched to be doing the show."

Rachel nodded as she tried to slide out a card from the deck.

"Wait, wait, wait! Not that card. Pick this one," prompted Mark, poking one out at her.

Rachel sighed, and pulled out the card. "Do you remember the last time you saw her?"

"She was talking to someone," said Mark.

"Who?"

"That smart guy, the one with the dummy?" said Piper Saberhagen, scrunching up her face in concentration as Quinn leaned up against the wall of lockers, listening intently. "I forgot his name."

"Morgan?" asked Quinn.

"Yeah, that's it!" exclaimed Piper, "You're so smart."

"What were they talking about?" asked Quinn.

"Uh, I don't know. He was acting kind of strange."

"Strange how?"

"It's just such a tragedy for me!" exclaimed Morgan Ru, as Kurt rested on the bleachers of the auditorium, looking out at the Cheerios practicing for next week's pep rally, "Emma was like my best friend."

"Emily," corrected Kurt.

"Morgan is kind of strange. He's always rubbing his head a lot and moaning," continued Dania, her knee getting sore from the weight of the tuba, "Especially the other day."

"He seemed kind of paranoid," said Mark, talking down to Rachel, "Looking around at everyone."

"And I think I saw him arguing with his dummy!" exclaimed Piper.

"Weird. Well, thanks, Piper," said Quinn, waddling away with her hand on her bump.

"Wait! Don't you want to hang out?" called Piper as Quinn walked away.

"Not if my life depended on it," muttered Quinn.

"All I can think is, it could have been me!" exclaimed Morgan Ru.

"We can dream," sighed Kurt.

Buffy walked quietly through the empty auditorium, up to the stage where Morgan's dummy sat on a stool with his back to her.

"We have to be on the lookout," she heard the low grumble say, "Find out who's gonna be next."

"How are we supposed to-" Morgan started to say as he emerged from behind the curtains, and stopped short when he noticed Buffy, "Hi."

"Hello," replied Buffy, chilled.

"I was just working on throwing my voice," explained Morgan.

"Uh, Morgan, did you notice anything weird going on here, yesterday?" asked Buffy as Morgan picked up his dummy from the stool.

"Weird? What do you mean?" he asked, walking off stage with the dummy in his hands.

"Emily. Did you notice anything strange? Was she arguing with anyone?" asked Buffy.

"No. She was dancing. Sid and I were talking."

"Talking?"

"Rehearsing."

"So you didn't notice anything weird at-"

Buffy stopped with her mouth hung open as Morgan brought his hand to his temple and fell into a front row chair.

"Morgan, are you okay?" she asked.

"Look, sweetheart, he answered your question, now leave him alone!" came the low, grumbling voice again as the dummy moved its mouth, its glassy eyes staring at Buffy.

"Okay, Morgan, how about talking to me yourself now?" asked Buffy, annoyed, resting one hand on her hip.

"He said all he's gonna say," grumbled the dummy.

"It's okay, Sid. We're done," Morgan said in his regular voice, putting the dummy in its box.

"I'm sorry. Look, I didn't mean to make you mad," said Buffy sympathetically.

"No! I'm- It's him! He's..." Morgan trailed off, locking the lid of the dummy's box, "We have to go."

With the box in his hand, and walked out of the auditorium, stiff shouldered.

"Cute couple," Buffy sighed, chilled.

xxx

"Any luck with the dummy guy?" asked Finn, as they sat at their usual cafeteria table.

Quinn uneasily nibbled at carrot sticks as she sat with the scoobies. She wasn't a fan of the new seating arrangement. Because of her pregnancy and her alignment with glee clubbers, she became a social pariah in the eyes of the Cheerios. She had no choice but to slum it with the Lima losers.

Buffy shook her head. "I think I'm going to break into his locker after hours," she replied, as Rachel picked at her macaroni beside her.

"Good idea," Rachel said absently.

"What's up, daydreamer?" asked Buffy.

Rachel dropped her fork and shook her head, smiling tightly. "Just thinking."

"About a certain someone?" asked Buffy, wiggling her eyebrows knowingly as Rachel blushed.

"Who?" asked Finn, a little too forcibly, making Quinn frown.

"Who cares?" challenged his pregnant girlfriend.

"No, right, yeah," stammered Finn, "Just asking."

"Right," muttered Quinn.

"But seriously. Who?" asked Finn.

"Jesse St. James," blushed Rachel.

"Jesse St. James?" Kurt spluttered his milk out from the end of the table.

"Gross," frowned Quinn, throwing a quick glare at Kurt, and then Rachel.

"Lead singer of Vocal Adrenaline, Jesse St. James?" asked Kurt.

"Wait, you're dating some guy from Vocal Adrenaline?" asked Finn, frowning.

"We're not dating!" exclaimed Rachel, "I mean, we might start-"

"You can't date someone from Vocal Adrenaline!" Finn raised his voice.

"She can do whatever she wants, Finn!" Quinn snapped, and rose from the table, striding away through the busy cafeteria.

"Quinn, wait!" her hulking boyfriend called, following her out.

"Those two," said Kurt, shaking his head, and turning to Rachel, "So, Rachel, fraternizing the enemy now, are we?"

"Wha- Jesse is not the enemy!" Rachel stammered, "It's friendly rivalry, Kurt."

"If you say so. But it sounds like he's playing you," Kurt muttered, turning back to his Blackberry.

"What? No, he's not! He's not, right, Buffy?" asked Rachel, turning to her friend.

"W-Well-" stammered Buffy, "I mean, you know him better than I do. It's your call, I guess."

"Yes, it is my call," nodded Rachel, "Jesse is an honest gentleman. Right? Right?!"

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetie," Kurt muttered.

Few people passed Quinn as she thundered through the hallway, before Finn gripped her arm and pulled her around.

"Ow!" she faked.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Quinn, what's going on?"

"I don't know, Finn, what is going on? Other than your eyes turning into bulging cartoon love hearts whenever you look at Treasure Trail!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it, Finn? You're always after the girl next door, and she's it, isn't she? Only more. She has those stupid gold stars that give her the delusion that she's something special... And maybe she is. Maybe it's not a delusion at all. Maybe she will make it out of this town and be a star. And that's what you like about her. I'm vanilla ice cream, but she's... rocky road. Or something with... layers," said Quinn, losing control of her analogy as tears clouded her vision and stung her eyes.

"I don't even know what you're talking about anymore," Finn shook his head, "I mean, first we're talking about Rachel, and then we're talking about ice cream-"

"I know you kissed her, Finn," said Quinn, blinking back tears of frustration.

Finn's mouth hung open a moment, uncertain. "Quinn-"

"I don't care, Finn. I don't. If you want her... You can have her."

"I don't want her. I want you!"

"Now that's ridiculous. She's beautiful, Finn. I mean, I know we all say her Jew nose and her flat chest make her look like a tranny, but, once you get to know her... If you choose to see it... She's kind of beautiful."

"You're more beautiful," said Finn.

"You don't want me. No one does."

"I do! I do. I want you. I want to be there for you. And our baby," said Finn, draping his arms around her shoulders.

She opened her mouth and closed it against as the tears fell off the edge of her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. Just four words she had to say, like ripping off a band aid. _It's not your baby_. But she couldn't force them out of her mouth. All she could do was move in and hold Finn tight, because even though she knew she didn't deserve him - and in actuality, she didn't even want him - he was still the only one who loved her, and she didn't want to give that up for anything.

xxx

Buffy stalked through the school halls after hours, the moonlight draped over the linoleum floors as it poured in through the windows. She stopped at Morgan's locker. Pea green, just like everyone else's. She slammed her fist against his padlock, and pulled it off with force, throwing the locker door open and searching it in the darkness. It contained what she imagined any regular guy's locker would contain. Timetable taped to the door, school books, a half-eaten bag of Cheetos. The only thing that wouldn't be in every other guy's locker would be the big case with a dummy inside. She frowned in disappointment as she caught the glimpse of a shadow beside her and gasped in shock.

"Principal Figgins!" she gasped, clutching her hand to her chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked in his thick Indian accent, not looking amused.

"Looking for something..."

"School hours are over, Ms. Summers."

"And I'm going any minute now."

"You students have been in disorder lately," he shook his head, "Loitering after school hours. Horrible murders with hearts removed. And someone filled my car with wood shavings!"

"Well, that's, um- I'm sorry about that."

"Don't think I haven't noticed something going on with you and the glee club. I will have a talk with Mr. Schuester about it... Do you need something here?" he asked, nodding to the open locker.

"Oh, right! A friend wanted me to get something. Out of his case!" Buffy exclaimed, reaching into the locker and opening the case. But it was ominously empty. "He must have already got it and forgotten to tell me."

"Mm hm. Go home now, Ms. Summers. It's late," said Principal Figgins.

Buffy nodded, dropping her fake smile as Figgins strode away. "Damn," she muttered.

xxx

"Jesse?"

Rachel clutched her purse tight to the chest of her tweed plaid dress, her hair brushed back behind her shoulders. She almost regretted stopping into Carmel High's auditorium after hours. Jesse told her he would be here, so where was he? She squinted in the darkness as she stood on their wide stage when a spotlight turned on and illuminated the spot where Rachel stood, temporarily blinding her.

"Who's there? I carry a rape whistle!" she called into the darkness.

"Just me," chuckled Jesse who appeared at the door, smirking. Rachel sighed in relief as he made his way up to the stage. "Most spotlights are twenty five hundred watts. This one is ten times brighter. We have to wear sun screen on stage, but it's worth it."

"How?" asked Rachel, squinting away from the bright light.

"Magic," grinned Jesse.

"Right. I guess everything is bigger and brighter here. I have to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth because if you don't, there will be consequences. Life and death consequences. Because if I give myself to you and it turns out you're just playing me... I might die. Not literally, but emotionally. It'll be the kind of heartbreak that girls like me hold for the rest of their lives. Like Barbra in The Way We Were."

Jesse clenched his jaw a moment before chuckling heartily.

"What?" asked Rachel.

"You're even more of a drama queen than I am," he smiled, and hugged her, and pulled away, "Hi. I'm Jesse."

"I know who you are-"

"You know Jesse St. James; the star of Vocal Adrenaline, your competition at Regionals. I want to introduce you to Jesse. The guy who's nuts about you. The guy who would never hurt you."

Rachel sighed and hugged Jesse back, standing on her tip toes to kiss him. From over the top of her head, he lifted his eyes to see Shelby Corcoran, his show choir coach, watching from behind the stage curtain, nodding her head in approval.

xxx

That night, Buffy shot out of sleep as she heard scurrying on her bedroom floor. She leaned forward on the edge of her bed to peer down at what was there, when something small jumped out at her. She screamed and thrashed around in her bed before jumping out and backing up against the wall. The room was illuminated as her mother burst in and flipped the light switch.

"Buffy, what is it?" Joyce cried.

"Something in the bed! There's something there!"

Buffy moved forward protectively as her mother pulled off the bed covers, but there was nothing there.

"Are you sure you didn't just have a nightmare?"

"No, there's something..." Buffy stopped and pushed her hair away from her damp forehead, "...You're probably right. I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Don't worry about it. I was dreaming about bills," joked Joyce, and kissed her daughter's forehead, "Sweetheart, you shouldn't go to sleep with the window open."

As Joyce slipped out of the room, Buffy stared at the ajar window.

"I didn't," she muttered, furrowing her brow.


	12. The Talent Show

**Chapter 12**

**The Talent Show**

"Where's Morgan?" asked Buffy, sitting behind Mr. Schuester in the auditorium as Mark Bolton attempted to saw a girl in half for his magic act.

"Uh, I haven't seen him," said Mr. Schuester.

"Did he do something to you?" asked Rachel as she approached with music sheets in her hands and an oversized pink headband wrapped around her skull.

"No, it's... Sid, the dummy," said Buffy, as Will and Rachel glanced awkwardly at her, "Go on, look at me like I'm in a bunny suit because that's how stupid I feel saying this. But I think Sid was in my room last night."

"With... Morgan?" asked Rachel.

"No. He was alone. And alive."

"Did you see him?" asked Mr. Schue.

"Well, I saw something! It ran across my floor and attacked me!"

"Attacked you? How?" asked Will, turning around in his seat.

"It was like it pounced on my face."

"Like a cat?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah, exactly. But when I turned on the lights, it was already gone. I think it went out through my window."

"Like a cat?" Rachel repeated.

"Yeah- No! It was Sid, the dummy," she hushed.

"Maybe it's just a nightmare of somebody who has dummies on her mind," reasoned Will.

"You did say they creeped you out," said Rachel, taking a seat beside the two.

"Excuse me? Can I have a little support here, please? I'm not just some crazy person. I'm the slayer!"

The three of them turned their heads to watch Morgan sorting through his dummy case, with Sid inside it.

"I'd like to see Morgan without his better half for a minute. Bet he could tell me something," said Buffy.

"Buffy," squeaked Tina as she approached them from behind in a green plaid skirt, her laptop tucked under her arm, "I did some research on Emily's murders."

Buffy rose from the seats and leaned in close to hear Tina's whispers.

"I found a reference to a brotherhood of seven demons," said Tina in a hushed tone under the sound of murmuring students and a tuba, "They take the form of humans, and every seven years, the demons need human organs - a brain and a heart. Otherwise, they go back to their regular form."

"So, it could still be Morgan..." trailed off Buffy.

"Except, the demons are preternaturally strong," said Tina.

"But Morgan looks like he's getting weaker every day..." said Buffy, staring at the carpeted floor in concentration, "Oh, Tina! I wanted to give you something."

"Huh?" asked Tina as Buffy searched through her backpack and pulled out a dusty leather bound book.

"It's called the pergamum codex," said Buffy, handing it to her, "I, uh, I found it..."

"You... found it?"

"Yeah! You know, vamps leaving cryptic stuff around. Anyways, I think it's like a book of prophecies."

"Cool," sighed Tina, marveling at the cryptic pages.

"Yeah. I thought you would be the best person to decipher them."

"Thanks, Buffy!"

"No problem."

xxx

That day in class, Buffy's History teacher rambled on about Napoleon, and Noah Puckerman snored softly beside her as she bore her eyes into the back of Morgan's head; Sid, his dummy, resting on the desk. Buffy's heart pounded against her chest as Sid's head turned on its own accord to face her.

"Looks like someone digs you," Morgan Ru giggled quietly, leaning into Buffy from the seat on her other side, "That's adorable. You can both go on tour in the freak show."

"Who can tell me how France responded to this policy?" asked Mr. Perry, when he noticed Sid the dummy whispering into Morgan's ear, "Morgan... Morgan!"

"What?" asked Morgan, mousily.

"Morgan has other things on his mind," grumbled Sid, causing the class to chuckle quietly.

"Give me that," Mr. Perry frowned, and grabbed Sid out of Morgan's hands, "You'll get him back after school."

He locked Sid away in the supply closet, and turned back to the class.

"I'm still watching you," Sid grumbled from inside the closet.

"Morgan, that is enough!" growled Mr. Perry as the rest of the class laughed.

xxx

Buffy was starting to get the heebie jeebies. Especially as she entered the choir room early with Rachel and Tina at either side of her. Finn Hudson sat on one of the hard maroon chairs with Sid the dummy propped up on his lap. Quinn didn't look pleased, sitting beside her long legged boyfriend and Sid. She wrinkled her nose and tucked a lock of light brown hair behind her ear.

"That thing is creepy," she muttered, a hand hovering over her pregnant bump.

"Where did you get that?" Buffy demanded, striding up in front of Finn.

"Mr. Perry's closet..." Finn stuttered, feeling intimidated by Buffy's authoritarian pose, "I know you guys are working on some sort of case for the weird stuff that happens around here... Like that murder... And Quinn told me about how weird Morgan has been acting. And then I saw him. Today, in History? He really was weird. So I thought I'd take his dummy so you could find him and talk to him... alone."

Buffy's shoulders slumped as she looked at Sid in Finn's lap, his glassy eyes playful when they should be vacant.

"Well, thanks, Finn."

"No problem," he smiled, "He's kind of fun to play with, anyways."

He chuckled as he stuck his hand in Sid's back and made him wiggle his eyebrows.

"I really don't think you should be doing that," said Buffy, as Rachel and Tina took a seat behind the couple, waiting for the rest of glee club to arrive.

"It's not real, Buffy," Finn smirked, knocking the doll's head off the leg of his chair.

"Morgan's probably looking for it," said Rachel.

"Well, I'll just have to go find Morgan," said Buffy, "You keep an eye on... him."

Finn made Sid wave goodbye as Buffy strutted out the choir room door.

"We should do our own research," Rachel said, determined.

"I thought glee club was the most important thing in your pathetic little life," mumbled Quinn, picking at her French tipped nails.

Rachel pursed her lips bitterly. "I thought lying was yours," she remarked as she got out of her seat, "Come on, Tina. Let's go to the library. You can research reanimation and I'll have to grit through the organ harvesting."

The girls left the choir room, leaving Quinn tight lipped and suspicious next to her oblivious boyfriend.

"Well, screw this. If no-one's going to bother showing up, I'm gone," pouted Quinn.

"I'll come with you," offered Finn.

"Don't. I mean, I'm going to help the girls study. I'll see you after free period."

"Okay," Finn said, watching his girlfriend leave, steadying herself with her hand on her stomach. "I guess it's just you and me," he said to the dummy, cradling it like a creepy wooden baby.

Clutching her ever growing bump in between her hands, Quinn wobbled to the librarian's desk and peered down at the frail, time-wrinkled woman.

"Principal Figgins called for you," she said, leaning against the wooden desk, "Something about cutting senior citizen parking benefits."'

The ancient librarian widened her pale beady eyes and jetted out of the door, the sound of the chains on her horn rimmed glasses clanging after her. Quinn sighed, satisfied with herself. She had mastered the art of lying from a very early age. She weaved through the school library's book cases until she found Rachel and Tina with their heads ducked down, researching.

"Listen, Man Hands," Quinn said through gritted teeth, throwing her hands down on the table and leaning in, "You're gonna tell me what you think you know."

Rachel and Tina looked up, their mouths hanging open in surprise, two sets of brown eyes innocently boring into Quinn.

"What are you-?" started Rachel, but Quinn wasn't having any of it.

"Don't think you can make your snide remarks to me in front of Finn when you have no idea what you're talking about!" Quinn shouted, her temperature rising rapidly.

"Quinn, stop," Rachel muttered, eyeing the smoke gently wafting from Quinn's hands, "You can't lose control. You might hurt someone. Yourself... Your baby."

Quinn lifted her hands from the table and raised them surrender style, breathing slowly through her nose.

"Okay... Okay," she whispered to herself, "But I know you know something."

Rachel clasped her hands together on the table and nodded, locking her eyes onto Quinn's, attempting to feign confidence. "I do know... something."

Quinn breathed in and out and calmed herself, her eyes still scanning the two girls, agitated. "Well, keep it to yourself," she said and turned around to leave the library.

"I can't promise that," Rachel piped up.

Quinn looked over her shoulder and turned around to face the girls. Rachel held her chin in the air with defiance, and Tina shrunk into her seat with her nose in an old book, avoiding conflict.

"What?" Quinn asked, her teeth clamped tightly together.

"You're ruining Finn's life, Quinn," Rachel said, leaning forward, her eyes shifting around the almost empty library, "If you don't tell him, I will."

Quinn screwed up her face in disbelief and lurched forward a step. "What gives you the right-... Finn is my boyfriend a-and... You're not going to ruin what I have with him! Because even if he leaves me, he won't want you! Just because you sing and dance with him..." Quinn trailed off, becoming uncertain of what she was saying, flushed and panicked, "You'll never have him. You won't."

"This isn't about me," Rachel said quietly, her eyes steady on the surface of the table.

"Yes it is!" cried Quinn.

"No, it's not!" retorted Rachel, taking a chance and rising from her seat, confident, "You're going to ruin Finn's life to preserve your own sense of self-worth. You're being selfish!"

"No, I-I-There's nothing wrong with what I'm doing!"

"Have you really convinced yourself that? Because Finn is helping you pay for all medical costs, for a baby that isn't even his!"

"It's none of your business!"

"And it's not just until you give birth and give it away, is it? Finn will miss her. He will always carry the thought that somewhere out there is his daughter, and he'll always feel something missing. All because of one lie you told to protect yourself!"

"Shut up!" cried Quinn, her eyes getting hot with tears and her hands sweating with rage, "Stay away from Finn!"

"Quinn, be careful," Rachel said, backing away from the heavy plumes of smoke erupting from Quinn's hands, Tina sidling off with her.

Quinn breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling with increasing speed, until they heard the door creaking. Quinn whipped her head around to see the elderly librarian sauntering back in slowly to her desk, looking annoyed. She calmed her breathing and closed her eyes and counted to ten, only to open them and see Rachel and Tina staring at her, frightened.

"Stay away from Finn," Quinn repeated under her breath and stormed out.

xxx

"Morgan?" Buffy called out into the empty auditorium.

She could strike out the feeling that Morgan and his creepy doll were lurking around somewhere, in the shadows of the thick velvet stage curtains. Making her way onto the stage from the wooden side stairway, the heavy heels of her Darcies thudded against the wood surface. For Christmas she'd asked for those same black leather boots that Santana always wore, that stayed shiny and weightless when she trudged through cemetery grass. Buffy admired Santana since the latter gave the former her mother's silver cross necklace. She still had it hung around her neck and tucked under her shirt, like always. Surprisingly, Santana being a vampire didn't change much. She still liked and respected her, and why shouldn't she? She has a soul. She's like everyone else. She was only afraid that Rachel and Mr. Schuester wouldn't see it the same way.

Buffy whipped behind the heavy stage curtains and trotted backstage, where the light bulbs surrounding the vanity tables were turned off and powder and lipstick were strewn across the tabletops, the only light coming from the spotlight on the other side of the curtains. Buffy squinted through the darkness, until she heard a footstep behind her and gasped in the wake of Emma Pillsbury.

"Buffy?" Ms. Pillsbury squeaked, surprised, staring Buffy straight on like a deer caught in the headlights, "What are you doing here?"

Buffy opened and closed her mouth a few brief times like a guppy before she replied. "Looking for someone."

"I'm looking for someone, too," Ms. Pillsbury replied quietly, "But he's not here, so... Are you sure you should be here alone? With everything that's been happening recently..."

"I was just leaving," smiled Buffy, "And, I know how to take care of myself."

"Alright, then," said Ms. Pillsbury, nodding her head vehemently looking both alarmed and disappointed, and sidled away leaving Buffy backstage.

xxx

Finn leaned back, his long legs out far in front of him as the plastic chair creaked under his weight. The choir room was dull and empty save for Finn and the lifeless doll on his lap. He felt a little silly, practicing cradling it and rocking it on his knee. Not only because it was a wooden dummy, but also because he would never have the chance to do that kind of thing with his own daughter. Quinn was completely set on giving the baby up for adoption, which, when Finn really thought about it, was probably for the best. Quinn always seemed more level headed than the other girls in school. She didn't aim too high or dream too big, but she knew exactly her capabilities, and she went for them, usually succeeding. As much as Finn tended to admire that, he also found Rachel's dreamy, ambitious nature refreshing. She really believed she was one in a million, and her confidence made other people think it, too. She didn't just believe in what she knew she could achieve, she believed all the gray areas and the tiny possibilities. She believed in magic, and not in the way that Quinn did. Real magic. The stuff that's inside. At least, that's what Finn thought...

Finn looked down at the puppet, and absent-mindedly wondered if his and Quinn's baby girl would be adopted by a stylish gay couple, like Rachel's dads. The idea seemed a bit strange to Finn, but if two dudes could raise Rachel to be so smart and so talented and so hopeful, then why shouldn't they be able to provide the same for his daughter? He knew how rare true self-confidence was, and the one thing he really wanted was to make sure his daughter grew up believing in herself. But he could never be sure of that. He would never see her again. It kind of infuriated him how little his opinion mattered. He knew adoption was the best chance for the baby to be raised properly, but it would've been nice to be asked. People seemed to act like this horrible tragedy was only happening to Quinn, but he was losing a daughter, too. Sometimes the only thing that calmed him down was talking to Rachel. He couldn't let himself lose control around her. He knew he could never do something like that to Quinn. Not anymore. But talking to her was good enough sometimes.

As he fidgeted with the puppet in his lap, he worried about the future, at the same time, Rachel was picking at her rose-colored fingernails and biting her bottom lip, with a book set out on the table that she was paying no mind.

Tina peered over the edge of her book at her anxious friend. "Rachel?" Tina asked softly, leaning forward slightly.

"Yes?" Rachel peeped, waking out of her deep thought.

"It's none of my business... but I think you were right."

"Pardon me?" asked Rachel, furrowing her brow.

"About Quinn's baby... If Puck's the father, Finn should know. He shouldn't have to live with that. It's not fair."

Rachel looked in Tina's eyes a moment, lost, before smiling confidently. "Thank you, Tina."

Tina squirmed and buried her nose back in her book. "I'm just... I'm just worried that you're doing it for the wrong reasons."

"What do you mean?" asked Rachel, defensive.

"No, I just... I feel like you're just doing it to break them up."

"Of course not!" laughed Rachel, "Tina, can I tell you a secret?"

"Yes," whispered Tina, leaning in close.

"I have a boyfriend," Rachel whispered excitedly.

"What? Who?" asked Tina.

"Jesse St. James. He goes to Carmel High," Rachel smiled widely, "He sings for Vocal Adrenaline."

"Vocal Adrenaline?" Tina repeated, surprised.

"So I'm not doing this to ruin Finn and Quinn's relationship."

"And you don't like Finn anymore?"

"Of course not, Tina!" Rachel waved her off, but Tina remained unconvinced.

"I think I found something," said Tina, burying her head back in her book.

"What is it?" asked Rachel, leaning forward on the library table.

Tina ducked down into her book and read the passage aloud. "From a section on toys and magic. On rare occasion, inanimate objects with human qualities such as dolls and mannequins, already mystically possessed of consciousness, have acted upon their desire to be human by harvesting organs."

"Emily's heart..." whispered Rachel.

"Morgan's dummy," said Tina.

Rachel nodded, and stared off into the carpeted library floors with a faraway look. "Have you told Artie about how you faked your stutter?" asked Rachel after a moment, snapping back to reality.

Tina's mouth hung open in surprise. "Yeah," she replied.

"And? How'd he take it?" pushed Rachel.

"Not well..." frowned Tina.

Rachel grimaced and sympathetically patted Tina's arm. "Hopefully everything will turn out okay for you two."

"I'm sure it will. I mean, we're still friends..."

"But nothing more?"

"No," Tina sadly shook her head, "It's alright."

"You'll get him in the end. Don't worry."

"It's okay Rachel. I don't need to get the guy or the happy ending or anything. I liked him, but things change and people move on..." Tina trailed off shyly as Finn approached, giving the girls a crooked smile.

"Finn!" Rachel exclaimed with a wide smile, a little too loudly, making the ancient librarian shush her from her desk.

"Hey, guys," he smiled sweetly, "Did you need any help studying?"

"Where's the puppet?" asked Tina.

"Oh, right. I left it in the choir room."

"You weren't supposed to leave it unattended..." said Tina, and Rachel smiled up at Finn, in a trance.

"It's not gonna run away," smirked Finn, making Rachel giggle giddily.

Tina pursed her lips tightly, and Finn looked slightly troubled.

"...Well, will it?"

xxx

Buffy began to grow impatient with herself. She'd lurked around the backstage of the school auditorium to no avail. She was sure Morgan would be here, but she slumped her shoulders in defeat. She searched behind the racks of costumes, but no such luck. Despite the familiar sensation that someone was watching her, Morgan was nowhere to be found. She tried to make her way back out of the piles of outfits, but her foot snagged against something on the floor, and when she stumbled forward and looked down, she noticed it wasn't a something, but a someone. She squinted her eyes in the darkness and breathed nervously as she spotted the body on the floor, its face hidden by the ends of cheap show dresses on their racks.

"Morgan," she whispered, moving forward to push the clothes away from the boy's face, but before she could, she gasped under a falling object that came crashing down from the ceiling.

It knocked her to the floor and she coughed, winded, under the chandelier the drama club had used for a production of Phantom of the Opera the previous winter. Her breath was sucked away again as she heard the pitter patters of tiny footsteps on the balcony above the stage. Buffy struggled from under the heavy chandelier.

"Whoever's out there, I'm gonna hurt you. Just... give me a minute," she muttered.

She tried to shift the chandelier off of her, but as she turned to her left, a knife came down on the floor dangerously close to her face. She screamed in shock as she saw Sid the dummy wielding a knife, stabbing at her, but failing to make a hit. She lifted her arm out and shoved the doll with all her strength, sending it reeling backwards. She sidled out from under her entrapment and pinned the dummy against the wall before it could try anything more with its butcher knife.

"You win," it grumbled angrily, it's ever wide glassy eyes boring into her with fury, "You can take your heart and your brain and move on."

"I'm sure it would have made great trophies in your case," frowned Buffy.

"That would have been justice," grumbled the doll.

"Yeah, except for one thing. You lost, and now you'll never be human."

"Yeah, well, neither will you!"

Buffy and Sid let their eyes trail downward in thought a moment before looking back up at each other. "What?" they said in unison.

xxx

Mr. Schuester sat back in the chair at his desk, the walls of his office seeming to disappear as he concentrated on Morgan's dummy. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that it was speaking. Rachel, Finn, Tina and Quinn all stood around him, watching and listening with their mouths hanging open, speechless. Buffy stood behind the doll with her arms folded, urging him to continue.

"This is what I do," the doll grumbled in his husky voice, "Hunt demons. Yeah, you wouldn't know it to look at me. Let's just say, there was me, there was really mean demon, there was a curse, and the next thing I know, I'm not me anymore. I'm sitting on some guy's knee, with his hand up my shirt. Pervert."

"And ever since then, you've been a living dummy...?" asked Quinn, skeptical and yet extremely interested.

"The kid here was right all along. I should have picked you to team up with. But I didn't..." trailed off Sid.

"Because you thought I was the demon?" asked Buffy.

"Who could blame me? I mean, look at you," said Sid, his glassy blue eyes swiveling back to look at Buffy, "You're strong, athletic, limber... nubile-"

"Okay, okay," said Mr. Schuester, raising his hands and looking uncomfortable.

"In any case," continued Sid, "Now that this demon's got the heart and brain, he gets to keep the human form he's in for another seven years."

"It's a nice change to have someone else explain all these things," said Rachel, sighing in exhaustion and taking a seat on the edge of Mr. Schuester's desk.

"I've killed six of these guys. If I can get seven, the curse will be lifted and I'll be free. If it weren't for someone in that stupid talent show..." said Sid.

"Yeah, but now the demon has what he wants, he'll be moving on," said Buffy.

"So once we know who's missing from the show..." said Sid.

"We'll know who our demon is!" exclaimed Buffy.

"The show!" piped up Mr. Schuester, sitting up straight in his chair.

"What?" asked Rachel.

"It's gonna start! I'm supposed to be there!"

"Okay, um, start pulling everyone's addresses from the talent show," said Buffy as Mr. Schuester hastily strode away from the office and down the hall.

Mr. Schuester walked briskly down the hall, brushing past lackadaisical students. He rushed on his way to the auditorium, to get the contestants ready in a power circle and figure out who was a no show. He was in such a rush he almost knocked right into Emma Pillsbury, who looked alarmed and yet delighted to see him.

"Will!" she exclaimed a little too loudly.

"Emma," he replied.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Right. It's not actually a good time-"

"I know we've been avoiding each other since what happened at the Christmas party! I completely understand. I-It's an uncomfortable topic," she spoke hastily, "I mean, I don't normally do things like that. I guess it was the rum in that egg nog, and those pretty lights, and you know there was mistletoe-"

"I know, but-"

"I know, you have to be somewhere, but, Will, I just... I wanted to say that even though it was a kind of spontaneous thing for me to do, I'm sure to both of us it still meant something," Emma smiled shyly, "I know last time I asked you on a date, you said you were busy, but I thought-"

Will sighed and put a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Emma, I like you... I really do. It's just..."

Emma didn't need an explanation for her smile to falter. "You're still busy, right?" she asked, ducking her head down, her voice shaky and quiet.

"I have a lot on my plate nowadays. I don't think a relationship would be best for me right now."

Emma nodded, looking upset and disappointed, but trying to maintain her poise and composure. "It's okay, Will..."

"Emma, I'm sorry."

"Its fine," she said quietly, and brushed past him, walking quickly away to her office.

Will sighed, feeling guilty, but there was little he could do. Despite his feelings he tried not to stay idle, and quickly strode to the auditorium. Backstage, the contestants bustled about in makeup and costumes, getting ready for whatever talent they were going to show off.

"I can't go out there!" cried Piper Saberhagen, gripping the lapel of Mr. Schuester vest as he appeared backstage, "All those people are out there... staring at me... What if I mess up? I'm not beautiful and co-coordinated like Quinn Fabray!"

"Piper, just... imagine everyone in their underwear," said Mr. Schuester.

"Ew! Even Mrs. Hagberg?"

"...Maybe not," mumbled Mr. Schuester, "Okay, um, everyone, we'll assemble in five minutes for the power circle."

He wasn't sure if everyone was really paying attention, though, as they fiddled with their fiddles and toyed with their puppets. Buffy had a bird's eye view of the whole affair from the metal balcony above the stage.

"What's your deal, kid?" asked Sid, who was propped up beside her, "I never figured you for a demon hunter."

"I'm a slayer," said Buffy.

"You? You're a slayer?"

Buffy nodded gingerly.

"Damn," said Sid, "I knew a slayer in the 30's. Korean chick. Very hot. We had some times."

Buffy grinned and side-eyed Sid skeptically.

"Hey, that was pre-dummy times!" said Sid, "I was a guy."

"So, you kill the demon and the curse is lifted, right?" asked Buffy.

"That's the drill."

"You don't actually turn into a prince, do you?" asked Buffy, "I mean, your body..."

"Is dust and bones. When I say free-"

"You mean dead?"

"Don't get all sniffly on me, sis. I've lived a lot longer than most demon hunters. Or slayers, for that matter. Of course, if you want to snuggle up and comfort me..."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "So that horny dummy thing really isn't an act, is it?"

"Nope."

"Yuck."

"Is everybody here?" asked Will down below, as he gathered the contestants together in a group backstage.

"Here comes our lineup," grumbled Sid as Mr. Schuester gathered everyone.

"Okay, everyone, form a circle," called Mr. Schuester, as everyone circled up. He nodded towards everyone, counting the heads, "Uh, that's that then... Everybody... get ready"

"That's it?" someone mumbled in the crowd as everyone departed again, confused.

"Hold on," Buffy said to Sid, and jumped from the balcony, and landed nimbly on her feet backstage as everyone dispersed.

"No one's missing," said Mr. Schuester, approaching her as he scratched his head, "It's nearly curtain. I should get the show running."

"Right," said Buffy, and looked back up, but the dummy demon hunter was gone. "Sid?"

Buffy pushed past people backstage, looking for the little wooden dummy hobbling about, but she couldn't find him. She moved into the empty background and shifted things around.

"Sid?" Buffy called, searching through racks of clothes, when something suddenly fell down with a thud on the ground.

Buffy gasped in horror. It was a brain.

xxx

"I don't think I'll ever stop washing my hands," said Buffy, tucking her hands under her arms in Mr. Schuester's office as Rachel watched Tina type away on the computer and Finn sat on the edge of his desk.

"So... the dummy tells us he's a demon hunter, and we're like fine, la la la..." said Finn, staring at the carpet in a dubious stare, "Then he takes off and now there's a brain?"

"Why would the demon have rejected the brain?" Rachel wondered aloud, "I mean, I thought Morgan was the smartest kid in school."

"He was," said Finn, "I mean, look at his grades. He was a straight A student. I haven't seen anyone with a higher GPA."

"Wait a second..." mumbled Tina.

"What?" asked Buffy.

"Look at all these sick days," she said, as Buffy turned to face the computer, "He was out for almost half the year."

"Check the nurse's file," said Rachel, and Tina opened it up.

"In case of emergency contact Dr. Dale Leggit, Midwestern Institute of Neurosurgery. Cancer ward," she read out.

"Brain cancer?" Rachel asked quietly.

"That's why he had all the headaches," muttered Buffy, "This means that whatever's out there still needs a healthy intelligent brain."

"In other words, I'm safe," Finn grinned, but he quickly dropped his smile.

"In other words, he'll be looking for the smartest person around."

Everyone turned solemnly and stared at Tina, who looked up at them with innocent dark brown eyes.

"What? What could a demon possibly want from me?" Tina squeaked.

"What's the square root of eight hundred and forty one?" asked Rachel.

"Twenty nine," replied Tina without missing a beat, "Oh..."

"Don't worry, Tina. As long as you're with us, there's absolutely no way that demon is getting what it wants," Buffy assured.

xxx

"Hey! Milf!"

Quinn Fabray wrinkled her nose. Her classmates had taken to calling her that since they'd noticed her growing bump.

"What do you want, freak?" asked Quinn, shuffling things through her locker as Mark Bolton approached her with a cheesy felt top hat and a fake wizard's wand with a white tip.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't call you that," he said nervously.

"Probably not," she frowned.

"I was just looking for some help."

"Why should I help you?"

"Because you're so kind," smiled Mark.

Quinn raised her eyebrows at him and closed her locker door.

"And because I may have stumbled upon the questions on Mrs. Margolis's Chemistry test tomorrow. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. I know how important your grades are to you."

Quinn pouted. "What would I have to do?"

"Just help me set up something for my act in the talent show. I have this guillotine-"

"Guillotine? As in chop French peoples' heads off, guillotine?"

"You do pay attention in History! Yes, it's a guillotine, but don't freak, it's fake."

"Right, for your 'magic'," sighed Quinn, using her fingers as air quotes.

"Hey, I work plenty of magic," winked Mark, making Quinn groan and roll her eyes, "But we should get going. There's not a lot of time left."

Quinn reluctantly followed, to see Mark work his magic.

xxx

"This is ridiculous," Buffy paced around Mr. Schuester's office, "We can't just sit around and wait for him to come to us. We have to figure out who we're dealing with!"

"I still vote dummy," Finn said quietly.

"No! Okay, so we ruled out all the people in the talent show-"

"That's because they were all there, but that's before we found the brain," said Rachel.

"Right. So it probably is one of them..." said Buffy, "And Mr. Schuester doesn't know! He's with them right now!"

"Mr. Schue can handle himself," Finn waved off, "He's really... smart."

Everyone began to look panicked as it dawned on them. Buffy burst out of the office as Tina, Rachel and Finn followed quick on her heels.

xxx

Quinn Fabray gulped. That guillotine did not look friendly.

"It's a lot bigger than I imagined," said Quinn, wide eyed as she brushed a lock of brown hair out of her face.

"That's what she said," Mark tittered as he tightened bolts on his contraption in the back room of the auditorium.

"Are you sure there's no one else who could help you out?" asked Quinn.

"My assistant got sick," said Mark, "And don't you want those test questions? You won't have to say anything. I'll show you. Lie down."

"How exactly does it work?" asked Quinn, bending forward as Mark pulled on a rope and lifted the razor sharp blade of the full sized guillotine painted yellow and blue.

"A good magician never tells his secrets," said Mark, "Come on."

Taking her hand, he kept her steady as she kneeled down and got in her back in the right position. He lifted the top of her head into the space, and strapped her in tight.

"Be careful," she snapped as he tied straps around her pregnant stomach.

He tied her up and leveled the guillotine's blade above her head.

"Sh-Shouldn't it be aimed at my neck?" she asked.

"No. No, this way, your scalp gets sliced off and your brains just come pouring out."

"What exactly is the trick?" asked Quinn, her heartbeat rising.

"Trick?" asked Mark, grinning fiendishly.

"Mark?" called Quinn as he moved behind the guillotine, out of her sight. "Mark?" she called as she started to hear him chop at the rope that held the blade over her head.

xxx

"Mr. Schue!" Buffy called, knocking into the man as he issued students around backstage.

"Buffy!" he cried, as she charged into him and knocked him to the ground, "What are you doing?"

"We thought you were in danger! Of... your brain!" stammered Rachel as she, Tina and Finn approached behind Buffy.

"What are you talking about?" Mr. Schuester asked, irritated, brushing himself off as he rose from the ground.

Buffy didn't have time to explain before she heard the ominous sound of chopping coming from the back room. She thundered in just in time to see Mark cutting at a giant rope, and Quinn trapped in a guillotine, calling out for him to stop. Buffy tackled Mark to the ground before the rope could be cut and kicked him down several times before he could get up. She made a noticeable mark in his face - a spot where she'd torn his skin, and she could see the flesh of a scaly demon underneath.

"Ew!" cried Buffy, as Mark made a swift kick at her legs, and knocked her down.

As Buffy and Mark fought back and forth, Finn and Rachel rushed to Quinn's side, Rachel untangling the tight straps around her, and Finn hitting at the lock trapping her head in the guillotine with Mark's small axe. As Buffy and Mark fought, more parts of his flesh started to fall off, revealing him as his true demon self.

"What's happening?" Quinn cried as Finn and Rachel struggled to free her.

Buffy sent punch after punch after flying kick Mark's way as Finn and Rachel unbound Quinn, and lifted her off the ground.

"Move!" cried Buffy, and the three ran out of the way, as she kicked Mark in place on the guillotine, and broke the rope with her bare hands.

The sight wasn't pretty. Greenish ooze where blood should be dripped from the blade, and from Mark's half hacked off head.

"Your timing is amazing," said Quinn, unblinking as she stared at the guillotine.

"And now the big finish," they heard a familiar grumble.

With Tina and Mr. Schuester, Sid stumbled into the back room with his sharp knife.

"It's not enough. He'll come back," said Sid, "You have to get the heart. Then all of this will be over."

"Let me," offered Buffy, locks of blond hair strewn and falling out of her hair tie.

"I got it. Thanks."

Sid heartily stabbed the demon twice in the chest, and fell over him, unmoving. Buffy frowned as she stared at the wooden doll. His glassy eyes were vacant where they should be playful.

"I'm so confused," Quinn sighed.

"It's okay now," Rachel reassured, "He wanted your brain."

"Oh..." said Quinn.

"People must underestimate how smart you are because you're a pretty cheerleader," said Rachel.

Quinn looked at her a moment, stunned. "Maybe..." she trailed off.

xxx

Quinn watched the students flood out as school ended, like the waves in an ocean. She felt strangely calm as she stood idle by her locker. In her mind, she was kissing all that she cherished goodbye, and it was okay. She felt the tapping on her shoulder, and before she turned, she told herself everything would be okay.

"Finn," she said, turning to face her boyfriend. Everything would be okay for him, too. She would set him free.

"Today was crazy," he smiled down at her.

"You can say that again..." she said softly, "I have something I want to say."

"So do I. I let you down today."

"What? No-"

"I did. I left the dummy unattended, and even though it turned out to be one of the good guys, it just as easily could have been a demon. It got me thinking that maybe I'm not cut out to be a father just yet, and even though you, by no means, need my blessing to give the baby up for adoption, I just wanted to say, you're making the right decision."

"Finn..." sighed Quinn, "Thank you. You don't know what it means."

"Really?" smiled Finn.

"Yes. You're so kind, and warm, and sweet... You deserve so much better. That's why I can't keep lying to you."

"Huh?"

As calm as she tried to make herself feel, she couldn't stop the fear from coming up and getting caught in her throat, putting a stopper on the words she wanted to say.

"I was thinking today… I was in pretty immediate danger. If you guys hadn't shown up, I'd be dead. Which means, the baby would be dead, too. And I thought of you. I thought of what that would do to you... To lose your girlfriend like that would be one thing. But your daughter? That would kill you, Finn, and that would be something you couldn't ever come back from. I don't want you to have to go through that kind of pain for no reason."

"What are you saying?"

Quinn's words almost got caught in her throat and tears flooded her eyes before she could even speak. "I'm saying, you don't have to worry about the baby... Because the baby's not yours."

Finn stared down at his girlfriend a moment, with a hint of confusion on his face, before his mouth twisted in anger.

"What...?" was all he could say.

Tears began to slip down Quinn's face. Sometimes she wondered if she even loved Finn. She doubted it. But there wasn't a doubt in her mind that she cared about him, and it killed her to see him so hurt.

"I'm sorry, Finn..." she whispered, tears dribbling down to her lips and falling off of her pointed chin.

"That can't be right... That can't be true!" he said, his eyes beginning to redden.

Quinn shook her head. "I'm so sorry." It was all she could say.

"No, that can't... Who's the father?"

Quinn looked at the ground, ashamed. "Puck..." she whispered.

Finn backed into a locker, looking crestfallen. Quinn looked up into his face. She could see the pain across it and wanted to look away, but she forced herself to stare into his eyes. He was hurt and betrayed and it was all her fault.

"Finn, I'm so sorry..." she said, and put her hand on his arm.

He pulled away and looked at her, suddenly furious. "Don't touch me! I'm done with you, I'm done with both of you!" he shouted, and stormed off before anyone else lingering in the hallway could see him crying.

Quinn furrowed her brow and swallowed her tears. She wiped the strays off of her face and forced herself to stay calm. She almost felt as if she didn't deserve to cry. Not when he was hurting so much. She had to be the strong one, because this whole mess was all her fault. She was lost as to what to do now when she caught the sight of Rachel Berry's big brown eyes peering at her from behind her locker door. Quinn turned away to hide her tear stained face from Rachel's prying eyes, and grimaced as she heard the girl approach her from behind.

"Quinn?" she said softly.

"What do you want?" asked Quinn, burying her face in her locker, her voice wobbly and fragile.

"I'm sorry."

Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes, taking her head out of her locker and looking at Rachel who stood twiddling her thumbs.

"You have no reason to be sorry, Rachel. You were right all along," said Quinn, sounding bitter.

"You have every right to be mad at me," said Rachel.

Quinn's mouth hung open and her face softened. "I'm not mad at you."

"Why not?"

"Because... you're brave, and honest, and you were just trying to get me to do the right thing. And you succeeded. Thank you."

Rachel looked surprised. "If you ever need a place to stay..."

"I'm staying with a friend. But, thank you. And I hope you're not mad at me."

"Mad at you?" asked Rachel, looking even more surprised, "Why would I be mad at you?"

Quinn had to laugh. "Because! I'm a bitch! I've been a bitch to you from square one. Every slushie, every mean name. You made me angry because I was jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Yes. You're confident, Rachel. And talented. I know what Finn sees in you. You have this belief in yourself that makes other people believe in you. And makes them realize how perfect you are."

Rachel blushed. "I'm not perfect."

Quinn sighed, resigned. "I get why you hate me."

"Quinn, no. I don't hate you. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me?" Quinn asked skeptically.

"It took a lot of courage to do what you did," Rachel smiled sweetly, "And I'm proud."

Quinn smiled back at her, warmed, before she quickly gathered her composure and slung her bag over her shoulders, indifferent.

"Well, thanks," she said, "I'll see you in glee club tomorrow."

"Bye," smiled Rachel as she watched the girl walk away.

"Rachel?" Quinn called over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"You're welcome to let Finn cry on your shoulder. He needs a friend right now."

Rachel smiled, grateful.


	13. The Date

**Chapter 13**

**The Date**

Rachel sported a smile on her face Monday morning. Not that she smiled rarely, but for anyone to be so obnoxiously chipper on a Monday morning was suspicious in Buffy's book.

"What are you so happy about?" asked Buffy, who'd left school on Friday with demon brain bits stuck to the bottoms of her pink Converse, and still felt like she was dirty.

"I told you on Facebook!" Rachel smiled incredulously as Buffy approached her at their lockers.

"You did?" asked Buffy, one fair eyebrow raised.

"Yeah! About Quinn!" Rachel said as if it was obvious, emptying her books for the next few periods into her over-sized Anthropologie purse, "I'm so proud of her for doing the right thing."

"Oh, yeah. Good for her," Buffy nodded in agreement, opening her locker with a yawn.

"Now that she's open to this world of honesty and good intentions, we can all truly be friends now," smiled Rachel, locking up her locker.

"Friends?" asked Buffy. Her coffee this morning hadn't quite soaked in yet and she wasn't sure if she was hearing Rachel right.

"Friends," Rachel nodded with a tone of finality.

"Friends with... Quinn?"

"Yes, Buffy," Rachel laughed.

"Rachel, just because Quinn told her boyfriend what she should've told him from the very start does not suddenly make her best friend material."

Rachel frowned, disappointed. "What does that mean?"

"It means... You can't just immediately trust Quinn. She's sneaky and bitter and-"

"What happened to giving people the benefit of the doubt? Second chances, hm, Buffy?"

"Believe me, I am all for second chances!" said Buffy, raising her hands, "But Quinn almost killed you last semester and I do think it's a little weird that all of a sudden you want her braiding you hair with her fistfuls of fire."

Rachel pursed her lips together. "I believe in her, Buffy. It's what friends do."

"Fine," Buffy sighed, closing her locker.

"I'll prove it to you!" Rachel perked up.

"Prove what to me?"

"That Quinn can be a good friend."

"How are you gonna prove that?" Buffy asked, already dubious of whatever plan Rachel had stewing in her mind.

"Seeing as we're Quinn's friends now, we can take full advantage of her social status, and get her to set you up on a date!"

"A date?" Buffy asked, her shoulders slumping in reluctance.

Rachel nodded. "Jesse and I already went on our first date together. It was a lunchtime get-together to a cute place just out of town. It was simple and casual. Our second date, though, should be an early evening double dinner date at Breadstix with close friends! Then our third can be just the two of us for dinner and a show, and who knows, maybe I'll even let him give me a lingering kiss goodnight on the porch bench with the stars out. I'd have to schedule that date on a full moon, though, so it could be like a perfect circular spotlight on our epic romance. It's just so fitting for the two of us..."

Buffy simply stared at her best friend with her mouth hanging open as she rambled on, until Rachel caught Buffy's glazed over stare and stopped.

"Anyways," she continued, "Quinn surely knows someone who you could double date with me and Jesse tonight! And she definitely will, seeing as she's our friend now!"

"Rachel, no, I don't think this is a good-" Buffy said quickly as Rachel pulled the girl down the hall by the sleeve of her fleece.

"Quinn!" she exclaimed as the girls reached Quinn Fabray's locker door, where she stood with her bulbous stomach and her honey blond hair, "Love your hair! I see you went blond again. It really suits you."

"Thanks, Rachel..." Quinn smiled slightly, "It's from a bottle this time, not a cauldron."

Rachel threw her head back in laughter. "That's funny! I love how we can all just laugh together."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yeah..." she smiled, eyeing Buffy, "So, what's up?"

"Oh, nothing," Rachel smiled, "Just discussing our plans for tonight. Buffy needs a date!"

"I don't need a date! I mean, I guess I'd like one, but-" Buffy spluttered.

"We thought what with what a social butterfly you are, you'd definitely know someone to set up Buffy with," said Rachel.

Quinn blinked and turned her head. As Mike Chang strolled down the hall and passed her, she hooked her finger around the collar of his polo shirt and reeled him into the girls' little group.

"Hello, Mike," she said very formally.

"Hey, Quinn," he replied as she unhooked her finger from his shirt.

"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Nope."

"Then you'd be cool going on a date with Buffy tonight," Quinn smiled as if that was that, "You two would make the cutest couple."

"Who's Buffy?" asked Mike, confused.

"I'm Buffy," said Buffy, rolling her hazel eyes.

"Oh, right. You're in glee club," smiled Mike, "You're a great dancer."

Buffy smiled, flattered. "Oh, no way, not compared to you."

Quinn, smiled, satisfied with herself, and hooked her arm around Rachel. "We'll leave you two to get to know each other," said Quinn as she sidled off with Rachel.

Buffy scowled internally at how easy the two found it to find some guy and abandon her with him, but she flashed a broad smile at Mike, who was undeniably cute.

"So, how long have you been dancing?" Buffy asked.

"Since I was three, but only ever alone in my room, in front of a mirror," grinned Mike.

Buffy grinned. "Well, you're really good."

"You're sweet," he replied.

Buffy blushed and ducked her head down, staring at her feet. She could feel her face getting hot and growing just as pink as the fabric on her shoes.

"I'm not usually this awkward," she muttered as she looked back up at him.

Mike smirked to himself. "It's okay, really. I have a thing for shy girls."

"Well, that's me! Shy, wallflower Buffy," she laughed, as the bell rang and the two walked to class slowly, side by side.

"Really? I never would have thought. I always hear these rumors about you being all wild and dangerous."

Buffy nodded. "Everyone used to say I was apart of some gang."

Mike snorted. "They're just jealous they're not all cool and mysterious and from L.A."

"I don't know about that," she smiled, as a slip of paper caught her eye.

Mike looked in the same direction and peered at the slip of paper taped to the wall. He moved nearer and as he read, he mouthed, 'the Glist'. Buffy stared.

**1. Quinn +45**

**2. Puck + 43**

**3. Brittany +38**

**4. Finn +35**

**5. Mike +29**

**6. Buffy +11**

**7. Piper +5**

**8. Rachel -5**

The two stared at it with their mouths open.

"What is it?" asked Buffy, staring at her name.

Mike tapped his finger to the words just below the heading. 'Who's Hot - Who's Not'. Buffy scowled.

"That's so offensive!" she said, and tore it down as the students milling about rushed off to their classes.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think your rank should be way higher than six," said Mike.

"Thanks, Mike," sighed Buffy, "But it's still pretty mean. This isn't even all of glee club!"

"Well, whoever made it must not count the others as important," frowned Mike, "Look, I got to get to Math. My dad's gonna kill me if I get another B."

Buffy nodded and scrunched the Glist up in her fist. "See you tonight," she smiled as he walked away.

xxx

Buffy slammed the Glist down on the grand piano.

"What is this?" Mr. Schuester asked, a little disinterested, as Buffy stood before him in the choir room as students passed in the doorway during lunch.

"It's a list ranking the glee members on their hotness," scowled Buffy.

"Buffy, I need to talk to you about that prophecy book you gave Tina," said Mr. Schuester, looking grave.

"What? Didn't you hear me? Glee members crudely ranked by hotness? I ranked sixth with eleven points! I don't actually know how the point system works, but I'm fairly certain that Rachel's minus five is a bad thing."

"Buffy, I'll handle that later. This is important. Are you sure we can trust that book?"

Buffy pouted, but nodded her head. "It's legit."

"Well, Tina found something."

"What?"

"Something about this brethren who would bring the Master the Anointed One."

"I thought the Master was caput? I mean, I killed the Vessel."

"Well, they found another way. The Anointed One... I guess it's some sort of warrior. The prophecy says..." Mr. Schuester licked his lips and looked down at the scribbled ink on the palm of his hand, "'He will rise from the ashes of the five on the night of the septus'."

"Well, we'll be ready whenever that is."

"It's tonight."

"Tonight. Okay. Wait, not okay! It can't be tonight!"

"Tina thinks her calculations are pretty precise."

"They're bad calculations! Bad! I have a really important date!"

"A... date?," Mr. Schuester huffed, "Fine. I'll just jump in my time machine and ask the vampires to postpone their ancient prophecy while you have dinner and a show! Who do you have a date with?"

"Mike!"

"Chang? Pfft," Mr. Schuester made a few unintelligible noises, but Buffy was sure they were disapproving.

"What is wrong with Mike Chang, DAD?"

"Do not call me Dad!" he pointed his finger at her.

"Mike is a great dancer and a good friend and an excellent student-"

"Yes, he excels at the muggle world!"

"Muggle?"

"He wouldn't last a day in your world, Buffy. He wouldn't last tonight. This is no ordinary vampire, and we have to stop him before he reaches the Master."

"But... Mike!"

"Your dating life will just have to be put on hold."

"Like yours?"

Mr. Schuester pursed his lips and looked down. "We all have to make sacrifices," he said quietly, "The dark forces are aligning against us and we have a chance to beat them back. Tonight, we go to battle."

xxx

Buffy yawned and leaned back well into her third hour of 'battle'. Mr. Schuester sniffed beside her and broke the silence.

"Battle, huh?" she asked.

"Maybe Tina miscalculated," sighed Mr. Schuester.

"I'm thinking yes," said Buffy as she pulled her fuzzy leopard sweater around her shoulders.

"Well, you know what they say. Ninety percent of the vampire slaying game is waiting."

"You couldn't have told me that ninety percent ago?"

Mr. Schuester blew warm breath into his hands and rubbed them together, groaning as he stood up from where he'd propped himself up on a headstone. "We've waited long enough."

"Then I can bail? I can go to Breadstix?" asked Buffy, jumping up in excitement.

"Fine," replied Mr. Schuester reluctantly, "But I'm going to assume you're not unaware of how dangerous it can be when you involve yourself with someone who doesn't know about your... condition."

"Mm hm. I promise not to wear my button that says, 'I'm a slayer. Ask me how!' Goodnight!"

xxx

"We're gonna bail."

"Already?" asked Mike.

Mike wasn't used to hanging out with people like Rachel and her Vocal Adrenaline boyfriend, Jesse. They talked a lot about themselves and people Mike didn't know, but hanging out with them in their booth at Breadstix was better than sitting alone and waiting for some girl who stood him up.

"It's getting late. I'm really sorry, Mike," smiled Rachel, "I'm sure Buffy will have a valid explanation, tomorrow. She doesn't do this kind of thing. Never!"

"How long have you known her?" asked Mike.

"A few months..." replied Rachel, "B-But long enough to know she always has a good reason for bailing."

"So she does this a lot...?"

"No. I don't know... Sorry," frowned Rachel.

"Its fine," smiled Mike, "You guys go. I'll probably leave soon, anyways."

"It was nice to meet you," said Jesse.

"Bye," waved Rachel, leading Jesse out of the restaurant.

Mike slumped in the booth as the couple disappeared out the door. Jesse had left some money on the table for his and Rachel's share of the meal. Mike was about to go up with the check when Morgan Ru slid in beside him in her skimpy little Cheerios uniform.

"Dinner for one?" she asked, a smile across her face as she cocked her head to the side like a puppy.

"I was going to meet someone here, actually-"

"They stood you up?"

"Yeah, I guess she did."

"Well, whoever she is, she's crazy. And I couldn't stand to see you here all alone."

"Uh, thanks?"

Buffy slid her leopard sweater off as walked in the door. With a giddy smile on her face, she scanned the tabletops for Mike's head. She caught sight of his face and smiled. Almost waved, even, if it wasn't for Morgan Ru, with her arm slid around his, and her head thrown back in laughter. Buffy's smile fell from her face. Mike chuckled and nodded. They were in conversation. Something funny, and most likely mundane compared to the things Buffy often talked about. But mundane in a good way. Nothing life threatening. And Mike even looked like he was having good time.

Buffy's heart sunk. She turned away before Mike or Morgan could notice her there. Far be it from her to spoil anyone's fun.

xxx

"Where were you last night?" asked Rachel.

The question made Buffy's shoulders slump at the reminder of her failure last night. Her failure to conduct herself as a regular teenage girl. It only made her heart even heavier with the fear that she'll never be able to live life the way she wants to; the way that everyone else seemed to take for granted.

"Patrolling," sighed Buffy, "I told you I'd probably be late."

"Late? The three of us waited for two hours," said Rachel, who zipped her lips as Buffy leaned up against her locker door with a heavy sigh and tired eyes. "Do you want to reschedule?"

"Doesn't matter," sighed Buffy, "He's better off dating someone normal like Morgan Ru anyways."

"What does Morgan Ru have to do with anything?" asked Rachel, slinging her purse over her slight shoulder.

"Nothing, only that she'd probably rank way higher than sixth on the glist if she were still in glee club."

"What are you talking about?" asked Rachel, furrowing her eyebrows.

With a steely expression, Buffy removed a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and shoved it in Rachel's hand. As Rachel's warm brown eyes scanned over the page, her mouth grew into a wide oval of shock.

"Minus five?!" she cried.

"Sorry, Rach," Buffy said, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"This is so degrading! We have to tell someone about this!" Rachel cried, clearly offended by her ranking.

"Mr. Schuester's too busy to do anything about it," Buffy frowned bitterly.

"Well, I'll just have to take matters into my own hands," Rachel said, with a determined look, and squeezed the glist in her hand and she stormed off in her ballet flats.

"What's her deal?"

Buffy turned around, surprised to see Mike standing over her, a green plaid shirt draped over his lanky shoulders.

"Oh, that glist, thing. She's pretty peeved," said Buffy.

Mike nodded as if he understood. "Right. So, how come we missed you last night?"

"Oh, right," Buffy stammered, "I'm really sorry about that, really. Don't think I was standing you up, I just... forgot!"

Mike tried to hold back a smirk. "Rachel assured me you'd have great explanation. Honestly, Buffy, I was expecting something more original."

Buffy grinned up at the tall boy. "You caught me. I was hunting vampires. Lima Cemetery was full of 'em last night. I couldn't tear myself away."

"Now that's the kind of creativity that calls for school arts programs to get better funding," he smiled, wagging a long finger at her.

She shoved him playfully as Rachel popped back by their side.

"Puckerman's denying it," she announced, biting her bottom lip in concentration, "But I'm still not convinced. This is exactly the kind of thing a shallow, juvenile punk like him would get up to."

"I don't know," Mike stepped in, "I mean, Puck's my friend and even I know this is the kind of thing he would do, but if he did, he'd probably own up to it, proudly. That, and he'd make sure he was number one."

Rachel frowned. "That's what he said. Are you covering up for him? Or are you feeling guilty because you're the real culprit?" she asked, stepping invasively close.

"What? No, neither."

"Cut the crap, Chang!"

"Rachel!" hissed Buffy.

Rachel took a deep breath and backed away one step. "Sorry, sorry... I had to choose between good cop and bad cop, and I chose bad cop."

"At least you're good at it..." Mike said nervously.

"Thank you, Michael!" she exclaimed with a wide smile, and skipped off to interrogate her next suspect.

"Sorry about her," smiled Buffy, "She's kind of intense."

"It's cool," Mike breathed, "What's life without a passion? Anyways, I was hoping you'd consider going out with me some night when you're not fighting the forces of darkness. Like tonight."

Buffy couldn't keep a smile from stretching across her face. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it. But this time, how about just the two of us?"

"That sounds awesome."

"Cool. I'll pick you up at eight. That's PM, Eastern Standard Time," he smirked, "I'll even loan you this in case you forget."

Buffy smirked in amusement as Mike strapped a Pokemon watch across her wrist. "That helps," she grinned.

Rachel stormed off through the school corridors, her heels sore in her metallic ballet flats.

"Excuse me," she said, her lips tight in a frown.

"What?" asked Quinn, closing her locker door.

Brittany hovered near her, picking at a broken nail, and Piper Saberhagen stood nearby with both of the girls' backpacks slung around either shoulder.

"Does either of you ladies know what this is?" Rachel said sternly, holding the sheet up in front of Quinn's face.

"A piece of paper," said Quinn, barely glancing at it.

"It's a list, Quinn, ranking the glee club by hotness. And you're number one," Rachel smiled bitterly.

"What am I?" asked Brittany.

"Three," grumbled Rachel, scrunching up the glist in her palm.

"So?" asked Quinn, closing her eyes and sighing in exhaustion.

"So, I want to know who made it!" exclaimed Rachel, "And why I am on the bottom with minus five points!"

Quinn shrugged, unfazed. "I don't know who made it."

"Oh, really?" Rachel asked, squinting at the girl, "Because you happen to be number one not only on the glist, but on my list of suspects. The... slist!"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Or was it you, Piper?" Rachel hollered, shocking Piper as she struggled to heave two backpacks, "You practically worship Quinn. So, what, you thought you'd make a degrading little list on your computer and print it out so everyone in school can see and know that Quinn is still the top dog here at McKinley?"

"I-I-" stammered Piper.

"Or was it you, Brittany?"

"I don't know how to turn on a computer," Brittany said, looking down at her feet.

"Rachel, you're being ridiculous," frowned Quinn, "How do we know you didn't make the stupid list?"

"Why would I interrogate everyone if I was the one who made it?"

"To throw us off your scent! Besides, it makes sense. You have every reason to want to frame me for degrading you or something, and get me into trouble."

"What? No. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. I dated the guy you liked and treated you like crap since I met you. Maybe you hate me."

"I don't hate you! I'm your friend!" Rachel cried defensively.

"Are you? Then why are blaming me for lying to you, Rachel? Did you blame Buffy?"

"...No."

"No. Because you two are friends and you trust her. I'm just a classmate."

Rachel sighed. "No, you're not. You're right. I'm sorry, Quinn, I trust you. I do," she smiled.

Quinn pursed her lips and looked the girl up and down. "Thanks," she mumbled.

xxx

Buffy smiled into the mirror on top of her bedroom armoire. She had a Beyonce song playing in the background as she twirled in front of her closet mirror, her black Betsey Johnson skirt twirling around her. She finally had somewhere to wear it, and she was smiling ear to ear in anticipation for her night with Mike. She was just happy to start feeling like a real high school girl. One who went on dates and had free time. And maybe sometime after tonight she and Mike can go on double date with Rachel and Jesse like they had planned before. Maybe if they won Nationals, they could go on a celebration date. Maybe they could even go to prom together.

Buffy shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. She just couldn't help herself from getting so giddy. She was going on a date! Tonight! With Mike! Wasn't that just so? And she was still wearing his chunky plastic Pokemon watch. It was 7:53. She made sure her purse was full of the essentials - lip gloss, house keys, wallet, stake. She paused from shuffling through her handbag when the doorbell rang. She ran downstairs, wobbling a little in her heels, and took a calming breath before she whipped the door open.

"Mr. Schuester," she frowned, her shoulder slumping.

"Sorry to disappoint," Mr. Schuester said sarcastically, "We need to talk."

"Buffy's not home," she smiled, and tried to close the door, fearful of what was coming next, but Mr. Schuester held out his arm and stopped her.

"Tina's calculations weren't as far off as we thought," he said, walking into her house with a newspaper article at the ready.

"Can you keep it down, though? My mom is taking a nap upstairs," said Buffy as Mr. Schuester held the newspaper up to her face, making her read the bold headline, "Five Die in Van Accident."

"From the ashes of five shall rise the one," repeated Mr. Schuester, "That's the prophecy! Five people have died!"

"In a car crash."

"I know it doesn't quite follow, but it's worth investigating. Look! One of the passengers who died was a guy named Andrew Borba, who was wanted for questioning for a double murder. He might be the Anointed One! The bodies have been taken to Lima Funeral Home, we can-"

"Will, why do want to hurt me?" asked Buffy.

"Huh?" asked Mr. Schuester, taken off guard.

Buffy blinked as a figure appeared the doorway. Mike ducked his head under and came in with the hint of a smile on his lips, his tall lanky frame standing before them.

"Hey," he smiled, eyeing Mr. Schuester.

"You have a date..." Will realized aloud.

"Yes, but I will learn those steps by Thursday, I promise!" Buffy smiled.

"Wait, you're not getting off the easily!" said Will as Buffy tugged his arm towards the front door.

"Man, you really take your job seriously," breathed Mike.

"Mike, do you mind waiting in your car? I'll be out in just a sec!" she smiled.

Mike nodded and headed out again to his father's Honda Civic.

"Another date? Don't you ever do anything else?" asked Mr. Schuester, peeved, when Mike was out of earshot.

"This is the first date! There's never been a date!" hissed Buffy, "This is my maiden voyage! I haven't had a break in so long, Will! And, a cranky slayer is a careless slayer."

"Buffy," Will sighed, "Maintaining a normal social life as a slayer... it just doesn't work out!"

"This is the 21st century! I can do both! Clark Kent has a job. I just want to go on a date."

Will sighed, defeated. "I suppose it was a pretty slim lead."

"Thank you thank you thank you! I won't go far, I promise. And hey, if the apocalypse comes, tweet me!"

xxx

"'Cedes, tell me the truth. We're not like other kids, are we?"

Mercedes only shook her head of bouncy curls and chuckled as she peered out of the window of her best friend's black SUV.

"Definitely not. I'm starting to feel like a creeper. We should go," she replied.

"And do what?" asked Kurt, rolling his glasz eyes to the sky, "We've tried pretty much everything on the Breadstix menu, and I don't want to go back into town because I heard the Titans are planning to throw eggs at people."

Mercedes scowled. "I still think this is weird."

"Nonsense. A lot of people go people-watching at the park."

"But this isn't people, it's Mr. Schuester, and I think we're being creepy."

Kurt sighed. "Mercedes, it's not like we're going to follow him into his home and stab him in the shower, Psycho-style. We 're just seeing where he's going at this time of night, and when he reaches his destination, which is most likely his apartment or some sort of bar to drown his sorrows in, we'll leave!"

Mercedes sat back in the passenger's seat of the parked car and pouted as they watched Mr. Schuester sidle down the street in the night's darkness.

"You just want to get into trouble," she muttered.

"What?" asked Kurt, distracted.

"Don't front, boy, you know that there's a chance Mr. Schue is heading to do some slayer business, and you want to get caught in the middle of the trouble."

"Mercedes," Kurt laughed, incredulous, "That's ridiculo-"

"Kurt!" she snapped.

Kurt frowned, figured out. "Fine. Maybe I wanted to do something exciting for once. I mean, they never ask our help with this kind of stuff!"

"Kurt, the thought of chipping a nail makes you break a sweat. Buffy probably thinks you don't want to have to do this kind of stuff."

"I know, I know. I'm not denying that vampires and zombies and stuff make my porcelain complexion turn an unflattering shade of olive green, but once in a while it would be nice to at least be asked for my services. You know how it is. We're never in the loop, Mercedes. Even Rachel Berry doesn't slum it with us anymore because she's practically a super hero."

"I wouldn't go that far," Mercedes raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean, though. She's valuable to them. She's always there to help. And Tina's pretty much a genius with that kind of stuff. They depend on her. Even Quinn Fabray has the power of witchcraft on her side-"

"And to think I didn't even know how right I was when I used to call her a witch. Or worse than that-"

"It just sucks to feel useless. No one even notices."

Mercedes paused a moment, looking thoughtful. "Is this about the glist?"

"We weren't even on it, Mercedes! Even if I ranked last, it would be something, but we were completely disregarded!"

"I know," Mercedes frowned quietly.

"And you'd think being absent from the list completely would be reason enough for Rachel to interrogate us, but no..." Kurt trailed off, irritated, until he looked out of his window, into the night, "Where did Mr. Schuester go?"

"Into the funeral home," Mercedes nodded her head.

The two watched a moment in silence. The streetlights were out and the night was so still that even the smallest of movements caught their eye.

"Who's that?" Mercedes hissed as they spotted a figure, followed by another few. Broad shouldered, with an arrogant swagger, the dark shadows made Mercedes' skin crawl.

Kurt kept his eyes glued to them as they strode into the funeral home. "Were those...?" he trailed off before he could finish the question, meeting his friend's eyes, their expressions matching in equal amounts of anxiety and uncertainty.

"We should get Buffy," said Mercedes, a shiver in her spine like a warning signal.

xxx

Buffy nibbled at the end of a breadstick. For a place called Breadstix, they weren't too good. Stale and bland, but maybe that was just the effect of her nervous, tumbling stomach.

"How's your pasta?" asked Mike, smiling awkwardly from across the table.

"Great!" exclaimed Buffy, "Meatballs, yum."

Mike nodded. "I don't come here a lot."

"No?"

"There's a dim sum place at the other side of town. I go there a lot with my mom."

"Oh yeah? Cool," Buffy nodded, smiling a little too widely.

"Yeah," sighed Mike.

"Do you spend a lot of time with your mom?" she asked.

Mike nodded. "I guess so. She likes to bring me to dim sum once a week, just the two of us."

"What about your dad?"

"He doesn't go out a lot."

Buffy nodded, her eyes wandering around the restaurant looking for something to say. She'd been so excited for the date, her heart was aflutter with nerves, but now that she was here, she was waiting for it to be over. They had already talked about school, glee club, weather and music. She wasn't sure what else to say. Normally she could be so talkative.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked up in surprise, her mind having to work a moment before she acknowledged the familiar face.

"Santana!" Buffy exclaimed, alarmed. She wasn't used to seeing Santana under any light. She had to remind herself it was an artificial one.

Santana looked sickly pale, her maroon eyes shining brightly in comparison to her pallid skin. Her hair was still as rich and glossy as ever, swept into a high ponytail.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your date," she smiled down at Mike.

"Santana Lopez? I thought you moved away," said Mike.

"Mm," replied Santana, "My dad had to make a trip down here for the day. For business. So I tagged along."

"Isn't your dad a doctor?" asked Mike.

"House call," Santana said quickly, "Anyways, Buffy, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute. It won't take long."

"Sure," said Buffy, sliding out of her booth, eager for the interruption, as Santana lead her away, "I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Santana waved away, "But we need to talk about you."

"What? Why? Where have you been all this time? Are you still living at your house, with Quinn?"

Santana sighed, exasperated. "Yeah, but I'm only really home during the day. It was kind of aggravating, having nothing to do, but I started hanging out at demon bars."

"Demon bars...?" asked Buffy.

"The forces of darkness need recreation, too, slayer. But that's not the point. I hear a lot of things."

"Things like what...?" asked Buffy, eyeing around them as if someone was listening in.

"Something's going down tonight, and you need to be there for it."

Buffy groaned. "Not you, too."

"What have you heard?"

"Oh, prophecy, Anointed One, yada yada yada."

"So you know," said Santana, frowning, "I just came to warn you."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Buffy, this is your job," said Santana, annoyed as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Well, I'm on a break!"

"Sorry, Buff, but the creatures of the night don't take any breaks, unless it's to swill some yak urine and eat a couple kittens."

Buffy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I don't think these demon bars are a good influence on you."

Santana pursed her lips.

"Mike is waiting for me," pleaded Buffy.

"Have it your way, Killer," Santana pouted, and strutted away, flipping her hair, leaving Buffy with a disheartened frown on her face.

"What was all that about?" asked Mike, appearing at her side.

Buffy smiled reassuringly. "Just catching up quick before she leaves town again."

"I didn't know you two were friends."

"It's a love hate relationship. Anyway, do you want to finish dinner?"

Mike nodded, but before the two could return to their booth, they bumped into a few more familiar faces.

"Buffy!" cried Kurt, rushing to her side with Mercedes at his.

"What are you guys doing here?" asked Buffy.

"We have to get to-"

Mercedes elbowed him hard in the side as her eyes locked on Mike.

"...uh, we thought it'd be fun if we made this a double date," smiled Kurt, wrapping his arms around Mercedes.

Buffy pursed her lips. "I didn't know you guys were seeing each other," she remarked skeptically.

"Oh, yeah. We knew it would happen eventually so we thought, hey, why fight it?" grinned Mercedes.

"I thought you were gay...?" asked Mike.

"I'm experimenting," Kurt said quickly.

"And you guys are thinking double...?" said Mike.

"'Cause of the fun!" exclaimed Kurt, "Maybe we should go somewhere together."

"Gee, that's so nice of you to ask, but Mike and I were sort of, well, Mike and I-" explained Buffy.

"You know what would be cool?" Kurt asked quickly, "The Lima Funeral Home!"

"I've always wanted to go there," said Mercedes, smiling knowingly at Buffy.

"The... funeral home?" she repeated, catching on quickly.

"That's pretty... unconventional," said Mike, side-eyeing Buffy's friends.

"Well, we saw some guys going in. They seemed to be having fun," Kurt stared at Buffy.

"Bite me," Buffy said to herself under her breath, and sighed, "Mike, I gotta go."

"What, to the funeral home?" Mike raised an eyebrow, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'll be back in a little while," Buffy pleaded with her round eyes.

Mike sighed, and leaned in close to her. "Buffy, what's going on? Are you trying to ditch me?"

"No! It's... It's just something I have to do. I will come back, though, I promise!"

Mike nodded reluctantly, and watched his date disappear with her friends.

"She's the strangest girl," he mumbled to himself.

xxx

"Which way?" asked Buffy.

"We didn't see where they went," said Kurt, as the three of them strode hastily through the halls of the Lima Funeral Home.

Buffy's heart thumped against her chest. Thoughts of embarrassment and irritation of having to leave her date with Mike was drowned out with worry for Will Schuester. The silence was killing her. She was uncertain whether it was a good sign or not.

"Buffy?"

"Mike!"

Buffy spun around to see her date bumbling through the darkness.

"You can't be here!" she cried, sprinting up to him as he made his way through the entrance.

"And I suppose you guys are allowed?" Mike asked, skeptical, "I try not to believe the rumors about you, Buffy. That you're in a gang and you're dangerous... But it's pretty obvious that you and your friends do some reckless things to get in trouble. I'm here to talk you out of it."

"I so don't have time for this," Buffy wrinkled her brow in desperation, "Guys, watch him."

She brushed passed Mike and searched on throughout the funeral home with just her cell phone screen as a flashlight. With Mike, Kurt and Mercedes far behind, Buffy stumbled into a cold, metal room with a bunch of big, square drawers in the wall. She shivered. She'd seen enough episodes of CSI to know that this was the morgue, and in those drawers, were the bodies. You'd think wandering graveyards every night would have desensitized her.

"Will?" she called out quietly, her voice wavering.

Her eyes scanned the dimly lit room, her whole body shivering at the touch of the cold metal walls. Suddenly, she jumped back in fright as one of the drawers opened, the metal slab with the dead body sliding out, Mr. Schuester on top of it.

"Will!" she called, surprised to see him crammed in the hole in the wall with a corpse.

"It's you. Good," he wrinkled his nose and raised his head off the dead body.

"What happened?" asked Buffy, breathing heavily.

"One of the Master's minions came after me. But I was more than a match for them," he assured her.

"Meaning?"

"I hid."

He hoisted himself off of the corpse and hopped down to the ground, his waistcoat wrinkled and his curly hair a mess.

"Were they after you or that prophecy thing?"

"That's what we have to find out," said Mr. Schuester, catching his breath, "I don't know what the minions want to do with the Anointed One. Find him and... Give him something, maybe? It's all pretty vague, and the Anointed One might be gone by now."

"But he might not be."

"We should find out."

"Okay. I just need to get Mike and the others out of harm's way first."

"Mike? You brought your date?" asked Mr. Schuester, irritation rising in his voice.

"I didn't bring him," Buffy sighed, "He came."

"Buffy, when I said you could slay vampires and have a social life, I didn't mean at the same time."

"I know. I'll get rid of him."

"But you can't make him leave alone; we don't know where the minions are. I'll just take-"

"No, Will, if he sees you he'll just have more questions then he already does right now. I'll take care of it."

Buffy sprinted out of the door before Mr. Schuester could open his mouth in protest, bumping into Mike, Kurt and Mercedes at the end of the hall.

"Is everything okay?" asked Mercedes.

"It is."

"So we can leave?" asked Kurt.

"What did you come for?" asked Mike.

"To, uh, to find a nice, safe, fun room to look around in," said Buffy, clutching Mike's hand and leading him through the house of corpses.

Sometimes, Buffy had to throw her head back and laugh at her life. Laughter is better than tears, and Buffy had to at least attempt to see the humor of going on a date and ending up shoving her date and her friends into an empty room of a funeral home and leaving them there. She scanned the small office, as if checking for any sharp objects, but everything looked safe. Normal. Something her life would never be. Sometimes she struggled to see the humor.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she lied, and winked at her friends, "If you hear anything, like a security guard or something, just be really quiet. And barricade the door."

Kurt closed the office door behind her as she skipped out with haste, and he and Mercedes immediately began shoving the desk in front of the door as Mike furrowed his brow, sorry that he ever got himself into this bizarre situation.

"What are you guys doing?" he asked.

"Just in case!" Mercedes smiled, struggling to be convincing.

As Buffy's weird cohorts barricaded the door, Mike searched the dim room for a light switch so that he could at least see the trouble he was in. His hands trailed against the wall, looking for a switch, but instead he found a dangling tassel. Maybe it's a lamp, he thought, but he was wrong. As he pulled the tassel, a curtain lifted until it was all the way up, and he was gaping at a glass wall with a room behind it, containing a metal table with a cloth draped over it.

"Oh my God," he breathed, "I've never seen a dead body before."

Kurt and Mercedes went silent, their hands falling to their sides. Mike couldn't take his eyes from the cold, corpse arm fallen out from under the cloth and hanging off the table, its fingers twitching.

"Do they usually move?"

The three of them heard their heartbeats pounding like drums in their ears as the body rose, throwing the cloth off of himself. Kurt gulped at the face. It was like one from his nightmares. Wrinkled and fanged with those piercing yellow irises. The vampire smiled at them as he stood up, smug with his transformation.

"What's going on?" asked Mike, surprised he could make any sound escape from his throat.

Kurt and Mercedes didn't answer but backed away as the vampire stepped closer. The vamp thrust forward, head-butting the glass wall. Mike jumped back as the glass shattered instantly.

xxx

Buffy and Mr. Schuester looked through drawer to drawer in the small funeral home morgue, but oddly enough, Lima was low on corpses.

"Keep looking. He must be here somewhere," said Mr. Schue, trying to at least convince himself that they would find the Anointed One.

They sighed in defeat as the opened the last ones to no avail.

"He must be gone," Mr. Schuester sighed, crestfallen.

"I guess. I mean, this is where they keep all the dead bodies, right?" Buffy asked.

Mr. Schuester shrugged, disappointed, when Buffy heard the sound of shattered glass.

"Oh, no," she groaned.

xxx

Mike, Kurt and Mercedes put all their strength and speed into throwing the furniture away from the exit as the vampire lifted himself through the now open threshold between the two rooms, smiling sinisterly and walking towards them as they escaped through the door, as if he had all the time in the world. The three ran through the halls, their hearts audible as they pounded painfully, when they bumped into Buffy, a beacon of safety.

"He's in there," Kurt cried.

"Go, get out!" Buffy cried as she ran passed them.

"Buffy, no!" Mike called out, but Kurt held him back before he could lunge after her.

"She'll be okay," he said, and the three of them ran to the entrance until Mercedes screamed and stopped in her tracks.

A vampire leered at them from behind the glass entrance door, a terrible grin upon his face. They sped off in the other direction.

"This is too much," Mike cried, "Somebody's got to help Buffy."

Mercedes and Kurt called him back desperately, but he was gone.

xxx

"What do you got?" asked Buffy, breathless and in a hurry, startling Mr. Schuester who was sitting in the morgue.

"Wh-What..?" he simply said with a dumbfounded expression, startled.

"A stake! Great!" she cried as she took a weapon from Will's duffel bag.

"What will I do?" he called as she rushed back to the door.

"Go outside and make sure the others are safe," she said, and backed into the door, until a vampire appeared behind her, grabbing her from behind and throwing her across the room and into the wall of drawers with a clatter.

Mr. Schuester stood stick straight and snapped his head to the vamp. He clenched his jaw and squinted at the face. Even wrinkled and fanged, he could make it out as Andrew Borba. The Anointed One. Mr. Schuester reached for a cross in his duffel and held it up to Andrew.

"They told me about you when I was sleeping," he sneered, and knocked Mr. Schuester's cross right out his hand with a quick slap, hoisting the man up by the lapel of his waistcoat and throwing him.

Mr. Schuester hit the wall, his back pressing a button that made the cremation oven start up in its man sized hole in the wall. Andrew leaned down and grabbed Buffy, lifting her into the air as her feet dangled above the floor.

"Buffy!" cried Mike, who ran in and grabbed a silver tray from the table, ramming it into Andrew's back.

Andrew groaned in pain and let go of Buffy who went falling to the floor. Andrew whipped around and clutched Mike by the throat, baring his teeth and nearing to Mike's thin neck. Breathless, Mike clutched an urn and smashed it on Andrew's head, his hair full of ashes as he collapsed on the floor. Mike coughed and rubbed his throat as he walked over to Buffy and offered his hand.

"Did you see that? He tried to bite me!" Mike exclaimed as he lifted Buffy from the ground, "What a sissy."

Buffy would've stopped to appreciate the humor if her mind had been elsewhere, but the only thing she could think of doing was shouting, "Watch out!" as Andrew Borba rose again and slammed a metal drawer door against the back of Mike's head, knocking the life out of his eyes. He smirked as he held Mike's limp body up by the collar of his polo.

"Dead," he pronounced with a gleeful grin, "He was found wanting."

Buffy's eyes trailed over Mike's unconscious body on the floor. She clenched her jaw and sent a powerful kick square into Andrew Borba's meaty chest.

"You killed my date!" she cried in anger as she jabbed at him. She punched vigorously, Andrew only able to block a few. She knocked him back into a counter.

"Your turn!" he snarled, and lunged at her.

Buffy ducked, and Andrew landed face first on the metal table, which slid him right into the cremation fire. Mr. Schuester closed it behind him as his screams of agony escaped. A feeling of hopelessness bubbled up into Buffy's throat as she looked down at Mike, until suddenly he stirred, and clutched his aching head.

"Does anyone have an Aspirin?" he asked, his eyes clenched.

"Mike," Buffy sighed in relief, kneeling beside him with sad smile on her face.

"What happened to that guy?" asked Mike, trying to sit up with his throbbing head wound.

"We scared him away," smiled Buffy.

"Oh, good, 'cause I would have-"

"I know."

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and lifted him up.

"I'm sure this isn't exactly what you had in mind for a first date," said Buffy.

"Yeah... I was hoping maybe we'd finish up with Ben & Jerry's."

"We still could."

"No... I think I'll just walk home," he said, clutching his head, "Which way's home?"

"I'll get you there."

"No. I'll go it alone."

"I'll make sure he gets home safely," said Mr. Schuester, clutching Mike's elbow and leading him away.

The hopelessness bubbled back into Buffy's throat as her watcher disappeared with her date. She couldn't even fathom finding the humor in it.


	14. The Grudge

**Chapter 14**

**The Grudge**

Buffy twiddled her thumbs at her locker in the morning. Students milled around her, but she'd kept her eyes open for Mike. She was angry at herself for ruining things with such ease. She didn't even need to try.

"Buffy?"

Buffy turned, snapping out of her thoughts of hopelessness, and looked up to find Mike looking down at her with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Mike," she simply said, unsure of how to explain herself.

"So. Last night was..."

"Awful. I'm really sorry," she looked down.

Mike sighed. "I really like you Buffy," he said, surprising her, "I mean, you're cool, and it'd be pretty cool to get to know you. Nice, cool people are surprisingly hard to find. But... I mean, yesterday was really weird."

"I know," sighed Buffy.

"I mean, a lot of people seem to say you're all dangerous and mysterious and you like to get into trouble, and I guess that's kind of true, but I don't think I can date someone who hangs out in funeral homes for fun."

"Right. It's a little morbid."

"It's not that. I mean, I've dated girls who are really into Dickinson and interested in death and stuff, which is cool and all, but I don't want to have to worry about all the danger and drama."

Buffy nodded, looking at the ground. "So we should stop dating?"

Mike sighed. "I wouldn't mind dating you, Buffy, as long as you stop getting into that kind of trouble."

Buffy looked up at him and smiled sweetly, knowing there was no hope. "I can't do that, Mike. I'm sorry, but I'm a rebel without a cause. Me and my friends have a passion for danger. You're really great... but I don't want to give that up."

Mike nodded in disappointment. "I understand. I mean, I don't, but it's cool anyways. Besides, my parents have been pressuring to date an Asian girl."

"Alright," Buffy chewed on the inside of her cheek, the cogs in her mind dusting themselves off and turning. "Can you do me a favor, though?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't date Morgan Ru."

"Huh?"

"There isn't a lot of ethnic diversity in this town, and the pickings for an Asian girl are probably pretty slim, so I know if you had to date anyone, the natural choice would be Morgan Ru, right? She's pretty and totally high on the high school food chain."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But I don't think she's your girl, Mike. I know it's none of my business, but I think you'd prefer someone with less drama, more brains. Someone introspective, and fun, but responsible. And you said you liked shy girls, right?"

"Right?"

"So, let me introduce you to someone you might like."

xxx

"Tina!"

Tina looked up from the book she'd buried her nose in. She was a bit startled by Buffy's voice, afraid that maybe she was about to be reprimanded for taking a break from decrypting the pergamum codex, but she could see a hopeful smile plastered across Buffy's face as she pulled Mike Chang into the choir room.

"Yes?" she answered, hiding her mouth behind the book and peering at Mike.

"I want you to meet someone," she said, gesturing to Mike with a flourish as if he was a present for all her hard work.

"I know Mike," Tina replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know Mike! And Mike knows you! And you two have a lot in common!"

Tina peered at Buffy suspiciously from behind her book.

"Like what?" asked Mike.

Buffy searched her mind and frowned. "Okay, maybe you have nothing in common, but maybe that's a good thing," she pushed Mike down into a chair beside Tina, "That way, Tina, you can give Mike a bunch of book recommendations and, Mike, you can teach Tina a few dance steps to build her confidence in glee club."

"Buffy, what are you-?" said Tina.

"I'll leave you two alone."

Buffy slipped out of the door leaving an awkward Mike with a blushing Tina.

"So... you're friends with Buffy?" asked Mike, his eyes swiveling around the room.

Tina nodded. "I thought you were dating her."

Mike shook his head. "We just went to Breadstix once."

The two shared an awkward silence.

"Do you like Breadstix?" asked Mike.

Tina shrugged. "Not really."

"Me neither. There's not much else in Lima, though, is there?"

Tina thought a moment. "Do you like dim sum?"

Mike widened his eyes and looked at Tina. "I love dim sum."

xxx

"Will you look at them!" exclaimed Rachel.

She peered with her back to a row of lockers, a giddy smile on her face.

"Look at who?" asked Quinn, who checked her hair in the miniature mirror she'd taped into the inside of her locker.

"Mike and Tina!" said Rachel, nodding to the couple down the hall who went hand in hand, making moon eyes at each other, "They're adorable."

"Are my roots showing?" asking Quinn, ducking her head.

"No," Rachel waved her away, "Buffy set them up, you know. I never would have even thought to put those two together, but they just look so in love."

Quinn clenched her jaw. "Everyone has someone," she said coldly, and shut her locker door, and hand over her ever growing stomach. It was quite big now, Rachel noted, and Quinn wrapped her hands around it whenever she seemed blue.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Rachel," the girl said, brushing her blond hair behind her ear.

Rachel looked down at the linoleum tiles and thought a moment. "I suppose you assume I forgot about the glist by now," she said.

"Haven't you?" asked Quinn, irritated.

"Yeah, I have. I'm over it, you could say. It's only a piece of paper. So, now that I really don't care about it..."

"What?"

"It's not like the culprit will get into any trouble. I mean, I won't tell."

Quinn didn't reply, but lathered her lips in gloss and clutched her backpack.

"Let me carry that," said Rachel, taking her bag with a smile.

"Thanks," Quinn said, uncomfortable.

"Quinn... do you understand what I'm saying?"

Quinn nodded. "Sure. Let's get to class."

"Quinn, wait," said Rachel, speaking in a hushed voice, "I know you're behind the glist."

Quinn clenched her jaw. "This again? Rachel, you have no proof. I can't believe you keep trying to pin this on me. I thought we were friends, but if you don't want to be, fine. Everything else has been taken from me. My popularity. My body. Might as well throw away friendship."

Rachel looked down sadly. "It takes years to build a good reputation. But only seconds to destroy it. A couple mistakes and you go from the top to the bottom," Rachel's voice wavered, "You have lost so much, Quinn. Which means you had the most to gain from the glist."

As Rachel peered at Quinn, she noticed she was holding her lips tightly together, and her eyes down low, as if she was trying to stop herself from tearing up.

"I never meant to hurt anybody's feelings," Quinn whispered as the students around them pushed past her and disappeared into class.

"I know."

Quinn chuckled through tears. "I was captain of the cheerleading squad. Of the celibacy club. I had Finn. People would part like the Red Sea when I walked down the hallway. Now I'm invisible."

Rachel shook her head. "And you think being seen as some cheap beauty queen is better?"

"It's better than no reputation at all."

Rachel sighed. "High school feels like our whole lives right now. I know. But I always hold on to the fact that it's going to end. You're gonna give that baby to a family that really wants it, who will really love it, and then you are going to go on to do amazing things, Quinn."

A tear slipped down Quinn's cheek. "You really think that I can get it all back one day?" she asked.

"No. I think you can do better. I mean, you're Quinn Fabray. Those people didn't just part through the halls, you moved them. I know. I was one of them, and you moved me, and you still do. There's more than one kind of magic in you."

Quinn smiled sadly, blinking tears out of her eyes. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not."

"You are, Rachel. You don't know me. Not really. I'm not as good a person as you think I am. I can't help it."

"You can, Quinn. I see a lot of potential in you. And I would know because I have a lot of potential, too."

Quinn laughed. "Thanks. I just think you'd be better off without a friend like me."

Rachel shook her head. "We can be great friends, Quinn. We just need to build trust, and honesty. And since you've been so honest with me, I'm going to tell you a secret. But you have to promise not to tell the other guys in glee. Only Buffy and Tina know."

Quinn nodded, interested.

"I'm dating a member of Vocal Adrenaline."

"...What?"

"His name is Jesse St. James. Ugh, he's so smart and handsome, and he knows all about Broadway-"

Quinn blinked, openly surprised. "But... don't you like Finn?"

Rachel's smile faltered. "Well, I did. But now I have Jesse."

"_Jesse_? I broke up with Finn..." Quinn started to say, "And I thought you were going to date him."

Rachel shook her head. "Oh, well."

"No, not oh well. One of the main reasons I broke up with Finn..." she trailed off.

Rachel furrowed her brow. "What? So that I could have him?"

"No!" said Quinn, "So that... I don't know. If I had to break his heart, at least someone could be there for him. And you're not there for him, are you?"

"Well, we haven't spoken much..."

Quinn scowled, annoyed. "Because you're with _Jesse_."

"I don't know what you're getting annoyed, Quinn. You're being irrational. I don't have an obligation to date your ex-boyfriend."

"You wanted to when I had him!"

"And? You didn't tell him the truth for my benefit!"

Quinn grimaced. "Maybe people like us can't be friends."

"Quinn-"

"No, it's true, Rachel. I just... I don't want to be your friend."

Rachel's heart dropped a little as Quinn took her backpack out of Rachel's hand and walked away with it slung around her shoulder. Quinn could almost feel Rachel's miserable gaze on her back, but she kept from looking behind her or running back and apologizing. She didn't know if it was really Rachel she was helping, but Quinn knew it wasn't good for them to be friends. It just wasn't something she could do so easily; be one of the girls.

She had a lot of the feelings she had she couldn't rationalize. Why was she so upset that she was dating Jesse St. James instead of Finn? Maybe because it was Jesse St. James, off all people. On the other hand, she almost felt as if Finn was some present she had given to Rachel, that she rejected. And if Finn was good enough for Quinn, why wasn't she good enough for Rachel? She shook her head and cursed herself out for searching for approval through Rachel. Why her? she asked herself, Why Man Hands Berry? Or was Quinn just always searching for approval, from anyone.

She shook as the bell rang through the halls. Had she missed a whole class? She made sure she'd wiped all the tears from her face so that no one would suspect she'd been crying. As her fellow students milled around without a second glance, she peered at a poster on the wall. A big orange rectangle asked students to vote for this year's May Queen. She sighed and stared at the little cartoon silhouette on the poster, of a girl in a ball gown, twirling with glee. Quinn longed to be her. She seemed so carefree.

"Hey, Quinn," smiled Buffy, gingerly standing at the girl's side, and following her gaze to the poster, "May Queen. You running?"

Quinn smiled and shook her head. "They don't tend to elect teen moms."

Buffy shrugged. "You could always try. I wouldn't want that slimy Morgan Ru to get the crown."

Quinn chuckled. "You would think that Morgan Ru would win, because she's so popular. Maybe for homecoming. But something about the May Queen election makes people want to vote for someone simple. All-American. I would have gotten it for sure... But this year, it'll probably be Brittany."

Buffy looked at Quinn for a few seconds before saying, "Quinn, don't worry about May Queen. It's just a shallow popularity contest. You're better than that. You're smart!"

"Look where all my intelligence got me," Quinn sighed.

Buffy groaned internally as Morgan Ru came there way with a colorful box of chocolates, flanked by a horde of cheerleaders.

"Buffy Summers," she greeted with a conniving smile, "Are you voting for May Queen?"

"Wasn't planning on it," Buffy replied, making Morgan laugh to her friends.

"That's so you! So, I heard you dated Mike Chang."

Buffy nodded. "Just for one date-"

"And then you had to break it off with him because of your dangerous lifestyle?"

"Uh. Well, technically-"

"And now he's dating that Goth freak in glee club. Tracy or something."

"Tina. And she's not freak; she's a really nice-"

"Anyways, I know high school functions are sooo irrelevant to you because you're a rebel and everything, but I'd still really appreciate your vote," she smiled sweetly and handed her a chocolate with a big M on it.

"M for Morgan?" Buffy said, looking down at it.

"No, M for Wilma. Of course, M for Morgan, dummy," she smiled and looked back at her friends, "She's so funny."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"This way, people will associate me with something sweet," continued Morgan, who turned her head and looked Quinn up and down, "Here, have a chocolate, Quinn - oh wait, I don't think I need the Sixteen and Pregnant vote."

She and her cohorts cackled as they walked away.

"Was that her being nice to me?" asked Buffy.

"In her mind, it was probably more kindness than you deserve," Quinn smirked.

"But why?"

"You dated a football guy. That in itself is impressive, but also that you dumped him. And now this dangerous and mysterious thing you got going on is actually working for you."

"She's so... shallow."

"I used to be her. I wish I still was."

"What? That's dumb. She's a total lemming."

"You wouldn't understand. Popularity is an addiction. And I have an addictive personality."

"I understand. Maybe not the addictive personality part, but I used to be popular. Back in L.A."

Quinn looked at Buffy as if only just noticing her. "Yeah... That makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're pretty, you have a nice style and you have that sort of charisma and confidence that only someone who's been popular has. You must have always been popular."

"Yeah, I was..." sighed Buffy, "I mean, until I started slaying. Now everyone thinks I'm just the freak girl with the broken home. And a gang member."

Quinn smirked. "Yeah. Sorry about starting that rumor, by the way."

"That was you?"

Buffy was cut short as the girls heard a rush of alarmed voices coming from the end of the hallway. Paramedics rolled around the corner, slowly rolling Dave Karofsky down on a stretcher.

"Dave! What happened?" asked Quinn as the paramedics pushed him past them. Quinn and Buffy strode down along his stretcher, keeping up the steady pace.

"I don't know," groaned Dave, "I heard something in the locker room... I tried to grab a bat... it hit me."

"What hit you?" urged Buffy.

"The bat, by itself. The thing was floating. It knocked me out," he said, before the paramedics wheeled him out of the school.

Quinn and Buffy shared a perplexed look.

"This can't be good," muttered Buffy as he was carted away into an ambulance, "I'm gonna check out the scene."

Buffy whipped around and made her way to the boys' locker room. It was empty at this time of day; cold and ominous, and it smelled like feet. She couldn't hear anything but her own footsteps on the tiled floor, but she saw a bat lying innocently between two rows of lockers. She kicked it with the tip of her leather boots, but it just rolled over lifelessly. A plain, wooden baseball bat. As Buffy looked up beneath her bangs, something caught her eye. A shock of white against the bright red door of one locker in a row. All the doors were ajar, but as she closed them one by one, the spray painted whiteness spelled something.

LOOK

xxx

"Look? That's all it said?"

Rachel and Tina gaped at Buffy for information as they walked out of school into the rapidly emptying parking lot.

"Look at what?" asked Rachel, "At Dave?"

As much as the glee clubbers resented the footballers, Dave was still a classmate, and the scoobies were beyond wigged.

"Maybe. All I know is that it's a message," Buffy shrugged, "And monsters don't usually send messages. It's usually crush, kill, destroy."

"You're right," frowned Tina.

"I love it when you say that," Buffy smiled smugly.

"It's a puzzle," said Rachel, as the three girls paused in the parking lot to watch the students flood out, "I've never heard of someone being attacked by a lone baseball bat before."

"Maybe it's a vampire bat," Tina tried to contain a smile.

Rachel and Buffy stared. "Was that a joke?" asked Rachel.

"Tina, did you just make a funny?" asked Buffy.

Tina blushed. "Y-Yes," she said uncertainly.

"Good one," Rachel smiled approvingly.

Tina grinned gratefully. "Anyways, there's probably some research due, huh?"

Buffy nodded. "Maybe someone with telekinesis. Um... or some sort of invisible thing...?"

"A poltergeist," said Tina.

"A ghost?" asked Rachel.

Tina nodded. "A vengeful spirit."

"I'll say," said Buffy, "It was a real scene."

"If it's a ghost, then we're talking about a dead person," said Rachel.

"I guess so," Buffy replied, "Why don't you compile a list of dead or missing kids?"

Rachel nodded.

"And Tina," said Buffy.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to find out about Dave. This attack wasn't random."

"How am I supposed to find out about Dave?"

"Talk to his friends. Azimio. Morgan."

"Morgan?" asked Tina, "I have to talk to Morgan Ru?"

"You can do it, Tina," Buffy smiled encouragingly.

Tina looked uneasy as a black SUV pulled up in the school parking lot.

"Well, ladies, I would love to continue, but my ride is here," Rachel smiled smugly.

"That's your ride?" asked Buffy, surprised.

Rachel nodded. "It's Jesse's parents' car."

"Wow," gawked Buffy, "But, look up those missing kids tonight, okay?"

"Sure, Buffy," Rachel smiled and waved as she sauntered away into Jesse's car.

"Hello," he smiled playfully with his eyes on the road, pulling out of the parking lot as she buckled her seat belt, "How are you? I heard about what happened at school today."

Rachel looked to her side quickly. "You did?"

Jesse nodded. "I saw an ambulance coming from the school and asked what happened. Apparently a student was beaten?"

"Oh," she sighed, "Yes. Dave Karofsky. A bully."

"Do you think it was some sort of payback crime?"

"I don't know. It was awful, though."

"I'm sure," Jesse side-eyed Rachel as he drove, "His parents must be going through so much worry. I couldn't even imagine."

"Mine would be a wreck," Rachel nodded.

"Speaking of parents, it's probably time we meet each others."

A smile escaped Rachel's plump lips. "Really? You want me to meet your parents?"

"Yes, of course. I could bring you over for dinner to meet my parents... and then I could come over one day to meet your mom and dad."

"Actually, I have two dads," Rachel corrected with a smirk, "I'm sure I mentioned it!"

"Oh, yes, of course. I must have forgotten. I hope you don't mind me asking..."

"Yes?"

"How exactly did that come to be? I mean, were you adopted?"

"Oh, no," Rachel smiled, "My dad's screened potential surrogates based on beauty and IQ and mixed their sperm together and-"

"A surrogate. I see," said Jesse, concentrating on the road ahead.

"What is it?" she asked, peering at the vacant expression in his eyes.

"Well, I know it's none of my business, but... this surrogate?"

"Yes?"

"This woman would be your biological mother."

"Yes, technically-"

"She would most likely look like you. Maybe even speak like you. Sing like you."

Rachel sat back in the SUV's leather seat. "I never really thought about it like that."

"Maybe she has your eyes. That would be something. I wonder if she's interested in Broadway. Aren't you curious?"

Rachel frowned, and nodded. "I guess I think about it sometimes..."

"Do you ever think about meeting her?" he asked.

Rachel chewed on her bottom lip. "I used to always have dreams that my surrogate was the most perfect woman in the world. She looked like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, with the voice of Barbra Streisand and the gumption of Patti Lupone. And I thought that my fathers maybe met her when they went to college in New York, and they stayed in touch, and she agreed to be their surrogate because she knew how much they deserved to be parents, because she's a big gay rights supporter. And I always thought that the day she gave me up was the hardest day of her life."

Jesse smiled, and for the first time, Rachel spied a swirl of sincerity along with the playfulness.

"That's why I don't want to meet her."

Jesse's smile faltered. "I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk meeting her and having all my expectations dashed, which they will be, because my expectations are unreasonable. If you haven't noticed, I'm pretty high maintenance."

"Yes, but, Rachel, what if she's everything you ever imagined?"

Rachel shook her head. "She won't be, Jesse."

"But you don't know that."

"And I don't want to know. I've come this far without my surrogate-"

"You keep calling her your surrogate, Rachel, but she's your mother."

"You don't understand, Jesse. A mother is someone who raises and nurtures you. How am I supposed to think of someone I've never even met as my mother?"

Jesse continued driving, with a steely gaze of frustration staring out of the front window.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," said Rachel.

Jesse sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I just... Sometimes I look at you, and the wonderful person you are, and I marvel at how your fathers raised you. But there's always something else. Something more than just your manners and your intelligence and leading lady enthusiasm. There's something about you. Something that can't be taught. It's…" Jesse sighed, at a loss for words for once, "I don't know what is about you. It's this power and this talent and this... magic. You're magical. I know if someone amazing as you can even exist, your mother must have at least a fraction of it in her, and if it's so, I don't think you'll be disappointed if you meet her. She'll be all you imagined, Rachel. All that and more."

Rachel's mouth hung open. For once, she was speechless. She was shocked at not only how well Jesse could articulate what he loved about her, but also how much he loved those things. At that moment, he looked more genuine than he's ever seen, his eyes locked onto the road ahead of him. He pulled up outside of Rachel's house with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was thinking of something else.

"I love you," escaped Rachel's lips.

She wasn't sure if she meant it, but she felt that someone with feelings so passionate deserved to hear it. However, Jesse didn't look as grateful as she imagined. He was indifferent, almost. He simply smiled subtly and glanced at her.

"I love you, too," he said nonchalantly, as if it was obvious.

"I'll think about what you said," she said, "About meeting my mother."

He smiled gratefully, excitement dancing in his pale eyes. "Great. I hope you make the right decision."

With a goodbye and a peck on the cheek, Rachel got out of the car, and Jesse watched her walk into her house from his car before he pulled out back onto the road, clenching his jaw and hoping his plan would succeed. It had to. So much was at stake if it didn't. He was a boy struck by love and he wouldn't let anything get in the way.

xxx

"You weren't in Spanish. I got confused in all the answers and just drew sombreros," pouted Brittany.

Quinn sighed and raised her head from the water fountain in the hall.

"Sorry, Brittany. I ditched. Tina wanted to talk to me about Dave."

Brittany and Quinn walked alongside each other through the crowd of schoolmates.

"Is Dave gonna be okay?" she asked, her big blue eyes boring into Quinn with concern.

"Of course he is, Brittany," Quinn assured her, "She just wanted to ask questions about him to find out who hurt him."

Brittany held her arm out for Quinn to clutch as the girls walked upstairs.

"Is Santana okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn nodded, "I mean, she's a little bored, at home all day. And then at night... I don't really know where she goes. Bars and graveyards, I guess. She seems a little..."

"What?" asked Brittany as the girls reached the top of the stairwell.

Quinn stopped and turned around to her friend. "Sad."

Brittany frowned. "I wish I could cheer her up. But she doesn't want to see me."

"It's not that she doesn't want to see you, Brittany. It's the clause, remember? She'll lose her soul if she feels true happiness."

"But that doesn't mean she feels true happiness every time she's around me. When we watch American Idol together, she's usually really angry at everyone. She yells things in Spanish. I used to think that if she spoke Spanish all the time the words would soak into my brain and I wouldn't flunk out of Mr. Schuester's class. I'd ask her to talk to me in Spanish, so she'd pet my hair like I was Lord Tubbington and she'd say stuff to me. The way she said it made it sound like it was the nicest things she would ever say, and it made me sad that I didn't understand any of it."

Quinn smiled. "She loves you, Brittany. She won't say it, but I know."

Brittany grimaced. There was so much she didn't understand, and what she did, she didn't like. "Will I ever be able to see her again?"

Quinn frowned sadly. "I don't know. Probably. She can't be away from you forever."

Brittany nodded, but she wasn't convinced. She looked up as Buffy appeared, trotting down the other case of stairs.

"Brittany, can I talk to you?" she asked.

"Is this about Dave, because I don't know anything about him except that his breath smells like McDonalds and his-"

Brittany's sentence was cut short when all of a sudden she took a sharp intake of breath and fell - no, not fell - was pushed down the stairs. She tumbled down the staircase and landed on her back at the bottom, groaning in pain. Buffy ran down to her, with Quinn close behind, as other students came running and crowded around Brittany.

"Give her some air," ordered Buffy, waving them away, "Someone get the school nurse!"

Brittany tried to sit up, clutching her leg. "I think my ankle's broken," she grimaced.

"What happened?" asked Quinn.

"I... Something pushed me down... Or I fell... No, I didn't. I was pushed," Brittany rambled, confusing herself.

Buffy stood straight and looked around her as she heard laughter in the background. She frowned at the crowd. Who would laugh at something like this? But she didn't see a smirk on a single face. The laugh grew quieter - farther away, and a doorway swinging open on its own caught her eye. If this was the work of a ghost, Buffy had a clue where to find it. She rushed off to the doorway.

"Buffy, where are you going?" asked Quinn, but Buffy didn't have time to answer.

She pushed the door open and walked into the classroom. It appeared to be empty, chairs askew in their rows.

"Who's here?" she asked, walking in with her arms rested on her hips.

She shook as something rushed past her, bumping into her.

"Hey! Who's here?" she whipped her head around, "I know someone's here. I'm not gonna hurt you, I just want to talk."

Her eyes locked onto the ceiling as a loose tile moved out of its place, and back in. Whatever was there was in the vents now.

xxx

"Mr. Schuester? Have you ever touched a ghost?" asked Buffy.

Buffy had her plastic container of sushi in the choir room with Rachel, Tina and Mr. Schuester writing music notes on a legal pad at the piano.

"Uh, no," he said, looking up from his notes, "Ghosts tend to be... you know..."

"Non-corporeal," said Tina.

"That," said Mr. Schuester.

"Yeah, see, that's the thing. It didn't go through me, it bumped into me, and it wasn't cold or anything..."

"So an invisible person?" asked Mr. Schuester.

"A girl. She laughed."

"A girl on campus who can become invisible..."

"That's so cool," sighed Tina.

"Cool?" asked Buffy.

"Yeah, I'd love to be invisible. I wouldn't use my powers to hurt people. I'd just avoid confrontation..."

"I'd hate it," frowned Rachel, "How does she do it? Is she a witch? Because we can fight a witch."

"In Greek mythology, there's this thing called an invisibility cloak, used by the gods," said Tina.

"This girl's sort of petty for a god," remarked Buffy.

"She's got a grudge," said Rachel, "But why Brittany? I mean, Dave was a bully. There are a lot of kids who would harm him if they could, but Brittany is so sweet."

"Dave and Brittany. The common denominator is... popularity?" mused Buffy.

Rachel nodded. "Someone who resents the cool crowd. Makes sense. What now?"

"You should pull up that missing kids list," said Buffy.

"You got it," Rachel replied.

"Rachel?"

Rachel looked up, surprised to see her boyfriend in the doorway of the choir room in his familiar leather jacket, with a cardboard box balanced between his hip and his arm.

"Jesse? What are you doing here?" asked Rachel, standing up and walking him out of the room and into the hallway, away from her friends.

"I came to show you something," he smirked, his eyes playful again.

"What?" asked Rachel, confused, glancing at the cardboard box.

"I came around today and met your dads, like we talked about. You probably would have wanted to be there to introduce us, but its fine. They're nice people. They even let me rummage around in your basement."

"Why would you want to rummage around in my basement?" asked Rachel.

"To find things out that could lead us to your birth mother!" he said enthusiastically, "And I did find something. There's this box of all this baby stuff - even some baby teeth - and I found this tape."

From the cardboard box he removed a cassette tape with a paper tag on it that read 'From Mother to Daughter'. The sound of Rachel's heartbeat filled her ears and she was struck speechless.

"You have to listen to it, Rachel," smiled Jesse.

"I-I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I... I'm afraid she won't be what I want her to be."

"She is!"

Rachel looked up at him, confused.

"I mean, she has to be. She's gave birth to Rachel Berry. No one less than perfect could have done that."

Rachel sighed. "Why do you have so much faith in her?"

Jesse smiled, almost patronizingly. "Just trust me. Listen to the tape."

Rachel sighed reluctantly and nodded. "Okay."

"Thank you," smiled Jesse, and kissed the top of her head.


	15. The Lesson

"I guess now I have to start the hunt," said Buffy, as the bell for the end of school sounded.

"How are you going to hunt someone you can't see?" asked Tina, as the girls and Mr. Schuester left his office and stepped into the busy halls.

"You might have to rely on listening for once," Will teased.

"Very funny," groaned Buffy.

Buffy watched them leave until every student flooded out of school, and McKinley High was finally empty. She peered around the high school. It was strangely ominous after hours. She heard a noise coming from the drama room, and peered in the window in the door. Morgan Ru was inside, trying on her May Queen dress with the rest of her Cheerios, unfazed by the recent happenings. Buffy smiled in at them, as they compared shoes and talked about how they'd style her hair. Maybe Quinn Fabray wasn't so wrong about missing it. Sometimes Buffy wished she was back in LA, blissfully ignorant. She tore her eyes away from the group of friends when she heard the faint sound of a flute down the hall, but before she could reach the destination of the eerie sound, she bumped into someone.

"Santana!" she exclaimed, and clutched her heart, "You scared me!"

Santana smirked. "I'm light on my feet. What are you doing here?"

"I go to school here," Buffy raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here?"

"School's over, smartass, and I'm here to find out what pissy little poltergeist is hurting my friends. Now Britt can't dance because Casper sprained her ankle!"

"Brittany's ankle will heal," said Buffy, "I'm just afraid the attacks will get worse. And it's not a ghost."

"Oh, no? What is it?"

"I guess it's someone who can just turn invisible. She bumped into me."

"She?"

"I heard her laughing."

"Oh."

"So how have you been?" Buffy folded her arms and kept an ear out for anything strange.

"Fine, I guess. The days tend to blend into each other after a while... I've been hearing some things at Willy's Demon Bar. Nothing solid, but something about the Master. Something's in motion. Something big. You've been reading the prophecies, right? The pergamum codex?"

"Well, Tina has, but not much has come up. Just the Anointed One, but he's done and dusted, literally."

"I don't think so."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll tell you when I know, but some vamps I've talked to seem pretty certain that the Anointed One is undead and kicking."

xxx

Buffy walked into the choir room the next day at lunch to find Tina with books on the paranormal splayed before her, and Rachel picking at a split end with a faraway, melancholy look about her. She sat down beside them with a groan.

"Last night was a bust," she said, "Rachel, did you pull up that list?"

Rachel looked up, startled. "Oh, I-I forgot-"

"It's okay. I made one," said Tina, handing Buffy a list of names and information, "I pulled up their class schedule, activities, and medical records."

"Good work," Buffy replied absentmindedly, scanning the list, "Hey, check out this one. The most recent one. Suzy Pepper. Disappeared like six months ago."

"I don't know her," said Tina.

"Me neither," said Rachel.

"She sounds familiar," Buffy bit her bottom lip, "Her only activity was band. She played the flute!"

"So?" asked Tina.

"Well, last night when I was hunting I heard this flute but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. I'm gonna check this out. I'll see you guys later."

Buffy clutched the piece of paper and walked briskly back out of the choir room. Curiosity was getting the best of her. Back in the classroom their invisible culprit led her to the day before, she spied the loose tile in the ceiling and this time, unflinchingly unafraid, she hopped up onto a sturdy table and knocked the tile off. There was a big square hole in the ceiling, and Buffy hoisted herself into it to find herself in a large air vent. It was dark and dank, with dusty grime caked on the surface.

"No wonder this school is so poorly ventilated," Buffy wrinkled her nose.

She wriggled through the vent and eased her way in, squinting through the darkness, when she saw a light in the distance. She crawled her way through the dirt and dust bunnies, to the end of the vent, when suddenly there was an opening and she found herself crawling into a small room. It looked only a little larger than a custodian's closet, with the same dank and depressing atmosphere, but she could tell that somebody made themselves at home. There was a blow up bed with a musty quilt askew, and a bunch of music sheets scattered on the ground with a flute among them.

Buffy kneeled on the floor and rifled through the things. There was a change of clothes and a hamper of laundry in the corner. Buffy pursed her lips and picked up a worn, brown teddy bear at the end of the bed. She patted its fur and almost felt sorry for the invisible girl. Suzy Pepper. Where did she know that name? She threw the bear back on the bed with something caught her eye. A bulky book sat among some dusty novels. She picked it up and read the cover. The Thunderclap. It was the school year book.

"Susan Pepper," she read from the inside cover, next to all of her classmates' signatures, "So it is you."

Buffy sighed and tucked the yearbook under her arm.

xxx

Quinn walked down the halls, looking over her shoulder every now and then. After what happened to Dave, and then Brittany, she seemed anxious at school. She knew she was nearly invisible these days, but she was afraid that maybe the MO of Invisigirl was to hurt people who picked on her or made her feel invisible. Quinn did both to a lot of people when she had reign of McKinley. She gripped her Geometry textbook in her fingertips. Her grades were the only thing she really felt like she could control anymore, and she was heading to Mrs. Miller's classroom.

"Mrs. Miller?" she called as she pushed the classroom door ajar.

She stepped in and saw the sun spilling in between the window blinds and on to Mrs. Miller's overweight body, slack against her desk chair, a plastic bag wrapped around her head.

"Mrs. Miller!" Quinn cried, shocked, her hands fluttering about before she stumbled over and ripped the bag off of her Geometry teacher's head, "Are you okay?"

She held her hand to her heart, relieved as Mrs. Miller caught her breath, her eyes opening wide, winded. She breathed heavily, her throat horse.

"What happened?" cried Quinn, her heart racing.

"I was attacked..." Mrs. Miller croaked, leaning over and breathing heavily with Quinn's hand on her back, "...from behind."

They turned around as they heard a strange scratching noise from behind. Mrs. Miller gasped and Quinn held her breath as the women watched a lone piece of chalk floating above them and scratching letters into the chalkboard. Quinn bit her bottom lip at the word.

LISTEN

xxx

"It looked like she'd been living there for months," said Buffy, Suzy Pepper's yearbook still tucked under her arm, "And look at this."

She sprawled the yearbook out on the surface of Brad's piano, with Tina, Rachel and Mr. Schuester around her looking down at it.

"Have a nice summer, have a nice summer..." Rachel read from the page of signature, "This girl had no friends at all."

"I don't get it," Mr. Schuester furrowed his brow.

"Have a nice summer is what you write when you have nothing to say," Buffy explained.

"It's the kiss of death," sighed Tina.

"So you guys didn't know Suzy Pepper?" asked Buffy.

As Tina and Rachel shook their heads, Mr. Schuester nodded. "I did."

"You did?" Buffy exclaimed.

Mr. Schuester nodded. "She was a student in my Spanish class last year. Exceptional at it, actually. I think Spanish was her favorite class because of all the attention she got. I tend to award my good students with more attention than the bad. She liked that, I guess. I never saw her with any other friends. She didn't seem happy at school unless she was in my class, and after a while it turned out that she had a crush on me."

"No way," smirked Buffy.

Mr. Schuester nodded. "It got a little inappropriate. I had to lay down the line, and she got upset. Long story short, she ate this deadly pepper and had to get her esophagus removed."

"Ouch!" exclaimed Rachel.

"Very. She dropped out of my class after that. I don't think I've seen her since..."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Buffy.

"What?" asked Rachel.

"I know Suzy!" said Buffy, remembering a time when she was entirely infatuated with Mr. Schuester, and Suzy Pepper gave her words of wisdom to get over it.

"How do you know her?" asked Rachel.

"I... Um-I talked to her. Once."

"Oh?"

Tina leaned over the yearbook, flipping through the pages. "Rachel... We had four classes with her last year."

"So everyone knew her and no one noticed her," sighed Buffy.

"What, she turned invisible because no one noticed her?" Rachel asked sarcastically.

Tina slapped her palm down on the piano. "Of course! I've been investigating the mystical causes of invisibility when I should have studied the quantum mechanical! I'm sorry. I've been so lack on research ever since I started dating Mike. He likes to take me to dim sum a lot," she blushed, but quickly composed herself again.

"It's okay, Tina, you've been doing more than enough," smirked Buffy, "But I think I speak for everyone here when I say, 'Huh?'"

"It's just this theory... that reality can be shaped by our concept of it. Especially with the Hellmouth giving off mystical energy. People perceived Suzy as invisible, so she became like that."

"Wow. So this is like... something we did to her," said Buffy.

"No wonder she's angry," said Rachel.

The scoobies whipped their head to the choir room door as Morgan Ru flung through looking out of place in her red and white Cheerios uniform.

"I knew you'd be here," she breathed, "Listen, Buffy, I know we've had our differences, with you being so weird and hanging out with these total losers. Despite that, I know you're aware of this feeling we have for each other, deep down."

"Nausea?" Tina suggested under her breath.

"Someone is after me!" cried Morgan, "Quinn Fabray told me that someone attacked Mrs. Miller. She was helping me with my homework! And I was going to appoint Brittany as my co-captain! I was going to ask Dave to be my date to the Spring Fling. This is all about me!"

"Whoa," frowned Rachel, "For once, she's right."

"So you come to me for help?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

Morgan nodded. "Because, you're always around when this weird stuff is happening. And you're strong, and you've got all those weapons. I was kind of hoping you really were in a gang."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Please!" said Morgan, "I don't have anyone else to turn to."

Buffy sighed and stood before Morgan. "Okay. Morgan, your attacker is an invisible girl."

"Who is really, really angry at you," Rachel added.

Morgan bit her bottom lip and shook her head of sleek black hair. "I don't want to know what it is, just get rid of it."

"It's not that simple. It's a person. It's this person," said Buffy, taking Suzy's yearbook and showing Morgan her small, cropped photo along with all the other kids' yearbook snaps.

"I've never seen that girl before in my life!" Morgan said defensively.

"That's the point," sighed Buffy.

"Morgan, you said that Mrs. Miller was attacked?" asked Mr. Schuester.

"Yeah! I mean, she's okay now, but someone tried to suffocate her with a plastic bag, and they wrote 'listen' in big capital letters on her chalkboard! It was so scary for me."

The others looked at each other solemnly.

"It looks like we have two messages from Suzy now. Look and Listen," said Mr. Schue.

"I don't get it," said Morgan.

"I don't think you're supposed to - yet. Suzy's not quite ready."

"She's probably going to strike next at Spring Fling tonight," said Rachel, "We should keep Morgan away from that."

"Nothing is keeping me away from Spring Fling tonight! I'm a shoe in for May Queen!" cried Morgan.

"Can we just marvel at your astounding lack of priorities?" Rachel huffed.

"If I don't win the crown tonight, Suzy wins! And that would be bad. She's evil, okay. Way eviler than me."

"Morgan has a point," sighed Buffy, "Continuing the Spring Fling may be the best way to catch Suzy out. We can use Morgan as bait."

"Great. Wait, what?"

xxx

"So how creepy is it that Suzy's been at this for months?" asked Morgan as she walked down the empty halls of McKinley High after school, with Buffy Summers at her side, "Spying on us. Finding out our secrets. Are you guys saying she's invisible because she's unpopular?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Buffy said stiffly.

"Bummer for her. It must be awful to feel that lonely."

"So I see you've read about the feeling."

"Hey! You think I'm not lonely because I'm cute and popular? I can be surrounded by people and be completely alone. It's not like any of them really know me. I don't even know if they like me half the time. None of us liked Quinn Fabray when_ she_ was the most popular girl in school. She was a like a pretty, blond Hitler. I don't think I like being a dictator as much as she did."

"No?"

"No. Sometimes when I talk, people are so busy agreeing with me that they don't hear a word I say."

"If you feel so alone, why do you work so hard at being popular?"

"It beats being alone all by yourself."

xxx

Tina looked up from decrypting the pergamum codex a moment when a faint whistle caught her attention.

"Listen," she commanded absentmindedly, and Rachel and Mr. Schuester stopped and strained their ears to hear a flute playing in the distance.

"Come on," said Mr. Schuester, rising from his seat in the choir room and rushing out the door, flanked by Rachel and Tina.

Out in the empty hall, they could hear the flute better, the eerie tune traveling towards them, but they didn't move a muscle.

"Maybe we could talk to her," said Mr. Schuester, "Reason with her... Possibly grab her."

"There are three of us," said Rachel, "Let's go."

xxx

Buffy flipped on the switch of a custodian closet, and lead Morgan in, with her dress for the Spring Fling folded over her arm.

"If you tell anyone I got dressed in a janitor's closet-"

"Your secret's safe with me," sighed Buffy, "Hurry!"

She walked back out and closed the door behind her with Morgan inside, primping herself in preparation for the dance.

xxx

It wasn't long before Will, Rachel and Tina were outside the music room where Brad Ellis coached the jazz band, and Suzy's flute was considerably louder. Will put his ear up to the door before he opened it and led the girls in. They peered around the room for any sign of Suzy; floating flute or a cryptic message.

"Suzy?" called Will, "We know what happened. Please, can we talk to you?"

"We're sorry we ignored you," Tina squeaked.

Rachel gulped and stared at the shelves of instruments and music sheets. She lifted one thin finger in the direction of radio with a cassette tape whirring around inside. As the three of the peered at it and the truth sunk in, they heard the door swing close and the lock turn.

Mr. Schuester banged against the locked door, when Tina heard something.

"What's that sound?" she asked, and Rachel strained her ears to hear a faint hissing.

Mr. Schuester turned to the girls and looked around.

"It's gas," he replied, rushing over and inspecting a vent, "Where's the valve?"

He searched around for a lever, becoming repulsed by the smell of the gas.

"Is this it?" coughed Tina, picking up a small, detached lever on the floor.

"Okay, that's not good," Rachel frowned with worry, rushing to the door. She rammed herself against it, but it didn't work.

Tina and Rachel held the sleeves up to their mouths as the music room filled more and more with dangerous gas each passing moment.

"Mr. Schuester, why is she doing this?" asked Tina, close to tears.

Mr. Schuester coughed. "She's gone mad."

"You think?" frowned Rachel.

xxx

Buffy leaned into the door of the janitor's closet and put her head close to the hinges.

"You know what you said before?" Buffy asked, speaking to Morgan from the other side, "I understand. Somehow it doesn't seem to matter how popular you are when-"

"You were popular? In what universe?" Morgan called from inside the closet.

"In LA," replied Buffy, "The point is, I did sort of feel like something was missing."

"Is that when you became weird and got kicked out?"

"Okay, can we have the heartfelt talk with a little less talk from you?"

Buffy rolled her eyes when Morgan didn't reply, but became alarmed when she heard a banging sound.

"Morgan?" she called, and pulled at the door knob, but the closet door wouldn't open. She rammed herself against the door to no avail. She balled a fist and drove it right through the wooden door, reaching her arm in and opening from the inside. She burst in at the last minute to find Morgan being lifted off the ground in her Spring Fling dress, and up into a vacant square in the ceiling.

"Buffy!" she cried, but Buffy couldn't grab her before she was pulled in, disappearing in the darkness.

Buffy jumped up and caught a metal bar on the ceiling, hoisting herself up into the hole. She wriggled through the vents and once again, found herself in Suzy's makeshift bedroom, Morgan lying unconscious on the blow up bed in her blue chiffon cocktail dress. Before she could reach her, the invisble force of Suzy pushed Buffy down, and she broke through a tile in the ground and landed in a classroom below.

She landed hard in the dust and rubble, and lifted her head, coughing heavily, as she heard the sound of nimble footsteps around her. Before she could stop her, Suzy Pepper lifted a syringe and shoved the needle into Buffy's neck, releasing a mysterious liquid into her bloodstream.

The next thing she remembered, she woke up bleary eyed strapped to a chair with elastic rope. She blinked a few times and looked around. Morgan was next to her in a chair in the gymnasium with the Spring Fling decorations up, hours before others would arrive.

"Buffy? Are you okay?" asked Morgan.

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, her neck stiff and sore.

"I can't feel my face," whimpered Morgan.

"What do you mean?"

"My face. My face is numb. What is she doing?"

Buffy tried to wriggle out of the rope. "I don't know."

"What does that mean?" asked Morgan, nodding her head to the opposite wall of the gym, where the word 'Learn' was written out in gold glitter.

Buffy bit her lip. "I don't know."

The girls held their breath as a small metal table on wheels rolled over to them, surely pushed by Suzy, with a white table cloth draped over it.

"I'm disappointed. I really hoped you guys would have figured it out by now," Suzie's bitter voice sounded in front of them.

"Well, why don't you explain it?" asked Buffy, "Come on, Suzy, what are we supposed to learn?"

"Yeah, what do you want to teach us?" asked Morgan, whimpering.

"You're not the student, you're the lesson," said Suzy.

"What did you do to my face?" asked Morgan.

"Your face," laughed Suzie, "This is what it's all about, isn't it? Your beautiful face. It's what makes you shine just a little bit brighter than the rest of us. Then again, you're no Quinn Fabray. But you have what she doesn't anymore. You're noticed. Remembered. The queen."

The tablecloth whipped off of the table to reveal an array of surgical equipment. Morgan gasped and quivered as a scalpel went floating from the table.

"I'm going to give you a face no one will forget," snarled Suzy.

"Suzy, you can't do this," said Buffy, struggling against the rope.

"What are you gonna do? Slay me?"

"Suzy, you know this is wrong."

Buffy was shocked as a punch came her way, thrown my Suzy's frail fist.

"I thought you would understand my vision, but you're just like them."

"Please don't do this," Morgan sobbed as Suzy's hovered the scalpel dangerously close to her face.

"You should be grateful. People who pass you on the street are going to remember you for the rest of their lives. And everyone who comes to the dance tonight will take the sight of the May Queen to their graves."

"Wait!" Morgan stalled as Buffy tried to wriggle her hand out of it's confinement.

"No, we really should get started soon, your local anesthetic is going to wear off and I don't want you to faint. It's less fun if you're not awake.

Buffy gave up on wriggling her hand out, and instead attempted to pull the table of surgical equipment closer while Suzy was distracted.

"Let's see," said Suzie, "I think I'll start with your smile. I think it should be wider."

"Suzy," said Morgan, "I know you think I don't understand, but I do!"

"I bet you know how I feel. I bet you can just be with all your friends and feel all alone because they don't really know you."

Buffy took possession of a small knife, cutting slowly at the rope with the very small amount of space she could move in.

"You're just a typical, self-involved spoiled little brat," continued Suzy, "You think you can charm your way out of this. Isn't that what you think?"

Suzie slashed at Morgan's face, making a small gash in her creamy skin.

"I see right through you," said Suzy as Morgan gasped.

With all of her might, Buffy kicked the table into Suzy, and escaped from her confinement in the chair, rushing to Morgan to rip the ropes off of her.

"Get me out of here!" she sobbed.

"Just hold still!" ordered Buffy, when she was kicked square in the chest and knocked back.

xxx

Rachel, Tina and Mr. Schuester had their heads against the music room door as they slumped to the ground, Tina unconscious on Rachel's shoulder and Will hitting at the door in vain, until all of sudden it opened and the three of them fell back, limp and weary. Santana Lopez looked down at them, quickly deducing the situation.

"C'mon," she said urgently, kicking Mr. Schuester's thigh.

He rose, hazy, and helped Rachel up as Santana picked up the unconscious Tina with ease and carried her out of the room, followed by the others. Rachel and Will coughed as they left the room, and Santana propped Tina up on her feet who blinked groggily and mumbled, "I'm up, Mom."

"What happened?" asked Santana.

"The gas... Invisible girl locked us in and blocked the vent... What are you doing here?" breathed Mr. Schuester.

"I... I was coming to help Buffy. With the invisible thing," said Santana, "Maybe you should get these two out."

Mr. Schuester still had a look of confusion stuck on his face, but he obliged, and led Tina and Rachel away.

xxx

"You know, I really felt sorry for you," said Buffy, sitting up from the ground, "You've suffered. But there's one thing I didn't factor into all this. You're a thundering loony."

"Buffy, are you okay?" Morgan whimpered.

Buffy tried to stand, but was kicked back down. She groaned, but flipped back up and threw a punch, not catching anything with her fist.

"Hey, moron. I'm invisible! How are you gonna fight someone you can't see?" asked Suzie, pushing Buffy to the ground from behind.

Morgan whimpered and gasped in her seat as Buffy stood up and peered around her in concentration.

"Morgan, shut up," said Buffy, and Morgan kept silent.

Buffy closed her eyes and listened. She didn't strain her ears, but she let every sound fill her mind, and every feeling. Every breeze that kissed her skin and ray of light that warmed her. She was honing her senses, as Mr. Schuester liked to say. She stayed silent for many long seconds, until she made a judgment call and whipped around throwing a hard punch that landed right in Suzy's leering face and knocked her into a curtain.

"I see you," Buffy smiled, the curtain still wrapped around Suzie as she fell into it, when the emergency exit of the gymnasium was thrown open.

"Everyone stay where you are," said a frowning man in a black suit with a matching partner at his side, "FBI, nobody move."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at the suits.

"We'll take it from here now, ma'am," said his partner, raising a hand to Buffy.

"Take what from where?" asked Buffy.

"We're here for the girl," said one of the agents, lifting Suzy, still bundled in the curtain.

"Where were you ten minutes ago when she was trying to play surgeon?" asked Buffy.

"I'm sorry, we came as fast as we could. We'll take it from here on."

"You can cure her?"

"We can... rehabilitate her. In time, she'll learn to be a useful member of society again. Very useful."

"This isn't the first time this has happened, is it? This happened at other schools?" asked Buffy.

"We're not at liberty to discuss that. It'd be best that you forget this whole incident."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "You guys are very creepy."

"Thank you for your help. Have a nice day."

The agents strode out with Suzy, and closed the emergency exit behind them.

"Can I get untied now?" asked Morgan.

xxx

"I just can't believe how twisted Suzy got," frowned Buffy as she walked through the halls of McKinley High as if nothing ever happened, with her friends and her watcher by her side, "How did you guys get out of that room?"

"Someone found us..." said Mr. Schuester, "I'll talk to you about that later."

"Okay," said Buffy.

"Hi."

The gang stopped in their tracks as Morgan Ru approached them with her ponytail up high and her Cheerios uniform on, a scar on her cheek.

"Hey," Buffy greeted.

"Look, um, I didn't get a chance to say anything yesterday with the Spring Fling and everything, but, um, I guess I just wanted to say thank you. All of you."

Rachel blinked. "You are Morgan, right?" she said, and was abruptly elbowed by Buffy.

"You saved my yesterday, and you didn't have to, so thank you."

Buffy smiled. "You're welcome."

"We were just going to lunch if you wanted to-" Tina started to say before Dave Karofsky sidled up resting her arm on Morgan's shoulder.

"You're not hanging out with these losers, are you?" he scoffed.

Morgan laughed. "Are you kidding me? I was just being charitable," she explained, sliding her arm around Dave's, and the couple sauntered away together.

Buffy puckered her lips.

"Where's an invisible girl when you need one?" Rachel frowned.


	16. The Zoo

The students of Buffy's sophomore class huddled around out in the parking lot with two long yellow buses in wait for the remaining classmates to show up and let them head on their way to the Akron Zoo. Buffy had taken the same old zoo field trip every year back in LA, but she still took it as a fun opportunity to ditch class. Along with her schoolmates she shivered in her raincoat waiting for the doors of the bus to open, when Mr. Schuester tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey. Are you chaperoning?" she greeted him with a friendly smile.

Mr. Schuester shook his head looking tight-lipped and serious.

"I wanted to talk to you about the other night."

"Which other night?" Buffy asked, her stomach dropping as if she felt she was about to be scolded.

"The night that Suzy was captured."

Buffy sighed. "I told you everything I knew about those FBI guys."

"It's not about that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's Santana."

Buffy felt the color coming back to her face. "Huh?" she uttered, her voice cracking.

"She saved us from the gas leak the other night, saying she had come to help you, but it was my understanding that Santana and her family moved to Seattle."

"Is that the word?"

"Yeah, Buffy, that's the word. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Buffy instinctively shook her head.

"Then why is Santana showing up to your aid? I didn't even realize you two were friends."

Buffy stammered, in thought. "We talk through Facebook. I mean, we don't really know each other that well, but... she was stopping through town, for a visit..."

She could feel her cheeks getting hot. She was normally much better at lying. Mr. Schuester just stared at her with one eye raised.

"So why did she show up in the school?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe she was looking for Quinn at cheerleading practice."

Mr. Schue pursed his lips. "Are you sure there's not something else going on?"

Buffy nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay," Mr. Schuester sighed, "I'll talk to Quinn about it."

Buffy sighed in relief as Mr. Schuester walked away. She knew it would be okay if he talked to Quinn. She would just back up the story to protect Santana. But she still felt bad that Mr. Schuester doubted her. He could probably see the lie in his eyes.

Buffy turned back to the horde of students as the doors of the school buses snapped open and her classmates flooded inside. Buffy found her way to the back with Rachel, and snagged herself the window seat.

"Hi, Buffy," Rachel smiled and sat beside her friend with a little bento box in her hands for lunch.

"Hi," Buffy smiled back as her fellow glee clubbers gravitated towards them, sitting in a crowd in the back of the bus, like second class citizens compared to the jocks and Cheerios.

They all went silent as Tina trudged towards them with Mike behind her, looking so out of place and unlike herself, her hair in a messy ponytail. Buffy gaped at her oversized gray sweat shirt and denim capris.

"Tina... what happened?" gawked Quinn, twisting her head around from her seat beside Brittany, meaning it in the nicest way possible.

Tina grimaced as she slid into a seat with Mike. "Principal Figgins won't let me wear my clothes anymore. He says I'm promoting vampirism."

Buffy wrinkled her brow. "But vamps don't even dress like that. They kind of dress like they've never lived past the 90s."

Tina shrugged.

"It's so weird," said Artie from the disabled seating space beside Puck.

"It so isn't you," said Rachel.

"I feel like an Asian Branch Davidian," muttered Tina in her shapeless clothes.

"Are there any other looks you can try?" asked Mike.

"Biker chick?" suggested Buffy.

"Cowgirl?" said Finn.

"Hood rat," smiled Mercedes.

"Computer programmer," Quinn said thoughtfully.

"Sexy school girl," smiled Puck.

"A Happy Meal, no onions," mumbled Brittany, "Or a chicken."

Tina shook her head. "Look, I appreciate it guys, but this just isn't me. I know who I am and I'm not allowed to show it."

The others sat back in defeat as the driver started to the bus and rolled out of the school. Rachel leaned in close to Buffy, her eyes shifting around them.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked under her breath.

"Sure," said Buffy.

Rachel twisted in her seat to face her friend. "For a while now, Jesse has been helping me trace down my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Well, my birth mother. He brought it up one day..." Rachel trailed off.

"I didn't know you wanted to find your birth mother."

"I didn't, really. I said I did to appease Jesse, mainly, because he really thought I should want to meet her, but I didn't truly want to, until he found this."

Rachel rummaged through the inside pocket of her overcoat and pulled out a casette tape.

"What's this?" asked Buffy.

"It's a tape my mother left to me when I was born."

"What does she say?"

Rachel sighed and looked down at the tape. "She sings to me. I Dreamed a Dream, from Les Mis. It's one of my favorite musicals. And Buffy, she's amazing. Her voice is so beautiful... And now I have to find her. I want to meet her because I know she won't disappoint."

Buffy frowned.

"What?" asked Rachel.

"Nothing, it's just... while she has a great voice and your taste in music, it doesn't mean she'll be everything you want her to be."

Rachel pursed her lips. "Jesse seems to think she will be."

"Well, that's nice that Jesse has such faith in her, but maybe Jesse isn't always right. I just don't want you getting hurt if she's not what you expect."

Rachel's face was blank a moment before she smiled at Buffy. "Thanks, but it's a chance I have to take."

Buffy nodded. "I understand. And hey, I'm really happy for you that you found someone like Jesse who's so devoted to you. I can see why you spend all of your time with him."

Rachel's smile faltered as Buffy turned back around in her seat. Did she really spend all of her time with her boyfriend? She looked over the sea of heads on the school buses to one that stuck out, taller than the rest. She couldn't tell from the back of his head, but she could just imagine that Finn wasn't having a good time. She remembered what Quinn said, about how she felt better telling Finn the truth knowing there was someone he could talk to. Quinn had been so annoyed when she found out that Rachel was dating Jesse St. James. Rachel felt guilty that she hadn't been there for Finn lately. She almost felt it was her responsibility to him and Quinn.

Rachel slipped away from her small group of friends at the Akron Zoo and caught up to Finn who was strolling by the zebras. She had to make two quick steps for every one of his long strides.

"Finn!" she exclaimed, smiling widely.

"Hey, Rachel," he replied, his eyes glued to the ground in front of him.

"Listen, Finn, I just wanted to say I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. I know you must really be hurting, after what happened between you and Quinn."

Finn smiled down at Rachel, his squinting in the sun. "It's okay. I mean, I guess I haven't been as social lately. It almost feels like everyone took her side."

Rachel furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, like you, for example. Quinn did that to me, and then you try harder than ever to be her friend."

Rachel frowned, feeling guilty.

"I mean, it's okay," continued Finn.

"No, it's not, Finn. I'm really sorry. But you don't have to go through this alone anymore. I'll be here for you," she smiled.

"Word has it, you have a boyfriend."

Rachel's smile faltered. "Where did you hear that?"

"I guess Quinn told Brittany and naturally the whole school knows."

"Oh. Well, yes, I do have a boyfriend but that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

Finn smiled knowingly. "Rachel, I don't want to be your friend."

Rachel's face fell, crestfallen. "You don't?"

"No. I want to be more than that."

Rachel stared speechless at the trace of a smile on Finn's lips. Unsure how to reply, she looked all around her for some inspiration of wise words. Instead, what caught her eye, was the two meaty figures of Dave Karofsky and Azimio Adams pushing a weedy nerd into an archway the read 'Hyena House', closed off with yellow tape.

"What are Karofsky and Azimio doing with Lance?" Rachel asked, swiftly changing the subject.

Finn frowned. "Playing with him."

"What is it with those guys?" Rachel scowled, "I should get Buffy."

"I'll handle it. This job doesn't really require any slaying," Finn replied, ducking under the yellow tape as he neared the Hyena House.

Rachel watched him stroll in, and looked around her, uneasily biting her bottom lip. She tried to assure herself that Karofsky and Azimio are all talk, but then she remembered the brutal slushies and the tossing of innocent schoolmates into dumpsters. She took a deep breath and ducked under the yellow tape, only to be met with a steely eyed zoo warden with a scruffy beard.

"Hold on, are you blind or just illiterate, because hyenas are quick to prey on the weak," he scowled.

"Oh, I was just-"

"You're not going in there. Anyone who does is in a world of trouble."

Rachel squeaked in fear of being reprimanded. "I wasn't going in there!" she said, "But why is it off limits?"

"It's quarantined. These hyenas were just flown in from Africa;" said the zoo warden, "So keep out. Even if they call your name."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"A tribesman once told me that hyenas are capable of understanding human speech. They follow humans around by day, learning their names. At night, when the campfire dies, they call out to a person. Once they separate 'em, the pack devours 'em."

Rachel side-eyed the zoo warden. She knew he must've been a little off, but his story still made her skin crawl. As she backed away from the hyena house, Dave and Azimio made their way deeper in, dragging lanky Lance along with them.

"Cool," Dave sighed as they looked around themselves at the wide room, the stone walls complete with cavemen's sketchings.

They hopped up the steps and peered over the railings at a small rocky habitat.

"I don't see no hyenas," Azimio frowned.

He spoke too soon as one appeared out from its rocky hiding place, snarling viciously.

"Okay, now we've seen it," Lance said, his voice wavering as he itched to leave.

Dave smirked. "I think it looks hungry."

Dave and Azimio laughed heartily as they gripped Lance tightly and held him up over the edge of the railings.

"Stop! It's not funny!" cried Lance.

From behind, Finn Hudson bound up the steps and ripped Dave and Azimio's hands away from their grip on Lance's sweater vest.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own species?" Finn sneered as Lance thundered out of the Hyena House.

"What, are you gonna get in my face?" asked Dave, raising his eyebrow dubiously.

As a low growl sounded from down in the hyenas' pit, Dave, Azimio and Finn peered over the edge curiously, their eyes locking into the animal's. The hyena's eyes flashed yellow, and the three boys' sets of eyes flashed back. As the three looked on, steadfast and primal, the hyena's growled turned into a laugh.

xxx

Rachel bit her lip as she took a seat at her regular lunch table with Buffy at her side, her chocolate eyes searching out for Finn.

"I thought Finn would be here by now," she frowned.

"That would make him on time," smiled Buffy, picking at her sushi, "We couldn't have that."

"Did he seem upset at all on the bus back from the zoo?"

Buffy furrowed her brow. "About what?"

"I don't know," frowned Rachel, "He seemed quiet."

"I didn't notice anything. But then again, I'm not as hyper aware of him as, oh, say for example, you."

"Hyper aware?"

"Well, I'm not constantly monitoring his health, his mood, his blood pressure."

"I haven't been doing that!" cried Rachel, "...Lately."

"I guess not. You have Jesse to obsess over now. But, between us girls, it's not like your feelings for Finn just vanished, right?"

Rachel smiled despite her eyebrows knitted together in worry. "He gives me butterflies. You know what I mean?"

"I dimly recall," Buffy said searchingly.

"But that kind of thing hasn't happened to you lately?"

"Not of late," sighed Buffy.

"Not even for an honorable and sophisticated older man who's cufflinks you're wearing as earrings right now?" asked Rachel with a knowing smirk.

Buffy blushed and brought her hand to the silver cufflinks she'd slipped in her ear piercings. She'd stolen them from Mr. Schuester's bedroom that night of the Cinnamon Cookie Fiasco.

"It goes with my shoes," she shrugged.

"Come on," Rachel rolled her eyes with a giddy smile, "Will Schuester pushes your buttons. You know it."

Buffy shrugged. "I suppose some girls might find him attractive ... If they have eyes. Alright! He's a honey, it's just... he's my teacher, and my watcher, and he's way too old and so not interested."

Rachel smiled sadly. "He's exactly unattainable, but it's okay to crush a little. It's not like you're gonna do something crazy like sneak into his house to make him cookies and steal his cufflinks."

Buffy pushed her friend playfully with an embarrassed grin. "Will you stop it? That was a time for a crazier, more desperate me. I'm not going to be as inappropriate anymore. Maybe I can crush a little from afar, but it's nothing serious that I'm going to act on, you know? I'll get over sooner or later-"

"There he is!"

"Will?"

"Finn," Rachel sighed as the broad shouldered boy sauntered through the crowd of people as they parted to let him through.

"Girls," he smirked as he took a seat at their table.

"Boy," Buffy replied.

Finn grinned. "Sorry I'm late. I forgot we were eating lunch together today. Man, am I hungry."

Finn snatched a miniature sushi roll off of Buffy's tray and stuffed it in his mouth, making a face of disgust as he chewed.

"Finn, do you want me to help you rehearse for our Regionals routine?" Rachel offered eagerly.

"Whatever," replied Finn, "What is this crap?"

Buffy grimaced. "Well, it was my California roll."

"I need some food," he scowled, "Birds live on this."

Rachel and Buffy glanced at each other and side-eyed Finn.

"What?" he smirked.

"What's up with you?" asked Buffy.

"Is something wrong? Did I do something?" asked Rachel, her eyebrows knitted together with worry.

Finn stared down Rachel. "What could you possibly do?" he smiled, baring his teeth, "That's crazy. I'm just... restless."

"We could get some ice cream," Rachel offered with a shrug as Finn fidgeted in his seat, looking around.

"I like it here," Finn said, his eyes scanning the room, scratching his chest. He leaned forward a moment and sniffed Buffy, making her mouth drop open,

"What was that?" she asked.

"You took a bath," noted Finn.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I often do. I'm actually known for it."

"That's okay," said Finn.

Buffy and Rachel looked at each other, flabbergasted.

"And the weird behavior award goes to..." said Buffy as Finn's head snapped in the direction of the entrance, as Dave Karofsky and Azimio Adams swaggered in, scoping out the place.

"Oh, look, it's the winged monkeys," Rachel said bitterly.

Dave's eyes locked into Finn's a moment before he and Azimio barrelled their way to a table inhabited by one chubby A/V club member eating his chilli all alone.

"What I don't get is why your sitting at our table," said Azimio, flicking the kids tray to the side.

"Yeah, shouldn't you be hovering over a football stadium with Good Year written on you," smirked Dave.

Finn chuckled heartily, his laughter dying down as he caught the sight of Buffy and Rachel's glares.

"The kid's fat," Finn explained as if the girls didn't get the joke.

xxx

"You see what I mean?" Rachel asked Buffy who stayed close by her side as the girls walked into the choir room and took their seats for glee club rehearsal, "He's... different."

"He's definitely acting weird," said Buffy.

Even for a jock, Finn always seemed like a more honest, kind-hearted kind of guy. A little ignorant to a lot of things, yes, but Finn wasn't a deliberately mean person. He was a good guy. Buffy shook the thoughts from her head. Perhaps Rachel rubbed off on her and now she looking too far into it.

"Guys! We have a serious problem!" Kurt rushed into the choir room, catching the attention of the whole club with his shrill voice and his tweed hat, "I've been doing some deep background on Vocal Adrenaline."

"Isn't that against the rules?" asked Rachel.

"No, not at all!" said Kurt, "Or... probably. Whatever. Anyways, I rooted through the dumpsters behind the Carmel auditorium and I found eighteen empty boxes of Christmas lights!"

"Oh, no," sighed Tina.

Buffy just raised an eyebrow in confusion as Kurt continued.

"Then, I went to Sheets 'n Things and asked for red chentilly lace, and they were sold out!"

"Oh, sweet Jesus," said Mercedes.

"Oh my," Rachel gasped.

"Wait, what?" asked Buffy.

"They're doing Gaga," Rachel said, face fallen in distress.

"It's over," sighed Mercedes.

"Exactly," said Kurt.

"We should have guessed it," said Rachel, "They're going for full out theatricality. They know it's the easiest way to beat us. Damn them!"

"What's with this Gaga dude, he just like, dresses weird, right? Like Bowie?" asked Puck.

Kurt scowled. "Lady Gaga is a woman! She's only the biggest pop act to come along in decades. She's boundary pushing. The most theatrical performer of our generation. She changed her look faster than Brit changes sexual partners."

"It's true," Brittany muttered as she twirled her ponytail with her finger.

"It makes sense that they would make homage," said Artie, "She's a perfect fit for them."

"Hold on," said Will, "We might be able to kill two birds with one stone here. We can help find Tina a new look and find a competitive number for Regionals. This week, your assignment; Gaga."

The choir room burst into cheers of excitement, and Rachel whirled her head back with a giddy smile on her face, only for the smile to fall.

"What's wrong?" asked Buffy.

Rachel frowned. "Finn's not here."

xxx

Finn growled heatedly in the choir room. "I'm not getting this," he grumbled, falling into a plastic chair.

"What?" said Rachel, "No, come on, it's easy. It's mostly just clapping and stomping and stuff. Kurt and I simplified the choreography to the bone with you in mind."

Finn glared at the ground. "Thanks," he said flatly, "But it's just a big blur, all these spins and stuff."

"It's basically the same as the Katy Perry number we did last week. You had it down then," said Rachel, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips.

"Why do I even have to learn this?" growled Finn.

"Because otherwise you can't participate in glee club."

"Okay, explain the part where that's bad."

Rachel sighed sympathetically with her head cocked to the right. "Because, Finn, you'll lose that extra credit for Spanish and be on academic probation, meaning you can't play football and you'll never get a sports scholarship and you'll end up being the Breadstix guy who sweeps the floors and says 'Hey kids, where are the cool parties this weekend?'" she smiled and sat down beside him as he rubbed his temples, "Do you have a headache?"

She laid her hand on his shoulder but he shook her away. "Yeah," he muttered, "And I think I know what's causing it."

Rachel frowned, stung. "Finn..."

"Look, forget, okay? I don't get it. I won't ever. I don't care," he huffed, and stormed out of the choir room with his shoulders tensed.

xxx

As Buffy made her way to History class down the corridors of McKinley High, she heard a flurry of screams down the hall. As well as cries of terror she heard people shouting, "Get it, get it," and she peered under people's feet to see what creature was terrorizing the school. She leaned down and scooped up a teacup pig that had been set loose down the halls. The hordes of students calmed as the pig wriggled in Buffy's arms, a fake foamy sword and shield strapped to it. Almost immediately, Principal Figgins came bounding towards her.

"Herbert!" he exclaimed, out of breath, "Gave us quite a scare."

"Herbert?" asked Buffy.

"Our new mascot, for the McKinley Titans."

"He's so cute," cooed Buffy.

"He's not cute," said Principal Figgins, "He's fierce, mean and ready for action."

Buffy smiled and nodded. "You're right. He's a fine mascot and will engender school spirit."

"He better," groaned Principal Figgins, "It's costing me an arm and a leg to feed him. Let's get you back into your cage!"

Buffy followed Principal Figgins down the hallways on the way to his office with the bubblegum pink pig rested in her arms.

"See the problem with students today," continued Principal Figgins, "Is that you have no school spirit. Today it's all drugs and vampires and those television programs on HBO with nudity. When I was your age, I cared about my school's reputation."

As Principal Figgins disappeared into his office, behind him, Herbert the teacup pig began to wriggle uncontrollably in Buffy's arms, squealing in fear and struggling to cut loose. Buffy gripped tight onto the pig and looked up in confusion as she caught the piercing eyes of Finn Hudson as he strutted down the hall with a hint of a tight lipped sneer on his face. With a chill the felt like it was dripping down her back, she didn't even bother to react as Rachel Berry came bounding after him with a stern expression, her hands folded over her small chest.

Twisting around the corner, the pixie-like girl caught up to the long legged boy as he joined Dave Karofsky and Azimio Adams in a tight triangle.

"Finn, what is wrong with you?" she asked, pulling on the back of his flannel shirt, her chin up in wait for an explanation.

Karofsky and Azimio eyed her in amusement with their eyebrows raised.

Finn sighed heavily. "I guess you've noticed I've been different around you lately. I think... I think it's because my feelings for you have been changing."

Rachel's mouth open in a little o of surprise.

"I feel like I need to tell you something," he said with the same sparkle of arrogant playfulness that Jesse usually had in his eyes, "I've, um... I've decided to drop glee club. So I won't be need your help with choreography anymore which means, I won't have to look at your pasty face ever again."

His mouth curled in a malicious leer as Karofsky and Azimio bellowed in laughter behind him.

Rachel felt her face getting hot in embarassment, and she whirled her head around and sped off in her Tory Burch flats before her eyes could well up with tears and overflow in front of the broad-shouldered bullies. Instead, she let her tears flow onto Buffy's shoulders, dampening her Yeah Yeah Yeahs t-shirt.

"I mean, we haven't always been close and I haven't known him well for for he long but... he's never..."

A heavy ball of emotion caught in Rachel's throat and she tried to blink the tears away.

"I think there's something wrong with him," said Buffy.

"Or maybe there's something wrong with me," mused Rachel, her eyes red and her brown eyelashes clumped together.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's not picking on you. He's just sniffing you a lot. Maybe he hates me."

"No. That still doesn't explain why he's hanging out with the Dode Patrol. Something's going on. Something weird."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Talk to the expert on weird," smirked Buffy, "What about you?"

"I'm not going to stick around and wait for one of those jerks to harass me again," sniffed Rachel, "I'm gonna go spy on Vocal Adrenaline."

"Are you allowed to do that?" grinned Buffy.

"Oh please, Buffy, it's not illegal to steal their ideas. I'm just giving us some competitive edge."

"You have fun with that."

xxx

"Finn started teasing people?" asked Mr. Schuester as he sorted through a box of cassette tapes and music sheets.

"Uh huh," nodded Buffy, sitting across from him in his cramped office.

"And he started acting and dressing differently?" asked Will.

"Uh huh."

"And he's spending all his time hanging around with the jocks?"

"It's bad, isn't it?"

"It's devastating. He's turning into a sixteen year old boy. We may have to kill him."

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Will, I'm serious."

"So am I," sighed Will, "Except the part about killing him. Finn is a teenaged boy. For the most part, they're all morons, but he'll get over."

"I cannot believe you of all people are trying to Scully me. There is something supernatural at work here. Get your books! Look up stuff!"

"Under what?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't know. I'll ask Tina. She's still brainy without her Tim Burton costumes, right?"

Will groaned. "The evidence you already have is sketchy at best."

"He scared the pig!"

Will clenched his jaw. "Buffy, boys can be cruel. They tease. It's natural teen behavior pattern. Testosterone. They prey on the weak."

Buffy chewed the inside of her cheek in deep concentration when she had an epiphany. "Finn has been acting totally wiggy ever since we went to the zoo!"

As soon as she spoke, Tina came running in her white Keds looking a little out of breath.

"They found Herbert," she said raspily.

"The pig?" asked Buffy.

"Dead. And also, eaten. Principal Figgins has been freaking out," Tina cringed.

Buffy scoffed. "Testosterone, huh?"

xxx

Rachel ducked her head low as she snuck onto a balcony high above the Carmel High auditorium. She crouched behind the spotlights as the coach called out routine 5, 6, 7, 8's down below to the show choir dancing in skintight red chantilly lace, their faces masked by scarlet fabric. Rachel knew that Jesse was among one of the Vocal Adrenaline dancers, and hoped her boyfriend wouldn't blow her cover.

She watched intently. Sneaking into the school to spy was sort of thrilling, but she tried to steady her breath so she wouldn't be heard. They look amazing, she thought to herself as they busted out the Bad Romance routine to only the voice of their coach's calm and sharp orders, stiff under all of the lace.

"Okay, enough," Rachel heard the coach say, and peered down at the woman to see what the disturbance was, "You guys aren't getting it. You're letting the costumes do all the work. Theatricality isn't about crazy outfits. It's not enough to douse yourselves with gasoline. You have to light yourselves on fire to make it work."

A smile danced across Rachel's lips as she repeated the spirited Coach Corcoran's words in her mind. It was more or less the attitude she lived by, but she'd never been able to articulate it into such a beautiful metaphor. God, she's good, thought Rachel.

"Being theatrical doesn't mean you have to be a nuclear explosion. It can be like... Like, a quiet storm. You just have to radiate emotion. Express what's deep inside you. That's what theatricality is truly about. Do I have to demonstrate? Funny Girl, E flat."

Rachel bit down hard on her bottom lip in excitement. Exactly what I would have done, she thought smugly, Barbra. I could do it in my sleep.

The lace clad members of Vocal Adrenaline flooded off the stage and into the audience as Ms. Corcoran took the centre, shaking her thick mane of black hair behind her, a confident trace of a smirk on her face. She looked into a prop mirror that sat onstage, looking introspective as she began to sing.

"Funny... Did you hear that? Funny. Yeah, the guy said honey..." she sang, "You're a funny girl."

Rachel held her breath sharply, a heavy ball building in her chest. Ms. Corcoran turned her head back to the audience with a sad smile, her eyes sparkling playfully.

"That's me. I just keep them in stitches. Double in half. Oh, I may be all wrong for the guy, I'm good for a laugh. I guess it's not funny..."

Rachel's eyebrows knitted together nervously and her knees knocked together until she gripped them in her palms and steadied herself. Shelby Corcoran had the voice that Rachel had played and memorized in her mind, until she could practically hear when the woman smiled. But now it was so new and fresh and exhilarating, to hear that voice somewhere other than her mind and her fathers' old cassette tape player.

Without thinking, Rachel rose from her seat. Blowing her cover wasn't a concern anymore. She would follow that voice to the ends of the earth. She heard Shelby singing but the words didn't register past her eardrums as she trotted down the steps from the balcony to the auditorium, feeling like a little girl again in her blue and white striped short sleeved cardigan and her frilly black skirt.

"Ms. Corcoran," she called out when she was close enough to the stage, and she could feel her own heart pulsing in her ears when the woman looked down at her with the same chocolate fountain eyes she saw every day in the mirror, "I'm Rachel Berry. I'm your daughter."

As the music faded out, you could hear the sound of a pin dropping in the wide Carmel auditorium, as Shelby Corcoran wrapped her arms around her chest and looked down at Rachel. Shelby looked at her with a longing stare as if she'd been waiting for her daughter forever, and yet she had a comfort in her eyes as if they were together only yesterday.


	17. The Hyenas

"Did you ever regret it?"

Shelby turned to her daughter. She still had trouble with the concept. Her's. Not that she had trouble with the fact that Rachel was a relative. Not at all. The two women looked so similar, even their voices had a familiar booming edge. It was the part where Rachel, in a sense, belonged to her. Shelby always imagined that reuniting with her daughter would be like a lioness reuniting with her cub, but it was very different. Rachel was very different than Shelby ever imagined. As little as she knew about her, she could tell that Rachel's confidence was only a front, and what she really was, was vulnerable and lost.

Shelby smacked her lips together to answer the question.

"Yes. Then no. Then so much," Shelby sighed, "I saw you sing at Sectionals. You were extraordinary. It's hard for a Lima girl to hold attention, but you command it. There's something about you that draws people to you, Rachel. Magic. Do you know what I mean?"

Rachel smiled gratefully and stared at the ground, feigning the modesty she was always told she needed to be likeable. Shelby pursed her lips. No, Rachel didn't know what she meant. Shelby could tell all too well.

"How much did your fathers tell you about me?"

Rachel shook her head. "Nothing."

Shelby nodded. "That's too bad... You have a lot to learn."

"About you?" asked Rachel, looked up and tucking loose hair behind her ear.

"Yes. And other things."

Rachel smiled, too naively for Shelby's liking. "Genetics are pretty amazing. You see the world with the same fierce theatricality as I do."

Shelby nodded, her eyebrows knitted together in a rare moment of honesty. "You've missed so much."

Rachel looked at her birth mother's forlorn expression as she sunk into the polyester auditorium seat beside her. "So, tell me."

Shelby shook her head and laughed. "How do you feel?"

"Thirsty," Rachel replied.

Shelby stared at her searchingly.

"When I was little and I used to get sad, my dads would bring me a glass of water. It got so I couldn't tell if I was sad or thirsty," she explained with a nostalgic smile.

Shelby opened and closed her mouth, searching for the words to say. Rachel just sat their smiling in her schoolgirl outfit. It made Shelby's stomach turn, how simple and mundane she was. She thought they were so alike, and yet she had no idea. She cursed herself for not leaving the girl with more than just her cozy suburban life. She should have left her some inkling of the person she could have become, if she only knew her own potential.

"You're special, Rachel," sighed Shelby, "Even if you don't know it yet."

Rachel smiled, but didn't hide her confusion. "What do you mean?"

Shelby sighed and searched for the words to explain, without scaring the girl away, but she gave up before she even started.

"I shouldn't have done this," Shelby sighed sadly, rising from her seat and slinging her bulky black purse over the crook of her elbow, "This was supposed to be different. You were supposed to be... different."

Rachel frowned down at the carpeted floors, stung and confused. "What was I supposed to be?"

Shelby closed her eyes, honing the strength inside her. "You're a lovely girl, Rachel, truly. It's not you, it's me."

Rachel raised her eyebrows, irritated. Shelby could tell that was a line she heard one too many times. "It's me," she sighed to herself.

"No, Rachel," Shelby sighed, raising her hand to her temple as Rachel rose from her seat, "If circumstances were different... You're not my daughter. You're LeRoy and Hiram's daughter. Not mine. I'm sorry. But I need to learn to stop trying to change the past."

Rachel's lip suddenly quivered. She wasn't as good at hiding her emotions as Shelby was. "Can't we just go to dinner or something? Just to get over the initial shock?" she asked.

Shelby looked at her with bleakness in her brown eyes. "I'm so sorry, Rachel," said Shelby.

Rachel furrowed her brow, upset and frustrated, and stormed out of the auditorium with her brown hair flowing behind her. Shelby sighed and looked up at the stage, angry at herself. Why did she have to tamper with that poor girl's life? Show her a mother figure and then take her away simultaneously? So deep in thought and regret, she barely noticed Jesse entering the auditorium, if it weren't for the flash of red lace covering him from top to bottom that caught her eye.

"What happened?" he asked.

He looked breathless, having just torn off his mask, his head of raven colored curls free from the binding fabric.

"It didn't work out," Shelby replied, tight lipped.

Jesse eyes swiveled from her to the door, fearful. Shelby was the only one he ever let his guard down in front of, his emotions playing like a film, his eyes being the screens. With her, they showed anything but their trademark playfulness. They could be frightened, hurt, loving. Honest.

"Can I fix it?"

Shelby smiled at the boy. "Jesse, you carried out your mission to perfection. Really. You have no idea how grateful I am."

She caressed his cheek a moment, giving him a comforting smile. "So why didn't it work out?" he asked.

Shelby sighed. How could she explain herself?

"Rachel's too far gone with the life she's lived. There's no way I can teach her everything."

Jesse frowned. "Of course you can. You taught me."

"You were ready and willing to learn, sweetie. Rachel's just so well adapted to her own reality, it would be selfish of me to change her world so... drastically."

"But Buffy... I told you my theory that she's some sort of rogue demon hunter? Rachel's not only her best friend, but her confidante. Don't you think she'd already be adjusted to the supernatural?"

"Possibly. But if so, Rachel has been too used to looking at it from the outside in. If she knew that she was one of us..."

"She should be glad to be one of us!"

Shelby was taken aback by his spirited pride. "Don't be angry," Shelby smiled playfully.

Jesse scoffed. "I can't help it. Rachel is so... Why shouldn't she be perfectly happy to end up like you? Every woman should."

"Jesse, stop. You're too prone to flattering me. To each their own."

"I just hate the thought that she would deny this life. Your life, and who you are."

"It's not her denying me, Jesse, it's me denying her. I'm the bad guy here. Contrary to what you believe, I'm not perfect."

Jesse clenched his jaw. "You don't need her, anyways. If you believe you can't teach her, then for the last time, let me be your legacy."

Shelby smiled sadly. "You know that that's not what I want, Jesse."

"But I have it, don't I? The power that you're always talking about? That magnetism?"

"Jesse..."

Looking into the boy's determined gray eyes was enough to break her heart. He loved her so much. Too much.

"I want the Corcoran name to live on, Jesse. I will find someone to carry out my legacy, but you won't be it. I'm sorry."

Jesse frowned. "I understand." He could disagree so strongly, but he would never say a word against her. "But people to carry out your legacy of witchcraft don't exactly come and go."

"I'll continue to need your help, then."

He nodded his head, his eyes on her like a puppy, eager to please. "Anything."

"You're too good to me," she smiled, and ran her fingers through his hair as he pulled her in close to breath in her fiery scent.

"I love you," he said, wholeheartedly.

She didn't reply, but brought her lips to his and took his breath away.

xxx

"I may or may not have found something..."

"What is it?" asked Buffy, leaning forward eagerly over the library table.

Studying was giving her a headache and she was happy to hear any lead the Tina might have.

"Well, Finn started acting weird when he came back from the zoo, right?"

"Uh huh," Buffy nodded.

"Well, people in the Serengeti talk about animal possession throughout the ages. I totally should have remembered that."

"Which is?"

"There are these animal worshippers called primals, and they think that, well, humanity is sort of this perversion of spirit. To them, being an animal is holy. They do this ritual to draw the spirit of the animal into themselves."

"And then they start acting like those animals?"

"Only the most predatory animals..."

"So Finn was possessed by some lion or gorilla or something?"

"I guess so," shrugged Tina.

"So what happens to the person once the animal spirit is in them?"

Tina bit her lip. "They don't really have a use for their human body anymore, so they sort of... disintegrate."

Buffy turned pale, her eyes falling to the wooden surface of the table. "We have to find Finn."

xxx

The sound of Rachel's penny loafers clicking against the hard linoleum of McKinley High weren't any louder than the pounding through her head and the drumming in her heart. Tears were stuck behind her eyes and she couldn't will them to come out. She was in shock. A moment she dreamt about all her life was brutally dashed right in front of her.

As overachieving as Rachel Berry was, she was still plenty used to social rejection, but she never let it get her down. No matter how many lab partners ditched her or cute boys refused to take her to the Sadie Hawkins dance, she never let it break her spirit, and she went on pursuing what she wanted with the same determination.

But somehow, this was different. To have your own mother reject you - to see her eyes sink to the floor in disappointment when she meets you... What was she looking for? Rachel asked herself. What about me is so repulsive?

She slipped into an empty classroom where she could catch her breath before next period and let what happened really sink in. She pondered on taking the day off and telling her dads about what happened. They would initially be angry that she cut class, but they'd understand what she's been through and try to make her feel better. She regretted ever looking for her mother now. She wished Jesse had never planted the idea in her mind.

As she blinked, willing tears to her dry eyes, she noticed a white, gnarled cage in back of the classroom, smaller than a dog kennel and bigger than a chicken coop, tipped over with a hole ripped in the wire as if someone had stolen what was inside. She gaped at it, momentarily preoccupied from her own drama, and moved closer to the cage, wondering what did this, when she heard a crunch under her shoe. She lifted her foot to find a fraction of bone, and her eyes widened, a ball forming in the pit of her stomach. Whatever was in the cage before was dead meat now; literally.

She rose from where she was hunkered down, turned and gasped, the top of her head just reaching the shoulders of the tall and broad Finn Hudson. He smiled down at her crookedly, mockery and contentment dancing in his hazel eyes.

"Finn," she breathed as he smiled down at her, cornering her into the classroom, "We need to talk."

Before she could confront him about his erratic behavior, he pounced her with his heavy body, knocking the wind out of her and pinning her down to the ground. He pressed her shoulders down so she couldn't move, and smiled wider with his teeth bared.

"Get off of me!" cried Rachel as he snarled at her, his eyes wide with startling excitement.

"Is that what you really want? We both know what you really want," he said, his voice low in a predatory grumble as she struggled under his weight, "You want drama. Excitement. That's why you're sneakin' around with that Vocal Adrenaline guy. Sleeping with the enemy."

Rachel bit her bottom lip and relaxed under his grip. "You're in trouble, Finn. There's something wrong with you. You're-"

"Dangerous. Like your mystery guy. Do you know how long I've waited, for us to just stop pretending we aren't attracted to each other. Until Quinn stopped kidding herself that I could settle for anyone but you. What she did to me was a blessing in disguise. I'm a free man, Rachel."

Rachel tried to steady her breathing. Remain calm, so that Finn would lose his grip. But it only made her more nervous.

"I can feel you shaking," he smiled maliciously, "I like it when you're scared. The more I scare you, the better you smell."

He buried his head into her neck, drinking her scent in and breathing it out, again and again, his hot breath sticky on her skin. As he nuzzled her neck, he loosened his grip, and she slowly wriggled an arm out of his captivity.

"Ah ah ah," he snapped as he lifted his head and gripped her arm, pinning it back down.

She winced in pain and he brought his face down not a centimeter away from hers, when all of a sudden he was knocked back by a powerful blow, and Rachel looked up to see Buffy's foot colliding with his face, knocking him out almost instantly with her slayer strength. She held out her hand and Rachel gripped it gratefully, lifted her up onto her feet, breathless and frightened.

Rachel's eyebrows knitted tightly together. "What's wrong with him?" she asked as Tina stumbled in breathlessly.

"We're thinking animal possession," replied Tina.

Rachel looked down at the floor, her eyebrows rising. "Of course," she mumbled.

"What?" asked BUffy.

"He started acting strangely after he left the Hyena House in the zoo with Azimio and Karofsky," said Rachel.

"Do you think those two are possessed, too?" asked Buffy.

"We wouldn't really know the difference if they were," said Rachel snidely, looking down at Finn's limp body, "Where do we put him?"

"There's a cage backstage in the auditorium," suggested Tina.

Buffy nodded. "'Kay. You grab his feet."

The three girls hauled the heavy boy backstage of the school's auditorium and locked him up in the small costume cage, hoping he wouldn't rip the gaudy outfits to ribbons.

"That oughta hold him," groaned Buffy, "Where's Mr. Schuester?"

"He got called to some teacher's meeting," said Tina.

"What are we gonna do?" asked Rachel, chewing her bottom lip, "How do we get Finn back?"

"Right now I'm a little more worried about what the rest of the pack is up to," Buffy replied, shaking her golden mane behind her shoulders.

"The rest of the pack was spotted outside Herbert's cage," Mr. Schuester said solemnly as he stepped behind the curtain of the auditorium stage, briefly glancing at Finn, unconscious in the costume cage, "They were sent to Coach Tanaka."

Mr. Schuester sighed, his eyes glued to the ground.

"They didn't hurt him, did they?" asked Buffy.

"They... ate him," replied Will.

Tina's shoulders slumped in shock and Rachel shuddered.

"They ate Coach Tanaka?" Buffy repeated hoarsely.

"The official theory is that wild dogs somehow got into his office. But there was no one at the scene," said Will.

"B-But Finn didn't... I mean, he was with me," said Rachel.

"Well, that's a small relief," sighed Will.

"Will, how do we stop this?" asked Buffy, "How do you trans-possess someone?"

"The accounts I found are pretty thin on the ground," said Will, "There's this talk of a predatory act, but the exact ritual is..."

"I read something..." Tina piped up, "About how the spirits can transfer to another human."

"Well, that's great. Any volunteers?" asked Buffy.

"Good point," Tina said quietly.

"What we need to do is put the hyena back in the hyena," said Buffy.

"I bet that zookeeper could help us," suggested Rachel, "The one who was guarding the hyena house. Maybe he didn't quarantine those hyenas because they were sick."

Buffy nodded. "We should talk to him. Somebody's got to watch Finn, though."

"I will," offered Rachel.

"Rach, are you sure? If he wakes up-"

"I'll be alright. Go," urged Rachel.

Buffy threw Rachel the keys to the cage and said, "Come on," to Will and Tina, who followed her offstage.

xxx

"Rachel."

Rachel looked up from absent mindedly inspecting the costumes left over from the high school productions over the years to see Finn sitting upright in behind the cage, looking at her with his usual naivety.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, wary.

Finn chuckled humorlessly. "Like someone kicked me in the face... What am I doing here?"

"You're... resting," replied Rachel, smoothing down her skirt as she walked nearer.

"You guys got me locked up now," Finn said bitterly, rising to his feet and clutching his head.

"Because you're sick," said Rachel, standing a few feet away from him, out of his reach, "Buffy said-"

"Oh, yeah. Buffy and her all purpose solution of shoot first, ask questions later. I'd love to see what she'd do to somebody who was really sick," said Finn, pressing close against the cage and blinking at Rachel.

"That's not fair. Buffy has saved both of our lives-"

"Before Buffy came here, our lives didn't need that much saving, did they? Weren't things simpler before?"

Rachel's eyes dropped to the ground. Before Buffy came here, she and Finn had never even spoken to each other. "I guess so," she said quietly.

"Rachel," Finn sighed, "I know there's something wrong with me. I think it's getting worse. But I can't just stand around waiting to see of it's time for Buffy to kick me in the face again. I want you to help me. I want you."

"I am helping you."

Finn scoffed. "You're following her orders."

"Buffy's trying to help you, too. You know that."

"If I'm so dangerous, then why would she leave you alone with me?"

"Because I told her to."

"Why?" he asked softly.

Without realizing, Rachel moved closer to Finn, and she didn't know how near she was until she could feel his hot breath on her face through the metal bars of the cage.

"Because I know you better than she does. And I wanted to make sure... you were still you," she explained, her voice quiet and dream like as she stared in the boy's eyes.

"You know I am," he said equally as hazily, not breaking the slow, sleepy atmosphere, "Look at me... Look."

Rachel teetered closer, drawn in by his sleepy smile and warm hazel eyes.

"Finn," she whispered, as he lunged forward, his hand reaching through the bar and grasping air as she jumped backwards, her heart thudding against her chest from his sudden attack, "Now I know."

Finn rattled the bars and cried out in frustration as Rachel turned her back, to continue pretending to inspect the costumes.

"Let me out! Let me out!"

xxx

"The students are possessed by the hyenas?" asked the wild haired zookeeper, scratching the scruff on his chin.

"Yes," cried Mr. Schuester.

"Are you sure?" he asked, moving behind the desk of the small Customer Service hut in the middle of the zoo, eyeing the educational leaflets pinned to the corkboard behind him.

"We are really, really sure," replied Buffy, her hands rested on the counter between her and the warden.

"You don't seem surprised by this," said Mr. Schuester.

"The zoo imported those hyenas from Africa. There was something strange about them from day one. I did some homework. That particular breed is very rare. Totally vicious. Historically, they were worshipped by these guys-"

"Primals," said Tina.

"Yeah, creepy guys. Now, they had rituals for taking the hyena spirits, but I don't see how that could happen to your kids," said the warden, leaning in for some explanation.

"W-We don't know exactly how the ritual works. We know it involves a predatory act and some kind of symbol..." explained Tina.

"A predatory act? Of course!" exclaimed the zoo warden, "That makes sense. Where did you read that?"

"Does it matter?" Buffy cried, growing impatient.

"I think we have enough information that together, we could pull off a reverse trans-possession."

"What do we do?" asked Buffy.

"We've got to get those possessed students to the hyena cage right away. I'll meet you there and we can begin the rituals."

"Well, we can guarantee you one of them, but there are two more and we have no idea where they are," said Buffy.

"I would worry about that. After hyenas feed and rest, they track the missing member of their pack. They should come right to you."

Buffy breathed deep, a light in her mind flickering on and showing up in her eyes.

"Rachel," she breathed, ominous.

xxx

"Rachel," Finn called from the cage as she sorted through mounds of costumes.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not listening," she said, and went back to sorting.

Organizing was the only thing that kept her mind off of everything she's been going through lately. She wished that this thing with Finn would blow over as soon as possible she could leave and wrap herself in Jesse's arms, telling all about the awful day she's been having.

"Rachel," she heard him call again.

"Finn! Shut up!" she snarled, becoming frustrated.

"Rachel..." she heard someone call again softly, but this time, it was a much deeper voice than Finn.

Rachel turned her head around cautiously just in time to see Karofsky and Azimio slashing through the red curtain and bounding backstage. Rachel's heart bounced around under her ribcage as she leapt up from the clothes pile and sped offstage, out of the auditorium, hoping she could escape while the meaty jocks freed Finn.

She slid down the empty hall in her penny loafers, frantically whipping her head around for where to go as she heard the crashing and ripping echoing from the open door of the auditorium as Karofsky and Azimio unhinged the cage. She got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the silence came, and she darted through the hall, pulling at the classroom doors. She found an open one and slid inside as she heard quick footsteps approaching.

She held her breath and hid under the teacher's desk in the darkness, hoping she was the only one who could hear her quickening heartbeat. She bit down hard on her lip for what felt like twenty minutes before she was content that she couldn't hear any sign of movement outside of the moonlit classroom. She crawled out from under the desk and brushed the dust off her skirt, before she turned around and slapped her hand to her mouth, stifling a scream.

Finn smirked from across the desk. How long had he been there? she asked herself. Without a word, Finn growled and pounced across the desk, but Rachel darted away, finally happy with how tiny she was. She thundered out the door, but slammed against the broad chest of Dave Karofsky, like a brick wall. As Azimio neared, Rachel knew nothing could save her now. Except perhaps for the hard knock of a fire extinguisher against Dave's head. Rachel's eyes widened as Buffy appeared out of nowhere with the big red contraption in her hands.

In a flash, Mr. Schuester was pulling Rachel away and sheltering her under his arms, running away with her as Azimio and Finn tried to corner Buffy. Followed by Tina, the four of them slipped away in a janitor's closet, silent with fear as their possessed classmates scraped and thumped the door.

"I think they're gone," said Buffy, as the noise disappeared.

"They could be faking it," said Rachel.

"No. They're hungry. They'll be looking for somebody weak. I'm really sorry, Rachel, I didn't know they were gonna come after Finn!"

"We have to lead them back to the zoo if we want to stop this," said Mr. Schuester.

"Before their next meal."

"Buffy, individually, they're almost as strong as you. In a group, they're..."

"They're tough. But they're getting dumber. You guys go the zoo and I will bring them to you."

Buffy fled out of the door, leaving the others gaping at her swift exit. Rachel's knees were knocking together too hard for her to move.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Mr. Schuester, her eyebrows knitting together in a V.

Rachel nodded. "Just... startled."

"Come on, we have to get to the zoo. Don't worry, Buffy will take care of it," said Tina, resting a hand on Rachel's shoulder.

Rachel nodded and followed them out of the supply closet. She knew that Buffy Summers always showed up in the nick of time to save the day, but it wasn't being in danger that made Rachel shake. It was the way Finn looked at her with the hyena in his eyes; the piercing stare that told her she was his prey. It wasn't Finn at all anymore.

xxx

Buffy bristled. A few blocks down from the school, she spotted the three burly boys as she pounced onto a car with a small family inside, shrieking in terror. Buffy pulled the nearest one - the broad Karofsky - off of the minivan, and jumped up on it, her boots making a tinny sound on the roof of the family car. She kicked Azimio off, and glared down at Finn, who had his eyes intently on her.

"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to play with your food?" she quipped, her voice acidic and irrationally angry, having to leave her shaking friend after this boy's attack.

Buffy stood, refreshingly tall on the roof of the car, staring down at them.

"Come on. You know what you want," she said, her hands rested on her hips.

She hopped off and ran in the other direction, not slowing down a second as she heard the pound of their sneakers on the pavement behind her. They howled and laughed like animals.

xxx

Mr. Schuester skidded to a halt in front of the Hyena House with the girls sprinting behind him.

"Where's the zoo keeper?" asked Tina.

"He must be inside," said Mr. Schuester, "I'll go and prepare things. You just warn us when you hear Buffy and the boys coming, okay?"

Mr. Schuester ducked under the yellow tape and trotted down the path inside. He found himself in a circular den; a wrought iron fence on the other side of the room, with a pit where the hyenas must be.

"Hello?" he called as he stepped in deeper, and shook as he turned and saw the zoo keeper waiting there with a ceremonial robe wrapped around his lanky build and blue and white face paint caked on his face. He looked eery, his beady black eyes set in the pale make up.

"Oh. Hi..." he said, startled by the zoo warden's appearance, "Are you prepared for the... trans-possession?"

"Almost," said the zoo warden, eyeing the ground.

Mr. Schuester looked down too, raising his eyebrows at the crude spray painted sketch of a hyena's howling head.

"Oh, right. The hyena symbol. You'd need that to, um... Well, this would be here when the kids first came... Why would you...?" something sunk in as Mr. Schue lifted his head and looked at the eerie warden once more, "How frustrating. That my students could do what you couldn't."

"It bothered me," admitted the zoo keeper, "But the power will be mine."

As Mr. Schuester attempted a quick exit, the zoo warden's heavy wooden stick came hard against the teacher's back, and again on his head, knocking him into an unconscious heap on the floor.

xxx

A chill ran up Rachel's spine as she swore she heard laughter in the distance.

"Is that...?"

Tina whipped her head around and heard the quick clacking of Buffy's boots approaching. "Come on!" she cried and ran under the yellow tape, followed quickly by Rachel.

"Mr. Schuester!" Rachel called as the girls made it to the den at the end of the path, and skidded to a halt behind Tina.

The zoo warden stood there in the centre of the spray painted circle that looked like a hyena's head.

"Where are the hyenas for the trans-possession?" asked Tina.

"They're right here in the feeding area," said the zoo warden, and caught hold of Tina's arm as she lunged forward, "Stay back! They haven't been fed!"

"Where's Mr. Schuester?" asked Rachel.

"He's lying in wait," replied the zookeeper.

"They're almost here. Shouldn't you bring the hyenas out?" asked Tina.

"When the time is right," the zookeeper said impatiently, "I'm gonna need your help."

The zookeeper took a leather tie from his pocket and wrapped it around Tina's wrists, binding her hand together behind her back.

"Wh-What are you doing?" asked Rachel as she stood by, when heard a voice call out from outside. 'They're right behind me!' Buffy called shrilly.

"That's Buffy! Hurry!" said Tina, looking down at her tied up wrists, "What is this?"

"A predatory act, remember?" said the zookeeper, pulling Tina roughly to his side and slipping a knife out of his sleeve.

"Right," replied Tina as he held the cold blade to her throat, "You'll pretend to slash my throat and put the evil in the hyenas?"

"Something like that," snarled the zookeeper.

Fear illuminated Rachel's eyes, and as the thud of Buffy's boots grew louder, she shouted, "Buffy, it's a trap!"

As Buffy appeared the the entrance of the small dome-like den, she stopped in her tracks, confused by the sight of the zookeeper in his ceremonial garb, with his knife pressed hard against Tina's neck. As she stood stock still, Finn sprinted behind and pounced her from the back like a panther, knocking her to the ground and slashing viciously at her, flanked by Azimio and Karofsky.

Tina winced as the zookeeper shouted something in her ear; an African incantation. Finn and his cronies looked up, their faces blank with the first signs of vulnerability since their class had left the zoo the other day. They're eyes flashed yellow simultaneously, and Rachel swore that she could see his own calm hazel returning into his irises. The zookeeper's eyes burned yellow, and he let out a low growl as the footballers stood up, disoriented. He moved in to bite Tina with his rapidly sharpening teeth, but Rachel let out a scream and thundered into the man, knocking him down and landing on him in a heap. The zookeeper threw Rachel off of him, furious, when Buffy leapt up, pissed.

She didn't know what it was that made her so angry. Was it that her hair kept getting messed up, or more so that her best friend kept getting thrown around like a rag doll and she was done watching it happen? She sent a flying kick to the zookeeper's face. One powerful kick that sent him reeling backwards and teetering over the fence. One more poke to his scrawny chest and he fell right in, and Buffy could hear the growls and the laughs of the hyenas below. The zookeeper's screams filled the den until he was silent, and all that was heard with the hyenas sloppy chewing. She shivered as Mr. Schuester approached from a hidden door in the den.

"Did I miss anything?"

xxx

"Sorry about football, Finn. Principal Figgins said that they won't find a replacement until next fall," said Rachel.

She hung off of Finn's arm the next day in school, where everything felt a lot more settled down, except Rachel herself. As Tina and Buffy walked alongside the would-be couple through the courtyard, she got a sense that Rachel didn't feel quite right.

"It's cool. I mean, it sucks that Coach Tanaka died, but I can always take up basketball until next year. Um, and I had nothing to do with that, right? Coach Tanaka getting... eaten?" asked Finn.

"Right," nodded Buffy, "You only ate the pig."

"I ate a pig?" asked Finn, "Yuck!"

"Well, it wasn't really you," said Rachel.

"Thank God I don't remember anything," said Finn, "Sorry, guys."

"It's fine. This is definitely the superior Finn. Accept no substitutes," said Buffy.

"Come on, we're gonna be late," said Rachel, "We'll see you at lunch."

"Cool," nodded Finn, as Tina followed the two girls away.

Tina stopped and looked back over her shoulder and smiled knowingly at Finn.

"You okay?" he asked.

Tina turned around and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, it's just strange. I've been reading up on animal possession and I can't find anything anywhere about memory loss afterwards."

Finn paled. "Did you tell them that?"

"Your secret dies with me," smirked Tina.


	18. The Spiders

Buffy looked up from a dog-eared geography textbook in her lap to see Rachel Berry grinning at her with a look of smug excitement.

"Rachel?"

Normally Buffy wouldn't be fazed by Rachel peering over her school work like a mother hen, but there was something different about this scenario. Rachel wasn't in the archway of the choir room with the pea green locker doors as a background to her vibrant smile. Instead, she was peering into Buffy's bedroom door with a lilac purse clutched tight to her person.

"Hello," she smiled, and walked in, "Your mother let me in. She's very nice. She offered me a snickerdoodle and complimented my headband."

Buffy stared at the girl, slack jawed. She wasn't expecting anyone to creep in on her. Well, maybe her mom. That's why she had a textbook open on her lap and some notes sprawled around the bed she was sitting on. She's sure her mom would give her a lecture if she caught her trolling on Tumblr and perving on pictures of Ian Somerhalder without even a little study done.

"Did we have plans?" asked Buffy.

The thing was, as close as the girls had come to be, they didn't make many plans outside of school when they weren't vampire hunting or occult researching plans. Buffy and Rachel didn't do a lot of girlie things.

"Oh, no," Rachel shook her head and took a seat on the end of Buffy's bed, "Something just occurred to me, and I had to drive over and tell you."

"What is it?"

"Well, Buffy, we've known each other almost an entire academic year, and in that time, we've become what's best described as 'best friends."

Buffy blinked. "Yeah?"

"We may not have the best chemistry, while your superiority complex and my ruthless ambition clash, but I think the following evidence will prove to you that we are close individuals."

She pulled out a small refill pad out of her trench coat pocket, as well as a ballpoint pen. Buffy reached over her nightstand for a glass of water of gulped it down. Her mouth was still burning from the spicy, half-eaten Slim Jim that was tossed on her bed sheet, and she could tell this was going to take a while.

"Exhibit A," said Rachel, "Our lockers are beside each other, and instead of remaining cordial neighbors, we share delightful anecdotes every morning! I mean, we know things about each other. I know about your pickle story, you know about my run in with Carlos Mencia. And I know all your fears. Mannequins, hospitals... death. And you know mine."

"Relaxing?"

"I can even appreciate your sarcastic sense of humor, and you can take my high maintenance nature with a grain of salt. You can, can't you? I'm not creeping you out?"

Buffy smirked. "No, I'm fully uncreeped. I kind of feel like I'm in class, though."

"Good, good," Rachel moved on, flipping a page in her refill pad, "Exhibit B; we've saved each other's lives countless times. Me with that time I helped you out of the sewers. And uh, you, every weekend since. Exhibit C; I got you your first date in Lima. Granted, it was an epic fail, but a date's a date."

"Rachel, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Is this going somewhere?"

Rachel sighed and tucked her notebook back into her jacket.

"These are full of fat and grease, you know," she replied, flicking at the Slim Jim wrapper with the half eaten stick of meat still inside.

"Did you want to talk to me about something? Something that occurred to you?"

Rachel nodded. "It occurred to me that you and I are best friends in only the share-a-lunch-and-tell-are-your-secrets kind of way that every girl craves, and yet we've never had a sleepover, or done anything really... best friendy... outside of school."

Buffy was surprised by the heavy tone in her usually-light-hearted friend's voice. "Best friendy? You're starting to talk like me."

Rachel grinned at the ground.

"Do you want to start doing ... best friendy, stuff?" asked Buffy.

"I guess so," sighed Rachel, "It occured to me that I really need a friend right now. And you're a ripe candidate."

Buffy was almost startled by the ancient sadness in Rachel's face as she stared off absentmindedly. "You have me," said Buffy, pushing her textbooks away so nothing was between them, "Shoot."

Rachel laughed, as if nothing could ever be that simple. "Where to start? I guess I could tell you about what happened with my mom."

Buffy screwed up her face in the sadness and disappointment she felt for her friend.

"Oh, Rachel. What happened?"

xxx

Quinn strode into school with her big pregnant belly sticking out in front of her. These days she had to waddle around the hallways, susceptible to the cruel prank that kids have started to do where they stick post its to her shoes, and she's unable to bend down and flick them off. It was times like those when she was glad to have the glee club. Those guys were always picking the crude notes off of her ballet flats.

"Sup, Milf," greeted Puck as he caught up with her (it wasn't hard) and swaggered alongside her as she waddled to History.

The bad boy had scared off every other student from calling Quinn a milf, but he still did it himself. He claimed he had a right to considering he's the one who crowned her Queen Milf. His words.

"Please stop calling me that," she said, more tired than forceful.

"Wait," he said and she stopped in her tracks while he picked a pink post-it off of the back of her left shoe, "Pressed Lemon. That's a new one."

"What's a pressed lemon?" she asked, her blond eyebrows knitted together.

Puck stifled a smirk. "A lemon... that's pressed."

Quinn scowled. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew it was probably something repulsive, and she'd just have to search it on Urban Dictionary later.

"Why won't you tell me where you've been staying?"

An alarm rang out in Quinn's mind. One that screamed 'Lie. Lie! LIE!'.

"I told you, I've been staying at the Lima Motel," she replied, continuing on her waddle to class.

"Yeah, accept that I visited the Lima Motel the other day to bring you pork rinds, and they said there was no Quinn Fabray staying there. I thought maybe you changed your name, but no blond teen mom came out or in in the last three months. So where have you been?"

Quinn gaped at him. "You brought me pork rinds?"

Puck smirked. "I know you've been having a bacon craving. It was all I could rustle up with the change in Mom's purse."

"You stole your mom's money to buy me pork rinds?" she scowled.

"I had to; my pool cleaning business went under! That's not the point. I want to know what environment you're raising our baby in."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I'm not raising a baby. I'm... curing it away like a ham and roasting it until it's finished, and then I'll give it to some hungry family who deserves it. I'm like a glorified deli owner."

"What's with the Fabrays and meats? Okay, fine, whatever. Maybe I was more worried about you than the baby ..."

Quinn smiled bittersweetly. "That's sweet, Puck."

"So, where have you been staying?"

"You don't need to know!" she cried as they found their way in front of the classroom door to History with Mr. Perry.

"No? Well, some rumors been going around about Santana."

"What? Why? Santana's gone..."

"Maybe. But her vacant house is still there."

"Are you suggesting that I'm squatting in the Lopez's house?"

"Well, no. Maybe."

"I'm staying with a friend. You don't know her, so stay out of it."

"If I don't know her, why are you so eager to keep her a secret?"

"Stay out of it, Noah," she shook her head before walking into class, and slammed her books down on a table beside Wendell Sears, the weird kid with the dirty ponytail who pets bugs.

She drummed her fingers against the table as Mr. Perry carried out his lesson plan. Everything was so upside down these days. Her grades were dropping, her classmates snickered when she passed, and the only seat she could ever find available was the one next to weird Wendell.

"Wendell, can you open up page 217 and read the top paragraph. I want you all to note exactly why the Russian invasion failed. Go ahead, Wendell."

Wendell sighed beside Quinn and opened up his books, only to shriek with fear as the words curled up and crawled off the page. Quinn widened her eyes as Wendell screamed. Those weren't enchanted words. Those were spiders.

xxx

"I had the worst nightmare last night," sighed Buffy as she walked through the rapidly filling halls of McKinley as her schoolmates flooded out of their classrooms.

"Oh, me too!" gasped Rachel, "I was performing a solo at Regionals, but the only person in the audience was this creepy pink zebra who kept smiling at me. And he had braces!"

"You win," Buffy chuckled, "At least when I woke up my mom told me I was staying in LA with my dad this weekend, so that's exciting."

"Really?" Rachel gasped, "I've always wanted to go to LA. Do you see your dad a lot?"

"Not a whole lot," sighed Buffy, "I haven't seen him since we moved."

"When did they get divorced?"

"Well, it wasn't finalized until last year, but they were separated before that."

"That must have been harsh."

"That's the word you're looking forward. They were really good about it around me... but, still."

"My dads only ever bicker. Like when Dad changed the wallpaper in the den without consulting Papa about it... or like whenever Papa wears black and brown... Do you know why your parents split up?"

"I didn't ask. They just... stopped getting along. I'm sure I was a really big help, though. With all the slaying and everything. I was in so much trouble. I was a big mess."

Rachel frowned. "Now, Buffy, what did I tell you when we met? Your parents separation is not your fault!"

Buffy smiled gratefully. "You're right," she sighed.

"Buffy! I've been looking for you!" called Quinn Fabray, waddling their way with a mess of blond hair tied up lazily in a ponytail, "Spiders. Spiders everywhere!"

"Quinn, what are you talking about?" asked Buffy.

"Wendell opened his book in History class and there were spiders. In his book!" cried Quinn, only realizing how foolish she must sound, "It was... well, it was gross. I don't like spiders. What do they need all those legs for, anyway? For crawling on your face in the middle of the night! Doesn't it creep you out?"

Buffy smirked. "I don't know. Spiders aren't that bad."

"Oh, but if a bunch of mannequins crawled over your face-" started Quinn.

"Okay, okay. What am I supposed to do about spiders?"

Quinn picked at her fingers. "I don't know. Slay them?" she said pathetically.

Buffy smirked. "I think Mr. Schuester's foot can handle that kind of thing."

Quinn's bulbous belly lead the way into the choir room, her hand supporting the small of her back.

"Tina!" she called, flashing a dazzling smile, too enthusiastic.

"Yes?" asked Tina, looking up from her laptop balanced on her lap with Mike snuggled close at her side.

They didn't have glee club rehearsals until later in the day, but the choir room had become somewhat of a hangout for the show choir outcasts.

"I'm sure you can help me," said Quinn, easing herself into a chair beside the lace and leather clad bookworm. Rachel and Buffy snickered to themselves and took a seat.

"With what?" asked Tina, wide-eyed.

"Did you hear about what happened to Wendell in History?" asked Quinn, practically shivering from the thought of spindly black legs, "Spiders crawled out of his textbook! Out of nowhere!"

"Wow," sighed Tina.

"Don't you mean gross?"

"I think spiders are cool, actually."

Quinn wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yeah, but, you're morbid like that. And spiders don't just crawl out of people's books."

"I guess not..."

"And you're really good with research and stuff."

"So... you want Tina to research why how a spider got into Wendell's book?" asked Mike, raising one thin eyebrow with his arm slung around his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Well... yes. I mean, technically it wasn't one spider, it was many spiders," Quinn said, knitting her eyebrows together, "I don't want to sound like an idiot, it's just... There's something strange about this. And you know about that stuff."

"Why would Tina know about that stuff?" scoffed Mike.

The girls in the room shared an awkward glance amidst Mike's blissful ignorance. Tina blushed bright pink.

"B-Because she's so... gothy!" exclaimed Quinn.

"That's kind of stereotypical, don't you think?" asked Mike.

Quinn nodded profusely. "You're right. I don't know why I'm so narrow minded. But that doesn't mean you can't help me, right?" she asked, staring at Tina.

"Well... I guess I could take a look," Tina said reluctantly, "But there's not much to go on. It sounds pretty... normal."

"No, you weren't there. There were so many and they were huge..." Quinn shook the thought out of her head.

"Maybe you should just talk to Wendell himself."

Quinn nodded. "You're right. Buffy, Rachel," she called before easing back out of her chair and waddling away.

"Do we really have to go with?" Buffy asked Rachel as Quinn disappeared out the choir room door.

Rachel smiled. "If it's important to her."

The girls followed Quinn on her wild goose chase for weird Wendell, keeping a few meters of distance behind the waddling pregnant girl.

"I don't understand why she's making a big deal out of spiders," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Well, you made a big deal out of Sid the dummy, and you turned out to be right about him."

"Not exactly. And besides, Sid the dummy, an inanimate object, crawled into my room. Not normal. Spiders crawling around in a book doesn't sound particularly Hellmouthy."

"I guess not," sighed Rachel.

Buffy chewed her lip a moment. "You're okay, aren't you?"

"Of course I am."

"It's just, all that stuff you told me about what happened between you and your mom, it sounds really harsh."

"It's fine, Buffy. I barely knew Shelby. I don't need her in my life. I just wish I could tell Jesse how awful it was. I haven't seen him in days and he won't return my calls."

"Maybe he's busy with Vocal Adrenaline."

"Maybe," frowned Rachel, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Look, Quinn found weir- I mean, Wendell."

Out of the entrance, the two short girls neared as Quinn talked to weird Wendell out in the school's courtyard.

"How are you?" they heard their tall, blond classmate asking as they approached behind her.

"Huh?" asked Wendell, looking up from where he sat at the edge of a picnic table, his vacant eyes seeming to stare right through her.

"Are you okay?" she repeated slowly, leaning forward.

Wendell didn't answer, but looked back down at the wet pavement.

"Good talking to you, man," Buffy smiled and whirled around, only to be pulled back by Rachel.

"Did you guys want something?" asked Wendell.

"We just thought you might want to discuss what happened in History earlier," Rachel said, clasping her hands together like a therapist.

Wendell sighed. "I don't know what to say about that."

"There's nothing to say. You saw a bunch of insects. It's not exactly the Twilight Zone," said Buffy.

Wendell closed his eyes in frustration. "They're not insects. They're arachnids," he said, irritated.

"They're... from the Middle East?" asked Buffy.

Wendell glared at Buffy. "Spiders are arachnids. They have eight legs. Insects only have six. Why does everyone make that mistake?"

Buffy shrugged and the girls shuffled uncomfortably.

"I don't know..." Quinn said quietly, "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

Wendell's face grew dark and serious, and he waited until one long cloud passed before nodding stiffly.

"When?" asked Buffy.

"Lots of times," scowled Wendell.

"Ew," frowned Quinn, "You must hate spiders more than I do."

Wendell chuckled. "I don't hate spiders. I love them. They hate me."

The girls stared at the steely eyed boys when someone approached behind Buffy.

"I hope you studied for the Math test," said Morgan Ru in her red and white Cheerios uniform, her hip dropping.

"What math test?" asked Buffy, her face falling.

"The one in fourth period right now," Morgan rolled her eyes and sauntered away.

"There's a math test? Nobody told me!" Buffy panicked, "I'll catch up with you guys later."

Buffy ran off to cram for the unexpected quiz, leaving Quinn and Rachel gawking awkwardly at weird Wendell.

"What do you mean you love spiders?" asked Rachel, crossing her arms.

"It is platonic, right?" Quinn asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wendell pursed his lips. "I had the best collection in the tri-county area. Tarantulas and black widows... Then my folks shipped me off to wilderness camp. All my brother had to do was maintain their habitats. Instead, he left their heat lamp on for a week. When I came home, they were all dead. That's when the nightmares started," he explained, his voice shaky.

"Nightmares?" asked Rachel.

"It's always the same. I'm sitting there in the classroom. Teacher asks me to read something and I open up my book and there they are. Coming after me. Can you blame them after what I did?"

Quinn mouth hung open. "And that's how it happens? Every time?"

"I thought in class today, I'd just nodded off again. But then everyone else started screaming, too."

Quinn and Rachel glanced at each other, when Quinn threw Wendell a big fake smile. "Thanks for telling us, Wendell. You, uh... you see someone about that."

She tugged the back of Rachel's cable knit sweater and pulled the girl away from weird Wendell.

"Is it just me or is there something totally psycho about that guy?" she hissed at the shorter girl as they trudged out of the courtyard.

"Yeah... But do you think it's still worth looking into? I mean, it's pretty..."

Rachel trailed off as she spotted a figure off in the distance of the parking lot, exiting a hulking black SUV.

"Jesse," she exclaimed with a trace of a smile on her lips, "Quinn, I'll talk to you later."

She skipped off away from the blonde girl, leaving Quinn frowning bitterly. Rachel ran towards her boyfriend as fast as she could in a pair of ballet flats, a smile illuminating her face. She hadn't seen Jesse in what felt like for much too long, even though it was just a few days ago. She had so much to tell him. She slowed down as she neared and smiled in confusion. He was staring at her head on, his lips pulled together in a tight frown.

"Jesse?" she said quietly before she felt a thud and a crack on the back of her head. She grimaced at the strange feeling off something wet running through her hair but before she could turn to investigate, Vocal Adrenaline dressed in blue came bounding from behind the cars in the parking lot, egg in hand, and whipped them hard at Rachel. She winced as each egg cracked against her body and the yolks dripped off of her, staining her clothes and clumping in her hair.

She raised her hands to her head to protect herself, but it didn't really matter. She was drenched, hurt and humiliated, from someone she trusted the most. It felt like a year before the egging was over.

"I hear you're a vegan, Berry," said a curly haired girl from Vocal Adrenaline, who cackled at Jesse's side, "Those poor little egg foetuses are all over your conscience now."

"Do it, Jesse," barked another red-headed girl, handing Jesse an egg.

Jesse held up his egg as if pondering its very existence.

"Are you with us or not?"

Jesse sighed and clenched his jaw, and walked up to Rachel until he was barely an inch away. Rachel knitted her chestnut colored eyebrows together and braced herself for the hit.

"Do it," she nodded, "Break it like you broke my heart."

And sure enough, he cracked the egg over her head, the broken shell tangling her hair and the yolk dripping down her forehead, onto her nose, her chin... Her lip quivered and she felt hot tears springing up into her eyes. She ran off before Vocal Adrenaline could laugh in her face any longer.

xxx

Buffy wandered down the halls of McKinley looking lost as the crowd thinned out, students making their way to their classes. Morgan Ru chuckled at her from outside a classroom door.

"You don't know where the classroom is, do you? I mean, you've skipped Math every time we've had it. So did Puckerman. I figured you two were out throwing eggs at people or something."

"I was there the first day... I think," defended Buffy, "And I don't throw eggs at people!"

Morgan shrugged. "Well, me and my friends saw Berry wandering around the parking lot looking like an omelette, and seeing as you and Puck are the biggest troublemakers-"

"I am not a troublemaker! I-... Wait, you said Berry was covered in eggs? As in, Rachel Berry?"

Morgan nodded before she slipped into class.

"Rachel," Buffy mumbled before rushing off right passed class to find her friend. Rachel was already going through so much. She doesn't need to get egged by some high school jerks to top it all off. As she slipped out of the doors and into the courtyard, a little boy under the bleachers caught Buffy's eye. She looked at him a moment, curious. He just stared at her, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes, looking lost. She didn't get a chance to drag him to the Lost and Found. When she blinked, he was gone. She shook her head, and continued on down some steps to find Rachel, until yet another distraction occured. An ambulance thundered down out of the McKinley parking lot and towards downtown.

Uh oh, she thought, That doesn't look good.

xxx

"I think they said room 316," said Mr. Schuester as he and Buffy bounded up the steps of the Lima State Hospital, "Did you know the girl?"

Buffy shook her head. She'd only just heard about a half hour ago that a classmate of hers had been beaten to a bloody pulp in the school's sub-basement. The thought of someone beating up a teenage girl just underneath the feet of all of her frends sent a shiver down Buffy's back.

"I mean, we've said hi and stuff. Laura's nice enough as far as I know. Nobody saw who attacked her?" asked Buffy as she and her watcher rushed through the hallways, weaving passed nurses and surgeons.

"I was kind of hoping that Laura did," he replied, as they slipped into Room 316 to find Laura Risco looking out the window from where she lay on her hospital bed, a thick bandage around her head, one of her eyes swollen shut and her lip split.

Buffy winced at the sight of the poor girl and tried to muster a smile.

"Hey, Laura," greeted Buffy, with Will a few feet behind her.

"Hi," Laura said hoarsely.

"I hope we're not intruding," said Mr. SChuester.

"That's okay," said Laura, "I don't want to be alone."

"We're working on making sure that this doesn't happen again," he said.

Laura nodded stiffly as Buffy sunk down into a hard fabric chair beside the hospital bed.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Buffy asked quietly.

"I was in the basement," croaked Laura, "I went down for a smoke. And there was... someone there."

"Someone you knew?"

Laura shook her head. "I've never seen anything like it."

Buffy and Mr. SChuester shared a frantic glance. They could tell that this was there kind of case.

"It?" asked Buffy.

"Can you describe it?" asked Mr. Schuester.

Laura shook her head profusely, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Th-That's okay. Don't worry about it," said Buffy.

"You just rest," said Mr. Schue.

"But if you remember anything... You can tell us. Even if it may seem weird."

Laura smiled tightly as Buffy left with her watcher. "Lucky 19," Laura mumbled as Buffy was almost out the door.

"Pardon?" asked Mr. Schuester.

"It's was he said, right before..." said Laura, "He said Lucky 19. That's weird, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Feel better..." said Buffy, before she backed out with Mr. Schuester.

xxx

Quinn Fabray's glowing blonde hair bounced jovially against her shoulders as she walked through McKinley High with her canvas bag slung around her shoulder, but her mouth was pursed in a tight-lipped frown. She wasn't in the mood for anyone's nonsense today. No slushies, no post-its, no spiders, and she'd punch the next person who called her a milf. The previous night she'd gone home and looked up 'pressed lemon' on Urban Dictionary to stifle her curiosity. If she was going to be insulted, she'd at least like to know what the insult means.

1. Pressed Lemon

A lemon that is pressed

or

More commonly a 'repressed lesbian'

Quinn's mouth was wide in shock. What in God's name would cause a classmate to think that Quinn Fabray, devout Christian and recipient of many male crushes, was a closeted lesbian?

"Santana!" she called her room-mate, who trudged in, bleary eyed, holding a pigs' blood martini, the drink she liked to call a Bloody Lopez.

"What?" Santana grumbled, the TV blaring in the background of the living room she just came from.

"Do I look like a repressed lesbian to you?" asked Quinn, the collar of her ruffled beige blouse itching at her shoulders.

Santana eyes seemed to widen like she'd just woken up, and a hint of a smile crept onto her face.

"What is a repressed lesbian supposed to look like?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Someone at school called me a pressed lemon, and I'd like to know exactly what I can change about myself to avoid people thinking that."

Santana clutched her head, bewildered and amused. "LQ, you know I love you just the way you are, but maybe this rumor isn't exactly the furthest thing from the truth."

Quinn raised her eyebrows and glared, clearly offended. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I just mean... You've never really been interested in guys the way other chicks are, especially Finn. I'm not trying to put a label on you, but being a lesbian isn't the worst thing that could happen."

Quinn's face softened. "No, I know. I just... don't want people getting the wrong idea. Just because I'm not boy-obsessed doesn't mean I'm gay."

Santana nodded. "Okay, well, I gotta get back to One Tree Hill. If looking straight is so important to you, try wearing less plaid and stop obsessing over Berry."

Quinn got up off of her seat in Santana's kitchen and waddled into the living room after her. "Now what is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sorry," sighed Santana, "You don't even own any plaid. My mistake."

"You know what I mean!" Quinn pulled the plug out of the TV and gave Santana the evil eye.

"Hey!" cried Santana, "What is wrong with you? Why are you getting so worked up over nothing?"

"It's not nothing. How am I obsessed with Rachel? I hate Rachel!"

"Hating someone still involves at least a little bit of obsession. It means you think about her."

"Sure, I think about how annoying she is!"

"Whatever. You're like a little schoolboy pulling on some poor girl's pigtails."

Quinn shook her head and broke into a smile, bemused. "Or like you pulling on Brittany's?"

"I've never pulled Brittany's hair," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Not unless she asked you to," smirked Quinn.

Santana glared at her friend, her frustration growing. "One difference, Fabray. You and Berry can be together if you want to, and have annoying, high maintenance, adopted babies. Me and Brittany? It'll never happen without losing my humanity."

Quinn became quiet as Santana sat back in her couch.

The truth was, she'd pondered time and time again about how having Brittany would perhaps be better than having her humanity, but she was much too afraid of hurting Brittany.

"No, two differences, actually," said Quinn, finally, "You want to be with Brittany. I, on the other hand, want nothing to do with Ru Paul."

And there ended the pressed lemon conversation. Now Quinn had an itch to prove she was stick straight and had no concern for Rachel Man-Hands Berry, whatsoever.

xxx

Quinn strolled into the choir room for glee club rehearsal in her sturdy vintage kitten heels.

"...and now I just keep having nightmares about all the mothers of the little baby chicks coming after me for revenge," sighed Rachel as the others sat around her listening intently.

Ugh, of course Rachel was telling some dumb story, the centre of attention. As usual. Isn't she annoying? Quinn thought to herself.

"This is such bullshit!" shouted Puck, clenching his fists.

"What's going on?" asked Quinn, looking at the angered boy.

"That curly-headed, Vocal Adrenaline nancy - no offense, Kurt - egged Rachel along with all of douchey show choir pals," Puck said bitterly, furious that 'the enemy' got one up on their team mate.

Quinn pusred her lips. "Jesse ... egged you?" asked Quinn.

Rachel nodded, biting her lip in an attempt not to cry while Buffy patted her on the shoulder. Quinn chewed the inside of her cheek and furrowed her brow. She knew that dolled up, smooth talking, show choir stud was nothing but trouble, and now here they were, consoling Rachel after being egged by someone she was supposed to trust. She had an urge to punch Jesse in his chiseled face, until she reminded herself that she didn't care about Rachel Berry. Whatsoever.

"Why would he do that?" asked Quinn, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

"The jerk was probably just trying to get in on all the New Directions info, until he realized there wasn't any and made breakfast on Rachel's head," said Mercedes.

"That jerk," Kurt shook his head, "That sexy jerk."

"I say we do less talking and more punching," said Finn, bounding from his seat.

Quinn almost nodded in agreement, but stayed silent and took a seat. Far away from Rachel Berry.

"What's going on?" asked Mr. Schuester, walking into the choir room.

"We're gonna go all Braveheart on Vocal Adrenaline," said Finn.

"You guys, violence is never the answer," said Mr. Schuester, raising his hands.

"It is when the question is what's the best way to mess up that Jesse kid's face," said Puck.

"Mr. Schue, Rachel's one of us. We're the only ones who get to humiliate her," said Kurt.

"You guys, stop! Sit down!" Mr. Schuester raised his voice.

"Guys... I know what happened to Rachel was awful, but maybe Mr. Schuester is right. We should concentrate on other things," said Buffy.

"How can you say that?" cried Quinn, who was then under the stare of several sets of eyes, "I mean, I couldn't care less what happens to Streisand, personally, but you're her friend. Her best friend, if you will, a-and... you should do something."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, and Jesse will get what's coming to him sooner or later, but for right now... well, there's something brewing in McKinley."

Everyone who knew vaguely what kind of stuff happened to brew in McKinley - the kind of stuff Buffy Summers dealt with on a regular basis - glanced at each other and nodded stiffly. Those who didn't - Puck, Mike and Piper - just glanced at each other.

"Buffy's right," sighed Mr. Schuester, "There are more important things right now. And making someone else suffer doesn't make your pain go away."

"We can't just let Vocal Adrenaline get away with turning Rachel into scrambled eggs!" yelled Finn.

Mr. Schuester sighed and ran his fingers through his tight brown curls.

"Let it go, Finn," sighed Rachel, frowning at the floor.

xxx

"What exactly is brewing?" asked Rachel, "Is it about the spiders?"

The girls sat at the top of the steps, overlooking the courtyard.

"Not really. It's about Laura," Buffy replied.

"You visited her yesterday," said Rachel quietly, her throat tickling.

Buffy nodded as Rachel gulped from her water bottle. "She has a few broken bones. Internal bleeding. The doctor said she got off easy."

"Easy? Does he understand the word?" asked Rachel. The water didn't make her throat any less dry.

"He said there was a victim before Laura. A little boy. He's in a coma, since two weeks ago. Whoever's doing this, I have to stop them."

"You will," Rachel croaked.

"Are you okay? You sound kind of hoarse."

Rachel nodded and took another gulp of water. She tried to speak again, but only a quiet shriek came out. She tried saying several things, but her voice was stuck.

"Are you okay?" Buffy said, starting to panic a little, "You lost your voice."

Rachel knitted her eyebrows together looking terrified. Buffy imagined losing your voice would be horrible for someone who loved the sound of their own so much, but Rachel's voice - especially when it was singing - was pretty enjoyable for anyone else, too. Rachel's voice was her life. Buffy didn't know how to react to the girl clutching at her throat.

"Okay, Rachel, calm down! Uh... I'll take you home. Okay? And then your dads can bring you home. I'm sure it's just... laryngitis. You'll bounce back! Don't worry!"

Buffy tried hard to be reassuring, and gripped Rachel's arm, pulling her up and leading her out of the courtyard. The girls weaved through the cars in the parking lot to get to Buffy's mother's, when suddenly the girls were pulled into a big blue pick up truck. Buffy and Rachel whipped around in the backseat of the car to find Puck dragging them in, and Finn waiting in the front seat, both boys looking scared.

"What's going o-" Buffy started before she looked at Finn in the driver's seat and noticed he was naked.

"Oh God, Finn!" she shrieked, and Rachel smacked her hands over her eyes, "What were you two doing?"

"It's not what it looks like!" said Finn.

"It kind of looks like you're butt naked!" said Buffy.

"Well, okay, you're right about that... My clothes just... They kind of disappeared," said Finn, panicked.

"Finn, clothes don't just... disappear," said Buffy.

"Mine did!" cried Finn, "And Puck wouldn't even give me his hoodie because... Show her, man."

Buffy peered at Noah Puckerman in the passenger seat with his hood wrapped tightly over his melon head.

"Show me what?" asked Buffy, as Rachel peeped through her fingers.

"No way, man. This isn't how God intended people to see me," said Puck.

Finn rolled his eyes and pulled the hood off of Puck's head. The girls gasped.

"Your mohawk..." breathed Buffy, "It's gone."

Puck sighed. "This is a disaster. My mohawk is who I am."

"You've got to help us. We were at the Carmel parking lot trying to slash Jesse's tires, but then-" said Finn.

"You're clothes and... hair, disappeared?"

"Basically."

"What am I supposed to do about that?" asked Buffy.

Finn thought about it. "I... don't know. I just know that you deal with weird stuff like this."

"I can only handle so much weird stuff at a time. Just go home and get some clothes. And Puck... get a nose ring or something."

"A nose ring?"

"It's the equivalent in cool when it comes to bad boys."

Puck nodded. "Thanks, Bucky."

"Buffy!" the girl grumbled, "And why is everyone losing stuff? Your mohawk. Finn's clothes. Rachel's voice."

"Rachel lost her voice?" asked Finn, looking at the brunette with concern.

"Look, Finn, drive home and get some clothes, and then bring Rachel to her dads. She needs to go see her doctor."

Finn nodded as Buffy slipped out of the pick up truck. Something super wiggy was going down, and she needed to go to the person who would most likely know what.


	19. The Nightmare

"This can't be happening," Tina mumbled over newspapers spread out of the library table.

She loved spending all her time with her boyfriend Mike, but she needed to escape to the library every now and again to help Buffy and the others in the fight for the greater good. It was beginning to be what she lived for. She knew she would have had a lead on the strange situations that went on lately earlier if she had more time for research. Damn you, social life, she thought to herself.

"What's the word?" asked Buffy as she strode in and hastily took a seat opposite her friend.

"Oh, just, um, trying to do some research," said Tina, absentmindedly gripping a pencil.

"Did you find anything?" asked Buffy.

"I don't know."

Buffy raised an eyebrow impatiently. "You don't know if you didn't find anything?"

"I'm having a problem," sighed Tina.

"What is it?"

Tina bit her bottom lip. "I can't read."

"What do you mean? You can read, like, three languages."

"Five, actually, on a normal day," Tina smiled, "But the words in the paper don't make any sense. It's all gibbirish."

Buffy took a paper from her frustrated friend and looked at the picture. "That's him," she mumbled.

"Who?"

"The kid I saw under the bleachers yesterday. 'Twelve year old Billy Palmer was found beaten and unconscious after his Kiddie League game yesterday. Doctors describe is condition as critical'. When was the published?" Buffy scanned the paper, "Last week... It says he's in a coma in the ICU. This is the boy from the hospital!"

"You've seen him around school?" asked Tina.

"Yeah, right before Laura got beaten. I thought it was kind of weird seeing a kid around, but I guess I forgot about it."

"How is that possible? He's been in a coma for a week."

"What am I, Knowledge Girl? Explanations are your terrain."

Tina bit her lip. "Well, there's astral projection. When you sleep you have another body which can travel through time and space."

"Billy's in a coma. That's like sleep, right?"

"For all intents and purposes. But people don't always wake up from comas."

"Could I be seeing Billy's asteroid body?"

"Astral. And, I don't know. I don't have a lot of information to work with. Spiders, and someone beating people..."

"Seems like everyone has really bad luck. Puck lost his mohawk, and Finn lost his clothes-"

"Whoa, what does Puck look like without a mohawk?"

"It's kind of like seeing a person without eyebrows."

"And Finn... without clothes?"

"Nothing too swoon worthy. Well, except to Rachel maybe."

"Rachel's been having a rough time, too, hasn't she?"

Buffy nodded. "First her mom, and then Jesse, and now her voice."

"What about her voice?"

"It's gone."

Tina gasped. "That's the most bizarre thing I've heard all day."

"There you are!"

Buffy whipped around, wide eyed, to see her father standing in the library and striding towards the girls, looking smart in a tan blazer that matched the sun kissed tan of his skin.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," he said, "Why aren't you in class?"

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Buffy stood up, taken aback, "You're not supposed to pick me up until after school. Is something wrong? Is it mom?"

"No, no, it's not your mother. She's fine. But, could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"

"Uh, yeah, okay. Tina, I'll be back."

Tina nodded as she watched Buffy and her father slip out of the library. She looked back at the newspapers to give them a try, but the words were just as scrambled as before. What is going on?

xxx

"I came early because there's something I needed to tell you," said Hank Summers, as he walked his daughter through the cold wet McKinley courtyard.

All that ran through Buffy's head was, Please don't marry your secretary.

"It's about your mother and me. Why we split up."

"Oh. Well, you always told me it was-"

"I know we always told you it was because we'd just grown too far apart."

"Yeah, isn't that true?"

Buffy's heart beat against her chest. She knew that wasn't all to it. Her father had cheated. But did he have to say it? Saying it made it so much more real.

"Come on, sweetie, let's sit down," he said, gesturing to a damp picnic table, "You're old enough now to know the truth."

Buffy stared silently and waited for him to go on as they took a seat. "There's someone else..." she said quietly.

"No, it's not that," sighed Hank.

"Then what was it?"

"It was you."

Buffy gaped at her father, surprised. "Me?"

"Having you. Raising you. Seeing you every day. I mean, do you have any idea what that's like?"

Buffy frowned in confusion. "What?"

Hank chuckled. "Gosh, you don't even see what's right in front of your face, do you? Well, no big surprise there, all you ever think about is yourself. You get in trouble. You embarrass us with all the crazy stunts you pull. Do I have to go on?"

"No. Please don't." Buffy's eyes filled with tears. This wasn't happening. This is just a nightmare.

"You're sullen, and rude, and you're not nearly as bright as I thought you were going to be. Buffy, let's be honest, could you stand to live in the same house as a daughter like that?"

Buffy blinked tears out of her eyes. "Why are you saying all these things?"

"Because they're true," frowned Hank, "I think that's the least we owe one another. And I don't think it's very mature getting all blubbery when I'm just trying to be honest. Speaking of which, I don't really get anything out of these weekends with you, so, what do you say we just don't do them anymore?"

Tears rolled down Buffy's shocked face as Hank patted her knee and got up from the table.

"I sure thought you'd turn out differently," he said.

xxx

Tina wasn't easily frustrated, but being unable to read was easily one of the worst things that could have happened to her. She stormed out of the library with her black backpack over her shoulder, when she bumped into Mike, literally.

"Sorry!" he cried, "I'm so clumsy today." Her boyfriend looked just as frustrated as she did, running his hands through his hair.

"Are you okay?" she asked, "You seem on edge."

"I'm fine, I just... Mr. Schuester tried to go over some choreogrpahy with me so I could help teach the rest of glee club, but I couldn't keep up. And he was just two-stepping! I kept falling over. It's like I have legs made of jelly. It's such a nightmare."

Tina's eyes widened. "It is a nightmare! It's your nightmare!"

"Yeah, except for the part with me waking up going, 'It's all a dream'."

Tina bit her lip. "I have to go. I have to find Buffy. I-I... I have to tell her the homework!" Tina jumped and kissed her boyfriend's cheek before running away in her black knee high Converse.

"Mr. Schuester!" she called as she rounded the corner and faced the curly-haired teacher, who looked anxious, "I figured it out! Nightmares!"

"Huh?" he asked, looking tired.

"People's nightmares... L-Like Laura getting beaten."

"That wasn't a nightmare, Tina. That happened."

"Yeah, it happened, like Wendell with the spiders. Quinn told me he had a recurring dream about that."

"I-I dreamt that me and my ex-wife got remarried a-and she sucked the soul out through my heart."

"Yeesh."

"Yeesh is right. She's been calling constantly these past few days, and I cannot handle that. Not only does she put the Terri in terrible relationship, but she puts the Terri in terrifying stalker. Of course. Our dreams are coming true."

"Dreams? That would be a musical comedy version of this. Nightmares!"

"Why is this happening?"

"Billy," muttered Tina.

"Who's Billy?"

"He's the boy in the local hospital. The one in the coma. Somehow, I think he's crossed over from the nightmare world he's trapped in."

"And he brought the nightmare world with him. How could he do that?"

"I'm sure things like that are easy when you live on a Hellmouth."

"We have to stop it, and soon. Or else everyone in Sunnydale will be facing their own worst nightmares."

xxx

Somehow, the air in Lima felt colder now that Buffy was alone, and she swore a tear on her cheek would soon freeze and become a small drop of ice. She hugged herself as she spotted the boy - Billy Palmer - walking along the edge of the school building and slip into a doorway that led into the gymnasium.

Buffy bristled and stood up. Something weird was going on, and she wasn't about to sit here and cry when she could be solving a case and saving some lives. It was a good distraction, and productive, too.

But as she followed the boy into the gym, she couldn't shake the feeling of being abandoned and unwanted. She imagined that this was how Rachel felt when her mother rejected her, only this situation was different. Buffy had just been rejected by a man who had raised her, more or less. He was supposed to love her. Wasn't he?

She followed Billy in and found him sitting idly on the bottom step of the bleachers.

"Billy?"

The boy didn't reply, but clasped his hands together, looking sullen.

"Are you Billy Palmer?" she asked.

"I'm Billy," he sighed.

"Why are you here?" she said, taking a seat by the quiet kid, "Did something bad happen to you after the game?"

"Something bad?" Billy ran his hands through his hair, "I don't remember."

"Do you remember playing baseball?"

"Uh huh. Yeah. I play second base."

"Are you Lucky 19?"

Billy seemed to shudder at this phrase. "That's what he calls me."

"Who?"

"The ugly man. He wants to kill me. And he hurt that girl."

"Why does he want to kill you, Billy?"

"He's..." Billy shook his head, scared.

"Billy, it's okay, just tell me-"

"He's here!"

Buffy whipped her head around to see a giant, bald man with a gnarled face leering at them. He swung his clubbed hand at the back of Buffy's head, knocking her to the ground with a groan. Buffy got back up swiftly as Billy jumped out of the way. Not today, pal, she thought. She kicked him hard to his twisted, ugly face, and again to his chest, knocking him back with a growly yelp. He hit her side with his club-for-a-hand and knocked her against the bleachers as Billy ran away. Buffy scrambled to get up, avoiding the hard blow of the ugly man's club hand. With a limp, she thundered back outside from the emergency exit.

A spare hockey stick from practice earlier lie on the ground, so she picked it up and shoved it through the door's handles. Billy was behind her, breathing heavily as the man pounded against the door and yelled.

"Billy," she cried.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it."

"Who is he?"

"He's the ugly man."

"He's too strong. I can't fight him. We have to find my friends. They can help us."

"We have to hide," said Billy.

"No, he'll find us!"

"Yes, but that's how it has to happen. We hide, and he comes."

xxx

Tina bounded through the busy school hallways, looking for Buffy. Given the kind of things that the slayer dreams about, it's pretty important that Buffy knows what's going on. Her eyes swiveled around the hall for a head of blonde hair, when she heard someone softly calling her name. She opened the door to the sub-basement, where the voice seemed to come from, but all she could see down the flight of stairs was darkness.

"Hello?" she called, "Buffy?"

She knew she was smart enough to know not to do certain things, but she found herself making her way down the dark steps, into the seemingly empty sub-basement. It was dim and dank, and not at all extraordinary. She told herself she wasn't afraid as she walked through the basement, but she screamed when a hand grabbed her from behind and pulled her away.

xxx

Buffy burst through a door with Billy by her side, but she only seemed back where they started - in front of the door to the gymnasium, in the courtyard.

"I was sure this lead to the library..." said Buffy.

Billy stared beyond a fence where the McKinley baseball team practiced.

"What? They're just playing. What is it? What's bothering you?"

"Baseball. When you lose, it's bad," said Billy.

"Did you lose your game last week?"

"It was my fault."

"Why was it your fault?"

"I missed a ball and I should have caught it."

"You missed one ball and the whole game was your fault? What, you were the only one playing? There wasn't eight other people on your team?"

"He said it was my fault."

"Who said?"

Billy looked down, unwilling to answer.

"Billy, did he hurt you after the game?"

"Can we go another way to find your friends?"

"Sure. We can go around the cafeteria."

Or not. Buffy stopped in her tracks to see the ugly man walking her way with the disfigured club attached to his arm, swaying by his side as he stomped towards them.

"Bad idea," breathed Buffy, and tugged Billy's shoulder, dragging him to a mound of shrubs at the side of the courtyard.

As the two pushed through the bushes, they found themselves in a whole new territory. Buffy had to blink in the darkness and let her eyes adjust before she recognized the sparse trees, the short grass and the rain-weathered gravestones. She and Billy were in the Lima Cemetery.

Buffy furrowed her brow. "What just happened?" she asked in the chilly night breeze.

"Is this where your friends are?" asked Billy.

"No. It's not."

xxx

"Man, I thought you weren't gonna show!" said the man with the tight, white collar, sweating like a pig as he dragged Tina through a door by her shirt.

Tina knitted her eyebrows together as this stranger dragged into a large space that looked like the backstage of an auditorium, only much bigger and bustling than the one in McKinley. Racks of expensive costumes were strewn around the stage, and people bustled around wearing headsets and stage makeup. Tina looked down at her own attire, shocked to find herself in a gold, gaudy dress. She heard a voice ring through the room from a megaphone, 'Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present the world's greatest singers'.

"I hope you're warmed up," said the man, ruffling her dress at the bottom, "It's an ugly crowd tonight. All of the reviewers showed up."

Tina's stomach clenched. Singing on stage wasn't so bad when she had eleven other people to blend in with. She peeped through an opening in the red velvet curtains to look at the monstrous audience, when she heard her name being called. She stumbled into the limelight with glaring faces waiting in anticipation. Suddenly, silence. It was her turn to sing. But she didn't even know the words. She didn't know the song. She tried to open her mouth to sing, but all that came out was a shrill squeak.

xxx

Buffy whipped her head around in the eerie night. How had she gotten here? she wondered, And why was it suddenly night?

"I don't see the ugly man," she said, scoping the graveyard, "I also don't know where the sun and the rest of the world went."

"Look at this," said Billy, staring in an empty grave, perfectly rectangular, "I guess they're gonna bury somebody. I wonder who died."

"Nobody died, kid," someone scoffed.

Buffy whipped her head around and furrowed her brow in confusion. It was a tall, lanky woman, who seemed strangely familiar, but Buffy couldn't place her anywhere particular. She had a sneering face and cropped blonde hair, and looked snug in a red tracksuit.

"There's no fun in burying someone if they're already dead," sneered the woman with a playful smile, her eyes sunken and red, "Wouldn't you agree, Britney?"

Buffy noted that she must be a vampire.

"So, this is the slayer," she smiled, "Simply awful to meet you, Paris. You're prettier than the last one. In fact, you remind me of a young Sue Sylvester, only with slightly worse posture and terrible taste in clothes. Is that skirt painted on or are you just that fond of spandex?"

Buffy racked her brain. Sue Sylvester? It sounded so familiar... "The Master," Buffy mumbled.

"That's me," grinned Sue, "I'm glad that people have finally recognized the great, masterful hand with which I rule this hippie-ridden town."

Buffy shook her head, "This isn't real. You can't be free."

Sue laughed. "Brainless as a Barbie doll, aren't you, Blondie? Haven't you figure out what's going on? You wet the bed at night dreaming about me breaking loose. Now I'm free, because you fear it. This place is crumbling around us. Being a literal hell hole, Lima probably doesn't even notice, but they will. You just wait. You have Billy the kid to thank for that."

Buffy gulped. "This is a dream."

Sue scoffed. "A dream is me getting an oil massage from our great former president Richard Nixon. This is real life."

Sue reached out and grabbed Buffy's neck in a crushing grip, lifting the short girl a few feet off the ground.

"You sure had the best of both worlds for a while there, didn't you, Hannah Montana? Well, that's all about to come to an end."

Sue threw Buffy into the open grave, and the groaned as her back hit the wooden coffin. The coffin door closed as she hit it, and she found herself clawing against the hard coffin door, screaming for help. She heard the soft thud of dirt hitting the coffin as the Master, Sue Sylvester, chuckled to herself.

xxx

"Did you find Buffy?"

Tina backed out of the basement door, the same gold dress still on her tightly. She shook from the aftershock of blaring stage fright to face Mr. Schuester, looking frantic. It was suddenly night, and the hallways were abandoned.

"I had to sing... very bad..." she mumbled.

"Come on, let's find the others," said Mr. Schuester, clutching her arm and helping her walk off, her knees still knocking together.

They bounded outside into the courtyard, where it was daytime again. The sun blaring down on the scene didn't make it much more comforting. People ran around screaming and they heard police sirens howling in the distance.

"If we don't stop it soon, the world will be full of the realm of nightmares," Tina said, terrified.

"What do we do?" asked Mr. Schuester.

"We have to wake Billy."

"But we can't leave without Buffy."

"Agreed, but who knows where she might have gone."

Mr. Schuester scanned the courtyard, when he noticed something vastly different. "When did they put a cemetery across the street?" he asked.

Without a word, the watcher and the bookworm went to check out the scene, when suddenly they were succumbed into darkness. Their bravery went down with the sun as they shook and shuddered in the graveyard, keeping four watchful eyes out for the slayer.

"Who's nightmare is this?" asked Tina, but Will didn't have to answer.

He turned and saw a fresh gravestone in a new spot of the cemetery. The low marble stone read, 'Buffy Summers'.

"It's mine," he muttered, his heart sinking. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be real.

He kneeled down and stared at the gravestone. "I failed," he said to himself, "I should have been better. Taken more time to train you..."

He laid his hand down on the earth, when suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed his, dirt under the French tipped nails. Tina jumped back and screamed as a body crawled out of the grave. Buffy's body.

"Buffy?" called Will.

Buffy looked up, causing Will and Tina to gasp. Fangs protruded from her mouth, her eyes were a dark red and her forehead was crumpled into monstrous wrinkles, giving her the appearance of the demon that possessed her.

"Buffy, your face," cried Tina.

Buffy raised her hands to her face and kept them there, feeling the pointed teeth and the bumpy brow. "Oh, God," she said under her breath, "Don't look at me!"

Mr. Schuester walked closer and laid a hand on his slayer's shoulder. "You never told me you dreamt of becoming a vampire," he said.

"This isn't a dream," said Buffy.

"No, it's not," said Will, "But there's a chance we can make it go away. If we can wake Billy up, the nightmares will stop, but we have to do it now. I need you to hold together long enough to help us. Can you do that?"

Buffy looked up at her watcher with her red eyes. "Yeah," she nodded, "I think I can."

"Thank you."

"But we better hurry. I'm getting hungry."

xxx

The Lima Hospital wasn't any less disturbing than the rest of town had proven to be. Carts of medical equipment was knocked over and Buffy, Tina and Mr. Schuester had to climb over things to get through the halls where screaming nurses knocked into them, running away from frightening doctors with disfigured sets of hands. With Buffy leading the trio, they rushed into Billy's room, where the space was eerily quiet compared to the nightmare hell they'd just come out of.

"What now?" asked Tina.

Mr. Schuester shook the comatose boys shoulders, shouting his name to no avail.

"That won't work."

Will blinked as a second little Billy peeked out from the hospital curtains in a baseball shirt, looking grave.

"Billy... Billy, you have to wake up," said Will.

"No. I told her. I have to hide."

"Why? From what?"

Buffy's stomach sank as a figure clomped down the hall towards Billy's room with a large club for a hand. "From him," she answered, her hands shaking.

"What do we do?" asked Tina, peeking around the corner of the entrance and wincing at the ugly man approaching in the distance.

"I think I know," said Buffy, whipping off her jacket and throwing it to the floor.

Buffy clumped down the hall at the same pace as the ugly man, with the same smug snarl on her face. "Glad you showed up," she said, "You see, I'm having a really bad day."

"Lucky 19," grunted the ugly man.

"Scary. I'll tell you something, though. There are a lot more scarier things than you, and I'm one of them."

Baring her new set of impressive fangs, Buffy pounced the ugly man with a tight, piercing grip on his torso and knocked him to the ground with a loud thud. The ugly man kicked Buffy off of him, but she soon bounced back up, punching him hard in his squishy abdomen and avoiding the fatal club hand. With a jump and kick, the ugly man was weak and propped against a wall in the hospital corridor. He didn't seem to move, but Buffy stood back cautiously, only then realizing that her cohorts, and Billy, were right behind her.

"Is he dead?" asked Billy.

"Come here Billy."

"Bu-... I don't-"

"You have to do the rest."

Billy walked forward, gripping Buffy's hand for support.

"No more hiding," Buffy murmured as Billy reached forward and grabbed onto the ugly man's face, tearing it off like a grotesque mask to reveal to light underneath...

Buffy blinked. The hospital was clean, kept, and the ugly man was gone. She heard the murmur of doctors and nurses outside the door as they rushed past. She brought her hand to her face and sighed with relief. Instead of a bumpy brow and porcelain fangs, all she felt was a smile.

Tina looked down at herself. She was out of a gaudy gold dress and back into her old clothes; black fishnet, lace and silk. She breathed out, endlessly relieved and euphoric.

"He's waking up," sighed Will as he watched Billy's eyelashes flutter open.

"I had the strangest dream," Billy murmured as Buffy walked to the end of his bed, "And you were in it... and you... Who are you people?"

The trio didn't reply, but grinned widely at the boy.

"Let's get a doctor," said Mr. Schuester, making his way to the door, but before he could leave he was met with a heavy set man in a too-tight blue t-shirt; a whistle hung around his neck.

"Oh. Billy's got company," he said, "I'm his Kiddie League coach. I come by here every day just hoping against hope that he's gonna wake up. He's my Lucky 19. So, how is he?"

Buffy's smile fell. It all made sense now. Lucky 19, and the disfigured club for a hand that the ugly man had. Billy had said that losing the game had been all his fault.

Buffy grimaced. "He's awake."

If Buffy was mistaken, the coach looked more crestfallen than relieved, and she supposed that that's when she knew for certain.

"You blamed him for losing the game," said Buffy, as the coach stepped forward with a look of disbelief stuck on his face, "So you caught up with him afterwards, didn't you?"

The coach surprised Buffy by letting out a hearty laugh. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice wavering.

"You said it was my fault that we lost," croaked Billy.

The coach lurched for the door, but Buffy caught the back of his hoodie and Will blocked him from the front.

"It wasn't my fault," said Billy, "There's eight other players on the team. You know that."

Buffy smirked at the little boy. "Nice going," she said, and he grinned back.

xxx

"I just can't believe a Kiddie League coach would do something like that," said Buffy.

"Obviously you've never played Kiddie League. It's a very competitive atmosphere, especially for the adults. One could argue that it's a harmful environment for a child, but I have to say, children who are involved in competitive sports later on come out on top if they look into a corporate career," replied Rachel.

The girls sat on the fluffy white carpet of Rachel's bedroom floor with magazines splayed out in front of them; Rachel reading up on the latest Hollywood interviews and Buffy scanning the 'Who Wore It Best' section.

"I didn't know you were into sports," said Buffy, surprised that Sofia Vergera wore a print tee better than Miranda Cosgrove.

"Oh, I'm not athletic, per say, but my dads enrolled me in any and all activities when I was younger. They wanted to give me a competitive edge in whatever area of expertise I would later be interested in."

"I guess that worked, huh?"

"Fantastically," smiled Rachel, "I completely plan to move to New York one day to attend Julliard, and have a role as Evita on Broadway by age twenty five. I've been strenuously working my vocals since I was a year old. It's why I hated the Little Mermaid so much."

"Huh?"

"Well, Ariel was an imbecile. My voice comes before any man, or yearning for freedom and independence. My voice is who I am. Hence my nightmare state of being voiceless. That was worse than being blind."

"That, and what happened with you and Jesse."

Rachel pursed her lips and dropped her magazine, losing her place on an interview with Kate Winslet. "Pardon?" she asked, quietly.

"Well... When Jesse egged you. That was one of your nightmares, right?"

Rachel looked down at the carpet she and her best friend was sitting on, reluctant to reply. She, too, had thought that was the case. That Jesse's cruel betrayal was simply a figment of the warped nightmare world that had formed around them last week, despite the fact that being egged by her boyfriend was never something she'd feared. She called Jesse the morning after, when she heard the commotion was over, but her heart sank when she learned that it wasn't a work of the paranormal that made Jesse egg her. Jesse egged her, because Jesse wanted to egg her.

She bit down her lip after explaining to Buffy, and watched as the girl attempted to gather composure to her shocked face.

"Rachel, I'm so... I'm sorry," she said quietly, feeling guilty that her words were so useless.

"It's not your fault, Buffy. Obviously, Jesse had to decide where his allegiance was, and it was with Vocal Adrenaline."

"Oh, Rachel..." said Buffy.

She gave up on trying to console her with words, and crouched toward her friend, hugging her closely so that Rachel could smell the soapy scent in her hair. They both felt like warm teddy bears embracing in their fuzzy pajamas. The girls smiled at each other as they broke apart.

"If you want, I can kick his ass," offered Buffy.

Rachel smiled, grateful. "I appreciate the thought, Buffy, but I don't want a homicide on our hands. Jesse is far weaker, and you could easily pummel him."

"He is weak, isn't he? He's a weak little toad. No, he's a boil on a toad. Men are pigs."

"That's not fair," smirked Rachel, "There are some good men out there. Somewhere."

"Somewhere far, far away..." smiled Buffy, "Maybe. But right now, you should vent about that toad Jesse. Venting is healthy, Rach."

Rachel shrugged. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Well, then allow me. Jesse was a creep, from day one, you were just too blinded by his chiseled features to see it!"

"That's probably true."

"And he's just so... dumb! And oblivious! You're better off without him."

"I wonder if he's saying the same thing about me."

"What? Rachel, no one could ever say that about you!"

xxx

"Shelby, she's just so dumb. And oblivious. We're better off without her."

"I hear you," sighed Shelby, taking a seat on her couch with her fingers pressed against each other, deep in thought.

Beside her in her small apartment, Jesse stroked her back, and she felt his fingers through her wool sweater.

"Neither of us have any obligation to feel guilty. The girl goes back to living the simple life, and we find the Corcoran legacy."

Shelby had that eternal frown on her face as she stared at the glass coffee table in front of her. "And soon. Regionals are coming up and I want to find someone by the end of the year."

"If I may-"

"A child, Jesse."

"Shelby, hear me out. I'm not like everyone else, am I? You knew I was different from the moment you laid your beautiful eyes on me, did you not?"

Shelby smirked. "You weren't another Carmel prep, that's for sure. But Jesse... I want someone I can teach from scratch. My legacy has to be a child of mine-"

"That's not an option any more, is it?"

Shelby frowned again, her eyebrows knitting together, and Jesse leaned forward, his gray eyes softening.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Shelby. But... You can't have children. And me? I'm here. I'm ready. I'm already skilled-"

"And you're not my child, Jesse. I want a child."

Jesse folded his arms and sulked. "I'm beginning to think this is less about your legacy and more about your biological clock."

Shelby teetered between smacking the boy, and laughing at him, so she just shook her head and smirked. He was being difficult, as usual, but that was something she could change. Lifting her legs onto the couch, she leaned into him and felt his warmth against her back, and she knew that smallest act of affection would melt Jesse's cold frown in an instant.

"Plan B," she heard him say as she rested her head on his shoulder, and she smiled mischievously. She had him in the palm of her hand.

"Go on," she said.

"There's another source of immense power in Lima, and I know who."

"Yes?"

"You've heard of the Fabrays, correct?"

Shelby sighed. "Of course. Long legacy of envious power, snubbed by a marriage to a religious Republican. It's a pity to even think about."

Jesse nodded. "Russell and Judith, the offenders, have two daughters, Francis and Lucy. Of course, the girls weren't taught any magic by their God fearing parents, but I can tell you now that the strong surge of power coming from a Miss Lucy Fabray would say otherwise."

"How do you know Lucy Fabray?" asked Shelby, turning in her seat to face Jesse, who was smiling smugly from the sheer brilliance of his revelation.

"She's a friend of Rachel's. A schoolmate, more accurately. She's goes by her middle name, Quinn. She's practicing, I can tell. Not only can I see that she's altered her appearance using magic to heighten those bland Fabray genes, there's that... pull."

"A friend of- Jesse, this girl is in high school. What am I supposed to do with her?"

Jesse held up a finger with a smile on his face. "And therein lays the sheer good luck. Lucy Quinn Fabray is..." he paused a moment for theatricality, "Pregnant."

Shelby stared a moment to let it sink in. "The only remaining magical Fabray is... pregnant?"

"With a baby she doesn't plan on keeping. Do you know what this means? If you secure the infant when Quinn gives birth... Well, honey, you'll have an heir."

Shelby smiled to herself. "I'll have a baby."


	20. The Prophecy

"You know how I feel about you. It's pretty obvious, isn't it? There's never been anyone else for me... except you. We're good friends, and I want to take the next step. Would you, um... date me?" asked Finn.

Buffy winced at her locker door. "Date me?"

Finn shook his head in frustration as their classmates passed them before classes started that morning. "I know. That's terrible. It's why you have to help me, Buffy! Jesse was so... good with words."

"Yeah, until he made scrambled eggs on Rachel's head, Finn. Trust me, you have the upper hand here," Buffy reassured, "But still-"

"I know, the date me thing, I just don't know how else to say-"

"No, not that's, it's just... Rachel really liked this guy. And literally days ago he humiliated her in front all of his friends... I'm just not sure if now is the time to pursue-"

Buffy finished her sentence abruptly as Finn pushed her out of the way.

"Finn!" she yelled, caught by surprise.

"Rachel's coming over!"

"So why did you shove me?"

"I don't know! I panicked!"

Buffy scowled as Rachel approached with a wide smile and a tote bag over her shoulder.

"Good morning," Rachel smiled.

"I have to go somewhere," exclaimed Buffy, who quickly fled the scene.

"Well, she seemed busy," said Rachel as Finn stared vapidly at her, "I hope she's taking up more extra curricular activities. You can never have too many, and it'll be a nice accessory on her college application."

"You're... smiley. Today."

Rachel grinned and nodded. "I woke up with the inexplicable drive instilled in me since infancy to go out and make something of myself. Now is no time for self pity. Regionals are just around the corner, the school year is coming to an end and there's so much left to do, Finn, especially for you and me as co-captains of New Directions. Mr. Schuester has already mapped out a Journey themed performance for us all, which I think is heavily appropriate, because what is life but a journey through-"

"Date me!"

Rachel blinked. "What?"

"Date me."

Rachel stared at the much taller boy, her mouth hung open, "Ummm... No."

"What? No, don't say that."

"As romantic as the gesture was, Finn, I think it's in my best interest to decline-"

"Wait! I-I didn't mean to sound like I was demanding you to date me or anything. I mean, I wouldn't demand you to do anything. I just... You're really great a-and, I love you and you're the one-"

"This is all so sudden, Finn," frowned Rachel.

"Is it, though?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"You love me? We're not there yet, Finn, not nearly. We have to go on a lunch date, then a double dinner date, then a dinner date alone where I'll allow you to kiss me-"

"I've already kissed you."

"Regardless! You're not allowed to say you love me. Not yet."

"How can I not say it when it's true? Look, Rachel, I know I'm doing this all wrong, and saying all the wrong things. I'm not good with words like Jesse or Quinn... I just know how I feel about you. And I know that you feel it, too. And yeah, you just had your heart broken, and you probably need time... But I'll be here when you're ready. I just want you to know that. I like you a lot, Rachel. Will you please just consider?"

Rachel blushed and bit down hard on her bottom lip. "I'll consider it. But right now... Right now, we have to concentrate on Regionals."

"Anything you want. I'll be waiting in the choir room so we can practice."

"Thank you," smirked Rachel, as Finn brushed past her and walked away, "Finn?"

The tall boy turned around and looked at her expectantly.

"You may not notice, but you kind of do have a way with words. Your own way..."

Finn blushed, grinning ear to ear. Any compliment from Rachel Berry was like one of her gold star stickers ironed to his letterman jacket. Bright, shiny and hard to take back. That, and it made him feel all that more special.

xxx

Rachel grinned and smoothed down her skirt as she entered the choir room in the morning, before glee club had started, to find Finn practicing a dance routine on his own. His efforts made her smile and she wonder if she could be with him, right now, just like that. Conditions were as good as they would ever be, weren't they? He was single, she was single, and they both liked each other. So what was stopping her from snatching him up? She supposed she still felt the pain and betrayal of both her birth mother and her ex, but she shouldn't let that keep her from experiencing happiness.

"Are you having trouble?" she asked as Finn stumbled over his own feet.

His head shot up and he blushed under her presence. It made her swoon all the more to see how much he cared about her.

"Yeah, I guess I am. With the dancing. As usual," he shrugged.

"Well, that's not an issue. I can have you dancing like a professional in no time," she smiled, setting her bag down on one of the plastic chairs, "Shall we take it from the top?"

"Sounds good to me," he blushed.

She stood by his side and brushed her hair back behind her ears, when it came loose again. She sighed and brushed her hair back once more to find that her hand was unsteady, as was the rest of her body, vibrating on the spot as the ground shook.

"What's going on?" she asked, frightened, as she clung to Finn's arm, the framed certificates around the room clanking against the walls.

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her under the piano. It was a snug spot with the two of them under there, but she felt slightly safer underneath, with Finn by her side, as they watched the plastic chairs topple over and the pictures on the walls fall off. They heard schoolmates in the halls screaming and ducking for cover and standing under the door frames, waiting for the earthquake to end.

xxx

"It doesn't look like your friend is home," said Mike, as he pulled up outside a tall house with no light behind the double glazed windows and no car in the driveway.

"I'll check," Tina said quietly, gripping the thick yellow pages of the pergamum codex in her purple nailed fingers.

She listened for the click as she opened the door of her boyfriend's Honda, and closed it behind her, balancing the book on her forearm. She'd rushed to Mike after school looking for a ride with the pretense that she was returning a book borrowed from a friend who lived nearby. She could feel Mike's brown eyes on her back as she walked down the stone steps through the front yard of the house and rang the doorbell, trying to keep her composure cheerful. She heard the ring of the doorbell sounding inside, but no one answered, and she couldn't see much except darkness when she peered through the diamond shaped window in the door. She bit down on her lip, wanting to run back to the warm safety of Mike's car and have him drive them to dim sum with his mother, but she gathered her nerves and told herself to keep trying. For Buffy.

She turned and gestured to Mike that she was going to try around the back. He squinted around at the neighborhood from inside the car with the engine still on - he didn't like the look of Lima Heights - but he watched as she sauntered around the side of the house.

Tina was surprised by the jungle-like appearance of the spacious backyard. The grass grew as high as her knees, entwined with dandelions, and the tree branches were gnarled and curled over the roof of the tool shed. Leaves drifted on top of the lagoon shaped pool. Tina wondered if the house really was empty. It looked abandoned from what she could tell, but she was proved just the opposite when she gripped the ledge of a window and peered inside. She looked into a kitchen - black, white and clean, for the most part. There was a yellow cardigan draped over a chair and a copy of People magazine laying open on the table. Sunflower seeds spilled out of their packet on the counter and an empty vodka bottle stood in the sink. There was an archway in the room, and beyond she could see nothing but a dark den. The only light coming from it was a flickering TV.

Bingo, thought Tina, and she trudged through the dewy grass to the back door and knocked hard on her knuckles. She heard the TV switch off, and began to get impatient. She knocked persistently through the silence inside, until she almost fell forward when the door fell open.

"What do you want?" snapped a girl a little older than her, leaning backwards in the darkness of her home.

Tina opened her mouth and realized she didn't know what to say. Under the dim light, the older girl's angry eyes weren't as visible, but Tina could feel them burning into her nonetheless. She had a slim, curvy figure and a head of long black hair. Tina gaped at her.

"What? Are you here to talk about God, because honey, God left me a long time ago," the girl said, tapping her foot with little patience.

"You-... You're Santana Lopez," said Tina, staring at the familiar face.

Santana squinted at her. "The Lopezes don't live here anymore. Get out of here."

"Wait!" said Tina before Santana could shut the door on her, "I'm a friend of Buffy's."

Santana pursed her lips and seemed to be considering the young woman. "And?"

"And..." Tina searched for words until she remembered the pergamum codex under her arm, "Did you give her this book?"

Santana glanced at the book. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."

"Buffy gave it to me to decipher. She didn't say where it was from... But there was an address in the back cover."

Santana bit her lip in surprise and snatched the book of prophecies, flicking through the pages to find her address scribbled in pencil. She let out a heavy sigh.

"Well, that was dumb of someone."

"You have to help me."

"Why should I?"

"Because one of the prophecies... I think it might... Buffy might get hurt."

Santana dropped her hip. "Come in," she sighed.

Tina stepped inside the house against her better judgment and looked around before turning back to Santana, who closed the door behind her.

"I thought your family moved away."

"They did."

"Oh," Tina said quietly and decided it was probably best not to ask questions, "I don't have long. My boyfriend is waiting for me. He doesn't know... a-about-"

"About how you're a major part of a tiny organization that aides a vampire slayer to save the town from evil on a daily basis? I get it. Most of my sexual conquests don't even know my middle name. Then again, that's not as big a detail, is it?"

"Mike isn't my sexual conqu-"

"Whatever. Did you come here for a reason?"

"Yes. I-I wanted to know the accuracy of the book. A-And I wanted to talk to you about it. But not here, right now. I have to go soon-"

"What prophecy are you talking about?"

"I can tell you later. If you agree to meet me somewhere. But... If I don't figure out some way to change this... Buffy could die."

Santana bit down on her lip. "Are you sure about that?"

"If I can trust this book is true, then yes. I'm certain."

The Latina shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, Slayer... Does this have anything to do with the earthquake last week?"

Tina shrugged. "It could be a sign."

"It's more likely than not. This is Ohio, after all. Earthquakes aren't really Lima's usual bag. Not since the Master, anyways."

"You know about the Master?"

"I know more than you think, Cho Chang."

Tina dropped her eyes to the floor. Cho Chang. It was the same thing that Quinn used to call her. Couldn't they think of anything better?

"I'm hear a lot of rumblings about some Anointed One," said Santana.

"What? But... the Anointed One is dead. Where did you hear that?"

Santana shrugged. "Some demons."

"Can you talk to them again? To find out what they know?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "I guess I could give Clem a call."

"Thanks. I haven't told Buffy."

"Good. Don't. It's pointless. She has enough on her plate. You guys have your... thing, coming up. Your glee club thing."

"Regionals. They're tomorrow night."

"Right. Look, if you really want to talk about this, meet me in the school tonight, at ten. After the sun goes down."

Tina nodded quickly. "Okay. Thank you, Santana."

"I'll hold on to this," said Santana, tucking the pergamum codex under her arm.

Tina nodded and skipped out the back door, sprinting back to her boyfriend's car.

"That took a while," said Mike, pulling out onto the street.

Tina picked at a loose hangnail. "We got to talking," she said quietly, staring out of the window of a vacant expression of mild relief.

"Something's going on, Tina."

Tina whipped her head of blue highlights to her boyfriend whose steely gaze was on the road ahead. "Look, I know you by now. You're a good person. You're smart and... grounded. But, Tina, I know Buffy."

"No, you don't."

"See, that's thing. Maybe I don't, but I definitely know that wherever she goes, weird stuff happens."

"I guess."

"I mean, I'm pretty quiet. I blend into the background, I guess, so I see things that other people don't, and I always seem to see that you guys are always doing something secretive. Planning something. And I know I overhear Finn talking about Buffy deals with weird things, whatever those weird things are. I just... I feel like you know more about things than you ever let me know."

Tina looked down, blushing pink from guilt. "I don't know what kind of things you mean."

"I mean... I found newspaper clippings in your purse."

Tina looked up, her brown eyes widened with alarm. "You went through my purse?"

"For gum! I didn't think I would... I didn't mean to pry. But, well, I found those extracts. Stuff like, a local cat gives birth to snakes. A boy born with his eyes facing inward. I know you're into Gothic, morbid things, and that's cool but... Tina, why do you need this stuff?"

Tina bit her lip, unsure of what she could tell and what she couldn't. So much of her life nowadays was about keeping secrets, and she hated it.

"There are things going on, Mike. And I don't mean Buffy doing weird things. She's the one who tries to stop the weird things from happening. It's this whole town."

Mike pulled into the Lima Mall parking lot, outside of their favorite dim sum restaurant. "Maybe the less I know about this stuff, the better."

"That's the way Finn sees it."

Mike sighed. "I can't believe Finn figured this out before I did."

"To be fair, his ex-girlfriend is a witch."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

xxx

Blood. It's been everywhere these days. Spilling out of Buffy when a vamp happened to snag her on a bad day. And now, pouring out of an outdoor drinking fountain. That's not normal, she thought to herself. And who did she go to when things weren't normal?

Mr. Schuester was probably still at the school after sun down, organizing glee club, or the training he's been doing with her lately. It was nothing she didn't know already, but she was happy they were finally getting some quality slayer-watcher time. She also pondered that perhaps her watcher was just never eager to go home. His apartment was cold and empty, like the school at night, only less cheerful. She shook her head and thought about how awful it must be for divorcees. There were so many of them, though. She treaded through the school when she heard a mumble of voices coming down the hall, from the choir room. Mr. Schuester must have had April over late to talk, and Buffy hoped she wouldn't be interrupting anything. She opened her mouth, about to say hello as she approached the door, but she stayed quiet as she spied Mr. Schue talking to Tina, and... Santana?

"It's clear. It's what's going to happen," Tina said as Buffy peered around the door frame, unnoticed.

"It can't be. You've got to be wrong," said Mr. Schuester.

"The book doesn't lie, Senor Schue," said Santana.

"I don't understand why you're apart of this or why we should trust you," grumbled Will.

"We don't have time for you to be on edge, Butt Chin, we just need to work out how to stop this, because this ishappening. There has to be a way around it."

"Some prophecies are pretty dodgy. I mean, Buffy herself has beaten them again and again, but... There is nothing in the codex that hasn't come to pass," said Tina.

"You're reading it wrong!" said Mr. Schuester, frustrated.

"I wish I were!" cried Tina, "But it's crystal clear. Tomorrow, Buffy will face the Master. And she'll die."

"I'll what?"

The other three turned to Buffy who stumbled through the doorway, her heart thudding in her rib cage.

"So that's it, huh?" she asked, her eyes wide with fear, "Is that just the drill? One slayer dies, next one's called. I wonder who she is. Will you train her, or will they send someone else?"

"Buffy, I-"

"Did it say how he was gonna kill me? Do you think it'll hurt?" asked Buffy, tears filling her eyes, "Were you even gonna tell me?"

Tina sighed. "We were hoping we wouldn't have to. That there was some way around it."

Buffy nodded. "I've got a way around it. I quit."

"It's not that simple, Slayer," said Santana.

"I'm making it that simple! I quit! I resign! I'm fired! You can find someone else to stop Sue Sylvester from taking over."

"I'm not sure anyone else can," sighed Will, "The signs indicate-"

"The signs?" asked Buffy, taking the framed portrait of Lillian Adler off the wall and smashing it against the next, "Read me the signs! Tell me my fortune! You guys are so useful sitting around with your books! Really a lot of help!"

Tina looked down, avoiding Buffy's tear-filled eyes, ashamed.

"I know this is hard-" sighed Santana.

"What would you know about this? You're never gonna die!"

"Do you think we want anything to happen to you? Do you think we could stand it? We just have to figure out a way-"

"I already did. I quit, remember? Pay attention."

"Buffy, if the Master rises-" said Will.

"I DON'T CARE!" shouted Buffy, "I don't care. Will, I'm sixteen years old. I don't want to die."

Will's eyes softened as Buffy tore her silver cross necklace from her neck and threw it to the ground, walking out of the choir room. No one tried to stop her.

xxx

Buffy looked through her photo album, slumped on the floor at the end of her bed, bleary eyed. Most of them were her with her parents at Disneyworld or at baseball games back in LA, but she didn't like to look at those, knowing how fake her parents' smiles were. The ones her finger traced over and over were the candid ones of her mother in the garden, or ones that Rachel insisted they took of them performing in Glee or out at Breadstix. There was even a photo of her and Rachel and Tina in their fluffy pajamas at their first slumber party.

Buffy sighed heavily, thinking about how she may never get the chance to have another sleepover with Rachel, and the girl was surprisingly good at hosting sleepovers, with an array of only academy award winning films on her shelves and a knack for baking.

"Hi, honey," her mom said as she opened the door, a laundry basket balanced on her hip, "Are you alright?"

"Sure," Buffy said tiresomely as Joyce dropped the basket down on the bed.

"Probably just full from that bite of dinner you nearly had," joked Joyce, "Feel like telling me what's on your mind?"

Buffy bit her lip and closed the photo album. "Mom, let's go away," she smiled hopefully.

"What?"

"Anywhere, just for a while. A weekend-"

"Honey-"

"No, it'll be great. You and me, a mother daughter thing. We can talk about all of the embarrassing things you love to bring up."

"You know the gallery's open on weekends."

"Mom, please."

"Isn't your competition tomorrow night?"

"I guess."

"Honey, it's okay to be nervous," said Joyce, sitting down on the bed and stroking her daughter's back, "Stage fright happens to everyone. And what's the worst that could happen? This night is just one of many that you have to be happy! You have the rest of your life ahead of you."

xxx

"I can't believe it, Finn. Regionals are in approximately twelve hours and nothing is prepared!" gasped Rachel as she skipped up the steps of McKinley High, an hour early for school, with Finn Hudson by her side.

Normally, the boy strolled into school twenty minutes late, every day, but Rachel asked for a ride in early and damn it, he was going to give it to her. He would probably do anything at this point just to hold Rachel's hand. It was just there at her side, so soft and pale-

"Finn, are you listening to me?" she asked.

"Yeah. Wait, what were you saying?"

Rachel shook her head and sighed, although she had a small smile on her face. "I was saying that the A/V club was supposed to give me the backing track to tonight's songs yesterday after school, and not a one showed up at my locker with the tape. I'm very disappointed with their tardiness. Do they realize how important this is to us?"

"Guess not," shrugged Finn, "But they'll have it today, right? I think everything will work out."

She smiled up at the tall boy. Normally, she would discourage that kind of blind optimism, but with Finn, she didn't care. She was content letting him believe that everything would be okay as they approached the door of the A/V room.

"If they're not here, I'll just have to find the tape myself and reprimand them for their laziness later."

Rachel opened the door and walked in, only to have her foot snag on something, tripping her up. She fell to the ground, her face immediately flushing red in embarrassment. She smoothed her skirt down and turned over on the floor.

"Oh my God..." Finn breathed.

Rachel looked around where she sat on the cold linoleum, at what she had tripped over, her mouth opening in shock and closing just as quickly. She'd tripped over the hefty leg of A/V club member, Lauren Zizes, blood drenching the large girl's tight clothes. Just like Lauren, the rest of the audio visual club lay around Rachel in a horrendous carpet of bloodshed, lifeless and mutilated. Rachel held her breath for so long she thought she might pass out, when she did. Her vision went black and she sunk to the floor. This hadn't been a simple vampire attack. This was a massacre.

xxx

"I've seen so much. I thought I could take anything."

Rachel held on to her legs, looking tinier than ever in Mr. Schuester's office chair, a big wool blanket draped over her slender shoulders and Finn at her side, his hand on her back, looking pale, as students bustled past outside the walls. He had watched the smaller girl faint and fall back into a pool of blood much earlier. She still had some of it on her hair.

"Buffy, this was different," said Rachel, biting back tears.

"It'll be alright," Buffy said quietly, leaning on her watcher's desk.

"I'm trying to find a way to explain it so you understand, but for once I'm lost for words."

"It doesn't matter, as long as you're okay."

"I'm not okay. I knew these people. They helped glee club, a lot, and when I walked in there, it wasn't our territory anymore. They made it there's, and they had fun doing it. What are we going to do?"

"What we have to. Are Regionals still on tonight?"

"Of course."

"Rachel-" started Finn.

"No, Finn, we should go. They died, but... Life doesn't stop for anyone else."

Buffy blinked. "You guys are right. You should head to Regionals after school, and I'll meet you there. It's a big gathering. Safe."

xxx

Tina liked the feel of their pretty chiffon gold dresses, but she didn't see the use, with the codex in her hands, and Mr. Schuester cleaning weapons in his office. School was over and the night was coming, and Tina feared the unknown. In a while, the rest of glee club would show up when the sun went down to board a bus that would bring them to their Regionals competition. It didn't look likely that the night would turn out that way, with Mr. Schue bustling around the room looking for something to defend himself with.

"I... might have found something," said Tina, but kept the disappointment in her eyes so he would know it wasn't something to save Buffy with, "'Wool shall live with the lamb. Shepard shall lay down with the kid, the calf, the lion with the little child to lead them'. It's kind of cute sounding for a message of doom, but I guess that depends where he's leading them to. There was a prophecy about the Anointed One. 'The Slayer will not know him and he will lead her into Hell'."

"So the Anointed is a kid?"

"It could be. We need to warn her."

"I don't think we should involve Buffy."

"What do you mean?"

"Buffy's not going to face the Master. I am."

"No, you're not," Buffy walked through the door, a leather jacket over her gold Regionals dress, "So I'm looking for a kid, huh? He'll lead me to the Master?"

"I'm not sending you out there to die."

"Well, you sure as hell are not going up against the Master."

"I've made my decision."

"So have I."

"I made mine first! I'm older than you and- Just do what you're told for once! Alright?"

Buffy shook her head. "That's not how it goes. I'm the Slayer."

"I don't care what the book says. I'm going, and there's nothing you can say that will change my mind."

"I know," she said, and punched her watcher hard on the side of his head, knocking him out.

Tina gasped as Mr. Schuester sunk to the floor, and Buffy picked up and put on the necklace she'd thrown off earlier.

"When he wakes up, tell him... I don't know. Think of something cool. Tell him I said it."

"You'll die if you fight the Master," whimpered Tina.

"Maybe," said Buffy, grabbing a crossbow, "But maybe I'll take her with me."


	21. The Showdown

Out in the McKinley High courtyard, a warm breeze flew through Buffy's sandy hair before any of the others showed up, and a small boy stood off in the distance of the thinly trimmed football field, staring at her. God, how she was sick of creepy little kids.

"Help me," he said as she approached, unconvincing.

"It's okay," she said calmly, "I know who you are."

The Anointed One held out his small hand, and she took, letting him lead her away. She didn't look back.

xxx

"She what?" asked Rachel, her hands balled into fists at her side as she stood in the choir room, amongst the small crowd of the other glee club members, her cheeks turning a worrying shade of pink.

"Yeah, she what?" asked Puck, his shoulder bumping against Quinn's, a thick eyebrow raised.

"And she knew about this prophecy of yours?" asked Rachel, "What do we do?"

"We stay calm, first of all," said Mr. Schuester, holding an ice pack to the side of his head.

"Calm?" asked Rachel.

"I think he's right," said Finn.

"No, Finn! I'm horrified and I intend to remain that way."

"Rachel-"

"How could you let her go?" Rachel asked Mr. Schuester.

"I did not _let _her go," protested Mr. Schuester.

"How can we help her?" asked Quinn, raising her soft voice above the hub bub of the room.

"Uh, I'm sorry to bring this up, but isn't there also an apocalypse to worry about?" asked Mercedes.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" asked Puck.

"So much for staying blissfully ignorant," sighed Mike, sitting at the piano bench with his girlfriend.

"It's okay," Tina patted his back, "I'll explain it all later."

"Once the Master gets free, the Hellmouth opens, the demons come to party and everybody dies," said Kurt.

"What?" exclaimed Puck.

"I don't care. I apologize," said Rachel, "But I just don't. We have to help Buffy."

"We don't even know where she is!" said Mr. Schuester.

Rachel turned and grabbed Quinn by the shoulders, staring into the girl's pale green eyes.

"Quinn, you can do something right?" asked Rachel.

"What are you talking about?" asked Puck, standing protectively close to the mother of his unborn child.

"A locator spell or something? Those are possible, right?"

"Quinn, what is she talking about?"

Quinn bit her lip, looking nervous. "My water broke."

In an awkward silence, everyone stared at the water spilling down the pregnant girl's leg from under her satin dress.

"Oh my God," breathed Puck.

"We have to get her to a hospital," said Will, standing up.

"I have my car outside!" said Kurt, heading towards the door, as everyone else flooded out, Quinn repeating breathing exercises and Puck clutched her, walking away, everyone flooding out.

"Guys, you can't all fit in my car!" cried Kurt.

"Puck has to come!" cried Quinn, clutching her stomach, "And... Rachel."

Rachel looked surprised that she was wanted at the birth of Quinn's child, but she shook her head. "I have to find Buffy."

"Rachel, you can't," sighed Finn.

"I've got to try!"

As most of the glee club left, Piper Saberhagen chewed her fingernails and sat on one of the choir room's plastic chairs. "I'm so confused," she sighed to herself.

xxx

"Well, look who's here. Jew Nose. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mind if I come in?"

Rachel hadn't seen Santana Lopez since the start of the school year, and she was glad not to. She avoided a lot of slushie facials and catty name calling. But right now, Rachel didn't know a better place to start than the address Tina gave her.

"Make yourself at home," Santana rolled her eyes as the smaller girl brushed past her and walked in in a silly gold dress, "What is it with you glee club losers thinking you can barge in any time you want?"

"You haven't changed, Santana, but that's hardly the point. Buffy is gone to fight the Master. None of us know how you know her, but we know you do, and that you can help."

"She'll die," sighed Santana.

"We're not going to let that happen."

"And what do you propose we do, Berry? You're more helpless than anyone in this town."

"This Master person is underground, correct? Maybe you can help me find her."

"You're _way _out of your league, kid. You think you can swoop in a save the Master from killing Buffy, by, what? The power of your screechy voice. You're not Jigglypuff, hon. And you can't help her. The Master will kill you before you take a breath. I've had the displeasure of messing with her cronies. She's got some serious followers, Stubbles. She's like the Voldemort of Lima."

Rachel sighed. "I don't know how to put this to you, Santana," she said, before pulling a cross out of her purse and holding it up to the Latina 's face.

Santana cowered back, growling lowly.

"I know what you are. I can be oblivious at times, but I'm not dumb. Your family abandoned you here and all of a sudden you're an acquaintance of Buffy's. You saved us from that night with Suzy Pepper, and... well, look at you. Pale skin. Red eyes. My best friend is a slayer. I've picked up a little bit of an instinct. At the end of the day, you're a demon like the rest of them, but Buffy seems to think otherwise. For whatever reason, she trusts you and she keeps your secret, even from the people closest to her. I don't think it's fair for her to stick her neck out for you when you won't even help her from certain death."

"That's the point, Berry ," hissed Santana, "_Certain _death. Meaning, there's nothing we can do about it."

"I beg to differ. You're going to help me help her, whether you like it or not."

Santana scowled. "What are you, in love with her?"

"Aren't we all?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Santana scowled.

"Buffy is important, to everyone. She's a good person. The best person I know. She deserves to be saved."

xxx

Buffy had only been in these sewers once before, and she didn't feel much safer with a crossbow in her hands. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. It wasn't long before she was following the Anointed One into completely new territory, past the infrastructure of the sewers and down a stony underground path lined with lit torches. He stopped just before a wide opening, gesturing for her to head in before he turned around and left. She walked deeper into what she suspected was the Master's lair, but she couldn't see much in the dim light. She could only smell damp rock.

"Welcome, Marilyn. You didn't have to get all dressed up in that horrid shade of gold just for little old Sue Sylvester," she heard the Master's voice say.

"Thanks for having me," Buffy muttered, and the Master stepped forward in a bright blue tracksuit, a subtle smile on her thin lips, "You really oughta talk to your contractor. Looks like you got some water damage."

"Fun, the feeble banter portion of the fight. My excellent fighting skills were honed by the Nazi hunting parents, but my wit and charm is all my own."

Buffy shot a bow at the Master's chest, but she caught it in one pale hand.

"Nice shot, Jessica Simpson, but you're not gonna kill me with that prehistoric contraption. Didn't your watcher dish out for something a little more modern? Or did he blow all his money on copious vats of hair gel and chin diapers?"

"I thought the feeble banter part of the night was over," Buffy rolled her eyes after the chin diaper quip.

"Hold your lace panties on, Brooke Hogan, I want this night to last."

"I don't," grumbled Buffy.

"Well, allow me to oblige."

Sue Sylvester threw the crossbow out of Buffy's reach with the flick of her bony hand and clutched Buffy's neck, lifting her inches above the ground.

xxx

"Okay, so the vampires have been gathering. They know he's coming. They'll be his army," Mr. Schuester repeated, leaning over a pile of books spread over the top of the piano, with Tina by his side.

"I wonder how Quinn's doing."

"Now's not the time to worry about that."

"Sorry. Do you think they'll gather at the Hellmouth?"

"The last time the Master tried to rise was the Harvest. He sent a bunch of vampires to get him fresh blood. That was at Breadstix."

"Oh my God. We have to go help the people at Breadstix!"

"Come on, my car's in the lot."

Will and Tina rushed outside to the parking lot as the sun set over Lima, Will fumbling for the car keys in his pinstriped trouser pocket.

"What if the vampires get to Breadstix before we do?" asked Tina, her thin black eyebrows knitted together.

"We don't have to worry about that," Mr. Schuester gulped and lost the grip on his car keys, staring ahead at a wide gang of vampires just beyond his outdated blue car.

At least forty of them, headed their way. As Tina turned around, the vamps were blocking the entrance to the school behind them, slowly swaggering their way, looking cocky and ready to kill.

"Why are they coming here?" asked Tina.

"I don't really care about asking why right now," Mr. Schuester frowned.

They stood back to back, grimacing at the oncoming horde of vampires with no avenue of escape. They were startled as they heard the sound of a revved engine and a red Mercedes pulled up to them, the passenger door flying open.

"Get in!" Morgan Ru called loudly.

Mr. Schuester got in and Tina threw herself into the backseat, breathless with relief.

"What do we do?" whimpers Morgan.

"We have to get back to the choir room," said Mr. Schuester.

"Choir room. Right. Great."

Morgan slammed her foot down on the gas and the car peeled away, Mr. Schuester and Tina bracing themselves as they clutch onto their seats.

"We generally walk there..." Tina mumbled as Morgan's car rumbled over the entrance steps and slammed the front door off of its hinges.

The car charged down the hall at a dangerous speed, vampires following closely on foot. Morgan slammed on the brakes as soon as they were outside the choir room.

"Out!" she yelled, and the three of them sped out of the car and fled to their safe haven.

xxx

Fighting against the Master was virtually useless. Despite her frail appearance, the demonic woman had the strength of a linebacker, and was limber, too. Buffy's only remaining instinct was to run. Every time her sharp nails twisted around Buffy's neck, the slayer was sure that this was the end, but she kept escaping Sue's clutches, eager to live just one more second. The Master grasped Buffy by the shoulders, in a crushing bear hug.

"You must have heard the prophecy," Sue said into her ear, "What with that self-hating Asian nerd on your team, I'm sure you think you've got the upper hand, academically. But that's the thing, Slayer. As extraordinarily intelligent as I am, it all comes down to gumption. Some have it, some don't, and by gosh, Dolly Parton, you don't."

Before Buffy could stop her, the Master sunk her porcelain teeth into Buffy's milky white neck, and her eyes widened in a state of shock as she felt the blood draining out of her torso, helpless to stop it.

"Wow," sighed the Master, her lips slathered with the red liquid as she let go of Buffy, the slayer sinking to the ground, "That booze is better than any crushed iron tablet smoothie I've ever had."

Buffy sunk face first into a wide puddle in the rocky ground, her body relaxing into unconsciousness as she passed out, the water smothering her face. As Sue reached her hand out, the force that trapped her in her dim lair was no longer there, and she stepped through, a smug smile on her face as she ripped through the force field, the sound of thunder rolling behind her as she walked away.

"What was that?" asked Rachel, shivering in the depths of the rocky corridor.

Santana had led her through the sewers to the deepest part of the earth they could access. "It's too late," sighed Santana, biting her plump red bottom lip, "Come on!"

She couldn't tell if the midget was keeping up or not, but Santana thundered through the tunnels, and kept running until the space became wide and surrounded with lit candles. If her heart could beat, it would have ripped a whole right in her chest when she saw the slayer lying face first in a small pool of water, unmoving. She sprinted through the water to lift Buffy out, clutching the soaking girl in her arms as Rachel Berry finally arrived behind them in a pair of heavy loafers, out of breath.

"Buffy," she gasped, as Santana pushed the wet blond hair out of the slayer's face.

"Fuck," Santana said under her breath, terrified.

After all the blond had done for her... This couldn't be the end.

"She's dead," Santana muttered when she couldn't hear Buffy's heart beating through her pale chest.

"No. That's impossible," said Rachel, rushing closer and falling on her knees at Buffy's side, scuffing her white tights on the floor of the cave.

"She's not breathing," Santana said, struggling to stop her hands from shaking under Buffy's cold, damp body.

"CPR," Rachel mumbled, too stunned to form a full sentence.

"You have to do it," Santana said urgently, pushing Buffy onto Rachel's lap, "I have no breath..."

Rachel shrugged off her cardigan and remembered what she learned from Health Class the day their teacher brought out that barbaric rubber mannequin. Only Buffy was not a doll. She was a person. One of the most important people in the world.

With her nimble fingers, she opened Buffy's mouth and brought her shaky lips down to the slayer's, blowing in air quickly and pressing down on Buffy's chest.

"Come on," she pleaded quietly, tears brimming in her eyes as she pressed down heavily.

It seemed hopeless, until the slayer's eyes fluttered open, and she spluttered water out of her mouth, coughing and sitting up on the damp floor.

"Buffy," Rachel smiled, sighing with relief as her best friend awoke, coughing the water out of her lungs.

"Rachel?" said Buffy, as the brunette stroked the blonde's hair, smiling ecstatically.

"Welcome back," smiled Rachel, still in her gold Regionals dress and strappy heels.

"Regionals..." Buffy croaked.

"I didn't go. This was far more important."

"But... The show must go on?"

"The show's over," frowned Rachel, "But there's another one happening right now. And we have to stop it."

Buffy nodded, disoriented, and stood up with the help of Rachel and Santana on her either side. Her wet gold dress clung to her body.

"The Master?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"She left," said Santana.

Buffy gulped, and pushed forward on her shivering legs, her knees knocking together.

"Wait, you're still weak," said Rachel.

"No," Buffy shook her head, "I feel strong. I feel different. Let's go."

She strode forward with determination, ready to avenge her own death.

"How do you know where the Master will be?" asked Rachel.

She tried to keep up the pace with the long-legged Santana and the fast and furious Buffy Summers as the girls strode confidently towards town.

"I know," was all Buffy replied with, ready and determined when a vampire popped out of an alcove, snarling with his demonic wrinkled brow.

"Oh, look, a bad guy," Buffy rolled her eyes, and sent a stake flying into the vamp's chest.

It wasn't long before they reached McKinley High, through the back entrance. "You two wait here," said Buffy, "One way or another, this won't take long."

Rachel and Santana didn't like the ominous sound of that promise, but they watched obediently as Buffy climbed a fire escape to the roof of the school.

xxx

Meanwhile, Will, Tina and Morgan Ru broke a sweat pushing all of the choir room furniture in front of the choir room doors, blocking out the vampires that scratched against the door with their dangerous nails and fangs.

"They're getting in through the back!" screamed Tina, her heart pounding wildly as vampires scratched and banged against the windows in the back wall of the room.

"The shelves!" Morgan thought on her feet, pulling Tina towards the half-filled bookshelves and struggling to lift them to the back of the room. Just as they attempted to shove one shelf in front of a window, a hand broke through the single paned glass and grabbed a hold of Morgan's wrist. She gasped and retraced her fighting techniques from her toddler years, and bit the vamp's hand.

"See how you like it," she spat.

"This won't hold for long," cried Tina, her back against the book shelf, and Mr. Schuester straining to keep the piano in front of the door. She screamed wildly when something wrapped itself around her ankle - a long, slimy tentacle made from what looked like charred flesh, poking out of the linoleum floor and slithering around Tina's leg. The ground rumbled and the linoleum sliced open, more tentacles slithering out of the broken ground, breaking the wooden pillars where the chairs were set so that jagged pieces of wood protruded from the floor.

"The Hellmouth," muttered Will, his eyebrows knitted together, horrified.

Morgan screamed for Will as she grabbed Tina's arms, pulling her away from the slimy tentacled beast. Will whipped around to the piano where a box of weapons laid, picking up the sharpest thing he could see. With one whip of an axe, he cut the tentacle clean off that was gripping Tina, and the girl ceased the screaming. She eyed the split ground with horror, though - there was more where that came from.

xxx

"That's it," Sue Sylvester sighed with pleasure, "Crawl out of the Hellmouth and eat these worthless bottom feeding glee clubbers. Thrive in my world!"

"I don't think it's yours just yet," said Buffy, climbing up the fire escape with her gold dress flowing behind her.

"You..." said the Master, whipping her head around and frowning on the roof of McKinley High, "I killed you! You're dead!"

"I may be dead, but I'm still pretty," smirked Buffy, "Which is more than I can say for you."

"You were destined to die, Marsha! It was written!"

"What can I say? I flunked the written."

"Come!" shouted Sue, holding out one sharp fingered hand, and gripping Buffy's slender neck, "Did you really think you could best me here when you couldn't downstairs?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "You have blood breath."

She sent a back fisted punch into the Master's bony face.

"Save the hypnosis crap for the tourists," she spat, and kicked the Master down hard.

The Master came back with a grab at Buffy's ankle, pulling her down to ground.

"Where are your puns now, Slayer? Is your smart mouth gonna help you when your world will be my Hell?"

"You're that amped about Hell?" asked Buffy, "Go there!"

Buffy kicked the Master off of her and pushed her down with such force that she broke through the roof, falling through and landing in the choir room among the wild tentacles, Tina, Will and Morgan Ru. The Master landed on one jagged piece of wooden chair and gasped, her skin fading away like dust to leave nothing but pale bone lying on the floor.

The tentacles slithered back through the crack in the ground, losing their grip around Tina's ankles. The girls quietened their frightened screams and Mr. Schuester set down the axe, flabbergasted. All was strangely quiet as the danger lurked back to where it belonged, and the others blinked at each other, wondering if it was all really over.

It wasn't long before Buffy, Rachel and Santana joined them, caked in dust and sweat. Buffy stared at the lifeless bones of the Master, speechless.

"Vampires?" asked Will.

"Gone," said Rachel.

"The Master?" asked Santana.

"Dead," said Will, "The Hellmouth is closed... Buffy?"

Buffy tore her eyes away from the bones, and Will noticed a hint of a tear down her cheek. "Sorry," she said, a little breathlessly, "It's been a really weird day."

"Yeah, well, you died and everything," shrugged Santana.

"Wow," sighed Tina, "You died?"

"I should have known that wouldn't stop you," smirked Will.

"What do we do now?" asked Rachel.

"I don't know about you guys, but I want to get out of here," Will nodded, his eyes trailing to the split in the ground.

"I hear there's a Regionals after party," Rachel said hopefully, "It could be fun."

"Buffy?" asked Tina.

Buffy smirked. "Sure. We saved the world. I say we party. I mean... I got all pretty."

"What about her?" asked Santana, eyeing the Master's bones.

"She's not going anywhere," said Buffy, staring absentmindedly at the bones once more, "And I'm really, really hungry."


	22. The Musical Companion  Season One

'**Lima, Ohio: The Other, Other Hellmouth' Musical Companion**

**The Soundtrack to the Story**

**Season One**

**The Master**

**DOWNLOAD LINK ON PROFILE PAGE**

**Little Boots - New In Town  
><strong>_When you wake up can you hear the scream? / So don't rely on people you meet / Cause no-one's safe in these streets_

**Feist - Graveyard**_  
>Dirt and grass, a shadow heart, the moons sails past  Blood as ice is an empty crisis, lonely it lies_

**Superchick - Hey Hey (Vampires vs. Cheerleaders remix)**_  
>No one can sing the song you do  Be true, be legendary you_

**Lana Del Rey - Dark Paradise**_  
>Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  No one compares with you, I'm scared that you / Won't be waiting on the other side_

**Band of Skulls - Blood  
><strong>_We aim to make a difference / Get a sense of meaning from our time here_

**The Divinyls - I Touch Myself**_  
>I don't want anybody else  When I think about you I touch myself_

**Ingrid Michaelson - Masochist**_  
>And I think that I like her  Cause she tells me things I don't want to hear / Medicinal tongue in my ear_

**The Creepshow - The Garden**_  
>Frozen dreams and nightmares have you forgetting a dream  Of what you always thought you could've been_

**Lady Gaga - Teeth**_  
>Show me your teeth  It's not how big, it's how mean_

**Fiona Apple - Paper Bag**_  
>Hunger hurts but starving works  When it costs too much to love_

**The Black Lips - New Direction**_  
>Living in a fantasy I walk around and lucid dream  The day has past, the moon's aglow / I lie awake, my eyes are closed_

**My Chemical Romance - Dead**_  
>Have you heard the news that you're dead?  No one ever had much nice to say / I think they never liked you anyway_


	23. The Return

**Season 2**

**The Young and the Soulless**

So here's what you missed on Lima, Ohio: The Other, Other Hellmouth:

Everyone thought Buffy Summers was just another girl from LA, but it turns out, she's the chosen one. One girl in all the world with the skill and strength to fight the-

**Buffy: "-vampires. To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. Yeah, my old watcher gave me the same old spiel and he didn't have to use cheat tactics to do it!"**

But Buffy's secret identity isn't so secret. Will and Rachel and Tina and Artie and Mike and Morgan and Quinn and Brittany know.

**Santana:"Jesus, slayer, you're not much of a secret keeper."**

**Buffy: "No, I am! They're the only ones who know! Well, there's also Finn-"**

Santana has a secret though, too. She's a vampire with a soul and her parents abandoned her for it.

**Santana: "Because I'm a vampire. And I'm gay. I'm a big gay vampire and my parents hate me."**

Her soul came with a curse, though.

**D'Hoffryn: "The curse of eternal despair. If Santana were to ever experience true happiness, her soul would leave again, and she'd be the demon she was supposed to be."**

Bummer. I guess that means Santana and Brittany can't be together. Not a lot of dating goes on in the Hellmouth.

**Will: "Your dating life will just have to be put on hold."**

**Buffy: "Like yours?"**

Buffy fought an uber-vamp who called herself The Master and even though she died a little bit, she was revived and kicked Master ass.

**The Master: "You were destined to die, Marsha! It was written!"**

**Buffy: "What can I say? I flunked the written."**

And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

It was Rachel Berry's year.

She could feel it in the air. The breeze would turn from the sweet warmth of summer to an autumn chill, and with it, Rachel could feel her year turning in its place. She didn't know what it was, but she felt victorious. Perhaps she was just elated by the summer she'd spent with her boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. Rachel Berry was one of those girls with a broad shouldered hunk holding the door and pulling out chairs for her. She felt like the luckiest girl in the world with a handsome gentlemen by her side.

"But if we aren't supposed to eat at night, then why put a light in the refrigerator?"

Rachel smirked and rolled her eyes. "It's not healthy, Finn. You eat and you go to bed, and your body wastes energy digesting food when it should be resting. Just, trust me."

As perfect as she thought her boyfriend was, she spent a lot of time perfecting him.

"I don't know, if I get hungry for a grilled cheese sandwich at midnight, I don't think anything can stop me."

Rachel frowned sternly at him before shaking her head with a smile, looping her arm into his. The sun was setting rapidlly over Lima, and they found themselves strolling near the graveyard - a place they'd been monitoring absentmindedly since Buffy left for the summer. They didn't feel the same eerie chill as they used to when passing the Lima Cemetery, knowing that the Master was dead and buried. That, and the setting sun sent orange and pink ripples over the sky.

Rachel sighed. It was all so romantic. And yet she was restless. Her sophomore year had been full of danger and excitement, and she was itching for what her junior year would have in store.

"I can't wait for school to start again," she sighed to Finn, who wrinkled his nose.

"Why?"

"I need something to do. Summer gets boring after a while. Plus, I need to see Buffy."

Finn shrugged. "I don't know. I like summer. I don't have to do anything I don't want to. I can sit around at home watching movies with you all day."

Rachel smiled. "That's sweet, Finn, but I'm a woman who simply needs a mission. Last year held nightmares coming to life and insects posing as substitute teachers-"

"Trust me, I remember. But the Hellmouth is closed now? And, I mean, we haven't see a vampire all summer. Maybe none of that stuff will happen this year."

Rachel pouted. "Don't put a damper on the possibility of excitement, Finn."

"Excitement? Don't you mean... horror?"

"I know, I know, but... despite everything, last year was a good year. Sure, some horrible stuff happened to both of us. Your girlfriend and best friend had a child together. My mother and ex-boyfriend rejected and humiliated me. But it was worth it, you know?"

"No," Finn raised an eyebrow.

Rachel sighed and looked up at the darkening sky. "We saved the world, Finn. Multiple times. We saved people and we stopped evil. It was scary at times, but it was a good cause. I felt appreciated."

Finn stopped in his place on the sidewalk outside the cemetery and turned to his girlfriend, holding her face in his large hands. "I appreciate you," he smiled, "And I love you."

Rachel grinned in his gentle grip and closed her brown eyes as he leaned in to kiss her softly. Just as Rachel was beginning to enjoy the lack of danger, a vampire swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere, with his fangs bared and his brow wrinkled demonicly. Finn pulled Rachel's arm and pushed her behind him, attempting to beat back the vamp with brute force, sending a backfisted punch to his face. The vampire lunged forward, gripping Finn's shoulders, ready to bite...

Before Finn could break a sweat, the vampire tore away, being beaten back by a blond in a skirt. He sighed in relief and Rachel shook her head, stunned. Buffy Summers always seemed to show up in the nick of time. Buffy slammed the vampire to the pavement and lifted her head before staking the demon.

"Hi guys," she smirked quickly, a plunged a stake into his heart. The vamp burst into a mound of dust, the wind blowing his remains away. "Miss me?"

The couple piled in for a hug with their dainty blond friend, and Rachel pulled back, staring at Buffy with a wide smile. She looked the same, and yet different. Her blond hair was cut shorter until it was just below her jawline, frayed and spiked to wild perfection, and her trademark leather jacket was draped over her shoulders with a matching skirt. She smirked coolly.

"How long have you been back?" asked Finn.

"Just got back today. And I figured you losers would be getting into some kind of trouble," Buffy grinned.

"I think we had the upper hand," Finn shrugged, "In a subtle way."

"Did you guys even have a cross? Very sloppy."

"It's been a slow summer," said Rachel, "That's the first vampire we've seen since you killed the Master."

Buffy frowned. "It's almost like they knew I was coming back," she said.

"So how was your summer? Did you slay anything?" Rachel asked eagerly as the three of them walked on.

"Nope. Just hung out, partied some. Shopping was also a major theme."

"Well, you haven't lost your touch... I like your hair!"

"Yours too..." smirked Buffy, "You got bangs. So, you guys have any fun without me?"

Rachel and Finn said yes and no respectively and simultaneously.

"It was sort of uneventful," shrugged Rachel, "The biggest excitement was burying the Master."

"I forgot about that. Right by that big tree. Mr. Schue buried the bones and we poured holy water... We even got to wear robes," smiled Finn.

"It was pretty cool," smiled Rachel, "Have you seen Mr. Schuester?"

"Why would I do that? I'll see him at school."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'm glad you're back."

"Glad to be back," she said quietly.

xxx

It was Will Schuester's year. He could feel it in his bones. It all starts with a good hair day, and he was assured that this was gonna be the year of his life. His shoes were buffed and polished and squeaked cheerily against the linoleum tiles on the first day of school. He felt... victorious. And yet, as he stared the glee club sign up sheet in the face, the only things that stared him back were the lazily scrawled names Buttface McBallnuts and Assbraham Lincolon. Will sighed. They weren't even funny.

He shook his head at the Cheerios sign up sheet bursting with overlapping signatures. He was determined for this year to be not only victorious for himself, but for New Directions. This time around, Nationals were in New York and he knew his students would be excited to hear it. He bit a fingernail and turned his head to see a familiar redhead rounding the corner and avoiding physical contact with the students bustling about her. He fixed his tie and took a deep breath as she approached, looking adorable in a yellow skirt suit.

"Emma!" he smiled brightly as her eyes connected with his.

"Will," she said, her eyes shifting away to the linoleum tiles, "How was your summer?"

Will grinned. He'd already gotten at least seven 'how was your summer?'s from his co-workers.

"Uneventful," he shrugged, "How was yours?"

Emma smirked. "Eventful."

An awkward moment passed as Will balled his fists. "Look, I wanted to ask you something."

"About Quinn Fabray?"

Will paused. "Um, no... Why would I ask about Quinn Fabray?"

Emma looked solemn, her eyes shifting to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. "I wanted to talk to Quinn about starting new sessions this year. I can only imagine what she's going through."

Will nodded, frowning. With the optimism of the new school year, he'd almost forgotten that one of his students, the graceful Quinn Fabray, had given birth during last year's would-be apocalypse.

"Do you know what happened to the baby?"

"She gave it up for adoption. I went to visit her afterwards, and she said the baby was adopted the day she was born."

"That was fast."

"I'll say. It's almost suspicious."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean..." she hushed her tone, "Adoption takes time. But Quinn's daughter was adopted almost immediately."

"Who adopted her?"

"I don't know. Quinn wasn't informed. I assumed it was a closed adoption."

"Surely the adoptive parents were checked out before they took the baby home."

"Of course, of course. It's just suspicious is all. You'll help me with getting through to Quinn, won't you?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. She's just so reserved. She won't tell me anything. I tried to visit her parents, but they refuse to talk about Quinn. I have to do something. Parents can't just abandon their children."

"Where is she staying?"

"She keeps telling me she's staying with a cousin on the other side of town but she hasn't given me any contact information."

Will furrowed his brow. "I'm sure everything will work out."

"You're so optimistic, Will," Emma smirked.

Will shrugged, smiling. "I had that question to ask you."

"Oh, sorry! Go ahead."

"I just wanted to know if you'd want to go to a play with me. Death of a Salesman is playing in the town theatre on Saturday-"

"I can't."

Will's smile faltered. "Is it a gore thing? Because don't let the name fool you, it's clean."

"I'm familiar with the play, I just... I'm seeing someone."

Will blinked. "Oh..."

"I was just having a regular check-up with my dentist, and he must have been charmed with my impeccable oral hygiene, because he asked me on a date," she shrugged, grinning widely, "I'm sorry, Will."

"No, no, it's fine. Good for you," he painted on a fake smile and nodded his head.

Emma sighed and patted the side of his shoulder. "You'll find someone, Will. There's somebody for everyone."

He smiled bitterly as she walked away on her kitten heels. It didn't feel that long ago when he was happily married, telling her the exact same thing. Then again, the days of Terri the Terrible felt so long ago when it came to his days spent with Buffy.

His mind became muddled and he lost his current thoughts as he spotted the girl pushing her way past people through the school hallways, her sandy blond hair cut above her shoulders to look both sleek and wild. She looked blank and absent until she fixed her gaze on Will and walked up to him, smirking.

"How are you?" he asked, almost stunned to see her for the first time since the day she died.

"Alive and kicking," she smirked.

Will nodded. "Glad to have you back."

Buffy nodded absently as the bell rang. "So when do we start training?"

Will raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't have to start right now. I actually wanted to show you something I put together for you guys to perform."

"Huh?" Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"Glee club? I want to get kids motivated to join, so I thought you guys could showcase your talents in the courtyard tomorrow."

Buffy frowned. "I didn't realize singing was more important than slaying."

"What? No, it's not... We can start training whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready."

"Okay... I guess we can train after school today-"

"Good."

Buffy walked away to her next class, stiffly in a pair of black leather boots, leaving Will Schuester speechless.

xxx

Her gaze was lost among the sea of students making it to their next class, unnaturally quiet, leaving her to her daydreaming. She sat on a wicker sofa in an alcove of the school, her head rested in her hand. She couldn't remember how she got here and she didn't know when she should leave again, but right now, she needed to rest. She was so lost in thought that Kurt had to call her name for the second time before she answered.

"Buffy?... Buffy!"

"Fine!" she replied without thinking, "I'm fine."

Her attention snapped to the pixie-ish boy and his shorter friend, Mercedes Jones. The two smirked and took a seat on either side of Buffy, setting their satchels aside.

"What were you thinking about?" asked Mercedes, her diamond nose ring glittering in the light.

"Nothing," Buffy shrugged.

"Didn't look like nothing," Kurt smirked.

"I wasn't thinking anything, really," Buffy smiled.

"What'd you do last night?" asked Mercedes.

Buffy shrugged. "Slept. I had a lot of weird dreams."

"Well, dreams can be meaningful," said Kurt, taking a bottle of water out of his bag.

"Buffy!"

Buffy whipped her head around to see Mr. Schuester walking up to them, his eyes shifting nervously.

"Mr. Schue, what is it?" she asked, "You look worried."

"This vampire gang. I think I finally know what they're up to."

"Well, we'll deal with it," she said confidently, standing up to talk to her watcher.

"I don't think it's that simple."

"Don't worry about it. Trust me."

"I don't know about that. I killed you once, it should be pretty easy to do it again."

Buffy skipped a beat. "What?" she asked, before Mr. Schuester slammed his fist against her head, sending her falling to the ground. He pounced on her, clutching her throat with his large hands, suffocating her while Kurt and Mercedes stared off into the distance, uninterested.

She blinked and she was in her bedroom, sweating and her mouth tasting like cotton. It was just a dream. She sighed with relief and sat up, looking around her dark room. The streetlight poured in and illuminated her floors, but the rest of the room was encased in shadows. Her eyes trailed to the window as she noticed a figure outside her window, leaning against the ledge.

"Hello," she said curiously.

"Mind if I come in?" asked Santana, her head poking into the room.

"Be my guest," Buffy said quietly.

Santana let a moment pass by as she took in the room. "How are you?"

"Peachy," smirked Buffy.

Santana scoffed as if she didn't believe her.

"So is this a social call?" asked Buffy, "Because it's kind of late. Well, it is for me, anyway. What is it for you, lunch hour?"

Santana smirked and licked the taste of tequila off of her lips. "Happy hour."

"Charming."

"You're in danger."

Buffy frowned. "Gosh, it's good to be home."

"Sorry," Santana said genuinely.

"So, what? Some of your cousins are in town for a family barbecue and we're all on the menu?"

"I hear the Anointed One has been rounding up somewhat of a posse. I don't know where or why."

"Guess I'll find out soon enough, huh?" Buffy shrugged.

"You don't sound too worried, Slayer."

"I can handle myself. Besides, I could use a little action anyway."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't underestimate the kid. He holds some serious mojo over the others. They're putty in his infant hands."

"Is that it? 'Cause you woke me up from a really good dream."

Buffy turned over in her bed and wrapped herself under the covers. She could feel the vampire's eyes rolling as she turned away and climbed onto the window ledge.

xxx

The cold sweat of her own fists made marks in the leather punching bag suspended in the back room of the McKinley High auditorium, as Buffy sent blow after blow into it, grunting and breathing heavily. She wasn't so much concentrating on agility anymore, but her own brute force. Whatever was coming, she was determined to fix it.

"Buffy?"

She spun around, her forehead damp with sweat, and stood in a predatory stance, caught off guard by the figure in the door. She blinked a moment before realizing it was Tina, and relaxed her muscles, standing up straight and wiping the sweat from her neck.

"Hey," she said quietly, throwing a McKinley PE sweatshirt over her head.

"Hi," Tina said.

Buffy noted that even though her voice was the same, she somehow looked different. She still wore a black and gray Victorian style dress and matte black nails, but her makeup was more natural and there was no wash out blue streak in her hair anymore. She looked less... hidden.

"I never saw you yesterday," said Tina, a semblance of irritation passing through her brown eyes.

Buffy rested her hands on her hips and looked at the girl sullenly. It hadn't occurred to her to see Tina. The only people Buffy saw yesterday had come to her in passing. She didn't seek anyone out. She didn't feel the need to talk to anyone. She just wanted to train. But here she was surprised that Tina looked almost hurt.

"I didn't get the chance..." Buffy said distantly.

"Is there something... not of the norm?"

Buffy had to chuckle. Her scooby gang spoke like her sometimes. "Maybe," she sighed, "Santana dropped by last night."

"Santana?" Tina raised an eyebrow, "What for?"

Buffy shrugged. "Something's up. Nothing I can't handle. Did you want something?"

"No... Just to say hi. And Rachel asked me to reprimand you for not showing up to the performance in the courtyard."

Buffy groaned. "I forgot. Sort of."

The bell sounded obnoxiously loud and Buffy slung her backpack over her shoulder. The girls walked out of the back room and hopped off stage, striding out of the auditorium to their next class.

"We sang Empire State of Mind. Apparently Nationals are in New York this year," Tina smiled, mildly excited as she walked Buffy out of the auditorium and into the hallways, their fellow students passing them and paying them zero attention.

"I might not do the whole glee club thing this year."

"What do you mean?" Tina gasped, "Everyone is doing glee club. You can't quit now."

"Why not? It was just a way to prove to Ms. Pillsbury that I was sane and preoccupied. It kept her off my back. But I'm not obligated to do it anymore."

"But that's not the point. None of us are obligated to. We do it because it's fun, and rewarding. If this is about your singing, you're not that bad! You just need a little work. I could help you. Rachel and I could help you. You know how she loves a project."

"Tina, chill. It's just not my thing."

Tina frowned. "But... Glee club gives you a perfect reason to spend so much time solving cases with the rest of the scooby gang."

"Yeah... Maybe we shouldn't do this whole scooby thing either..."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Before Buffy could reply, the girls were abruptly approached in the middle of the hall by Morgan Ru, clad in her tight fitting red and white official Cheerios uniform, her dark brown ponytail high up on her head with a cheerful curl that matched her toothy grin.

"Hello, Buffy. Girl Chang," Morgan nodded to the two of them, "So, you guys fight any demons this summer?"

Tina gaped and Buffy rolled her eyes. "If by demons you mean our own personal demons, such as lust and... thrift."

"What are you talking about?" Morgan furrowed her brow, "I'm talking about big squiggly demons that came from the ground. Remember? With all the vampires?"

"Morgan," chuckled Buffy, "Your mouth is open. Sound is coming from it. This is never good."

"Morgan, we can't talk about those kinds of things in front of other people," Tina leaned in with a hushed tone.

"Fine. That's not what I wanted to talk about, anyways," sighed Morgan, "I wanted to talk to Buffy."

"Yay," Buffy said monotonously.

"I have a proposal," Morgan smiled and rocked on her feet, "The Cheerios are scouting for a couple new members, and in this dump it's hard to find people who are cool enough. But you have your dangerous city girl thing going on, so I thought we could work on your dance skills and have you on the team by the end of the week."

Buffy blinked and scoffed. "Nice try Skipper but I'm not leaving one obnoxiously cheerful club to join another."

"Wait, so you're quitting glee club?" asked Morgan as Tina grimaced, "Even better for your rep! You are going to love Cheerios."

"I am not joining your vapid little group, Morgan," Buffy rolled her eyes.

Morgan winced. "Every girl in this school wants to be a Cheerio, Buffy Summers."

"I guess I'm the exception."

Morgan sighed. "If this is about me knowing all about your oogly boogly supernatural stuff, you have nothing to worry about. That night was so scary. That Master lady... I don't even like to think about it. So, your secret is safe with me."

Buffy nodded at Morgan's earnest expression. "Well, that works out great. You don't tell anyone I'm the slayer, and I won't tell anyone you're a moron," she shrugged chipperly and pushed past the Cheerio, storming off in the other direction, leaving the two girls gaping after her.

"What is up with her?" asked Morgan.

xxx

"Principal Figgins, you can't do this," pleaded Will, "We're barely surviving in the budget we have. Slashing our budget by ten percent and cutting our transportation funds is like cutting our legs off."

"Sacrifices must be made," said Principal Figgins, straightening a stack of paperwork on his desk as students bustled about just outside of his office.

"Studies show that the best way to bring in alumni donations is through a successful athletic department. Specifically, a winning football team."

Will looked over at the woman in the polyester chair beside him, barely fitting into the square seat with her husky, heavyset frame, her curled brown hair cropped and a layer of red lipstick slathered on her thin lips.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" asked Will, raising an eyebrow at the masculine woman.

"I'm Shannon Beiste. I'm the new football coach," she said, leaning over her seat and holding a hand out for Will to shake, "Spelled B.E.I.S.T.E. It's French."

"Coach Beiste will be replacing Ken Tanaka after last year's tragic loss," said Figgins as Will shook the woman's firm hand, "Will, don't look at this as a punishment. Look at it as an investment into your club's future. The more money the football team brings in, the more I can give back to you. Coach Beiste is fresh off of her fifth consecutive Missouri High football championship. We're very lucky to have her."

"What can I say? I like a challenge."

Will sighed and leaned back in his seat, defeated.

"I know you will come to understand," said Principal Figgins, "Thank you for your time."

Will and Coach Beiste rose from their seats and left the office, Will sulking in the hallway.

"No hard feelings," said Beiste, holding her meaty palm out again.

Will nodded and shook her hand once more. "I hope you understand my frustration," he said apologetically, "Glee club's budget just got cut ten percent."

Beiste chuckled heavily and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't see you in a place to be asking for more money, anyways. You never won anything out of the tri-state area. That's a steer with six teets and no oink."

"...Huh?"

"Forget about that stuff, Will. Everything will work out in the end. I know about the work you do. It's impressive."

Will raised his eyebrows, surprised, and smiled at the broad shouldered coach. "Well, thank you. I try to broaden my kids imagination when it comes to the arts to reach their full capabilities-"

"Not the glee club, Will. You guys didn't even make it to Regionals. I mean... Buffy Summers."

Will's mouth hung open mid sentence, caught off guard. "Buffy...? What do you know about Buffy?"

"Let's not get into that now, Will. I just know that the Master was defeated under your watch. Good job."

"What? But-"

"We're on the same team, Will," she patted him hard on the shoulder, "And I like the way you play."

She walked away through the sea of students leaving Will gobsmacked.

xxx

Rachel smiled widely and leaned over the table at Breadstix, the plastic red and white tablecloth brushing against her elbows.

"Tell us about yourself, Sam," she smiled, resting her chin on one hand.

Sam Evans blinked across the table at the glee club co-captains. He'd never received this level of scrutiny from any other extra-curricular activity, but then again, he had only ever tried football. He wondered if the arts was always this hospitable - bringing their potential members to Italian restaurants with cheesy accordion and stale breadsticks.

"Well... My name is Sam. Obviously. I just moved to Lima last weekend."

Rachel nodded as the boy went on. She felt strangely proud of her boyfriend for discovering such a gem. Sam Evans was brightly blond with full lips and a questionable drawl to his accent. The only question now was, can he sing?

"Have you ever been apart of a show choir before, Sam?" asked Rachel, clasping her hands together.

"No."

"No? Alright. What kind of music are you interested in?"

"Um, I don't know... Anything acoustic. I play guitar."

"Guitar? Wow," Rachel said enthusiastically, sitting back in her seat and nodding at Sam, "You do realize that instruments aren't played in actual competitions."

Sam gulped. "Uh, well-"

"Rachel, chill," smirked Finn, stuffing a forkful of creamy spaghetti into his mouth, "This isn't a job interview."

"I know that," Rachel said, her smile wavering slightly, "I just want to make sure that my glee club has the best it can get. Nationals are in New York this year so I'm determined to win."

"Well, that's cool..." Sam said, staring into his ravioli.

"Have you made any friends yet?" asked Rachel, folding her napkin symmetrically.

"Not really... I joined the football team, but everyone's kind of hostile. I guess it's because I'm the new guy."

"Dudes in Lima are pretty reserved," said Finn, "They think being friendly makes them seem weak or something."

"You're not like that, are you, Finn?" asked Rachel.

"'Course not, babe."

Outside, Buffy could almost hear the sound of the jazz band through the windows of Breadstix as she approached, her dark purple dress cut a little short and her leather jacket draped over her shoulders. At least one of her McKinley friends would be out tonight, and Breadstix was the only place for them to go in this boring town. The dance floor would be half full of elderly couples swaying to the band's instrumental rendition of That's Amore, but she didn't care how uncool the place was. She needed somewhere to go to escape from sitting at home alone with her thoughts.

She smirked to herself as the figure by the door caught her eye, and she sauntered over to Santana.

"Hi," she said, looking the Latina up and down.

"Hi."

"So... Is there danger at Breadstix? Should I beware?" Buffy asked, sarcastically feigning exhaustion.

"Did I do something to make angry or do you have a royal tude from being daddy's girl all summer?" asked Santana, dropping a hip.

Buffy shrugged, grinning. "Well, I don't know where you're getting that. I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.

Santana smirked. "What are you so afraid of, slayer? Are you all of a sudden concerned that befriending a vamp does away with your squeaky clean moral code?"

"Could you contemplate getting over yourself for a second?" Buffy scoffed, "I wouldn't exactly call us friends. Maybe last year I tried to get your attention, but I don't care anymore. I've moved on. To the living."

Buffy brushed past Santana and walked into Breadstix, holding her head high. Despite looking like a sore thumb compared to the Breadstix patrons, Buffy felt wired. She spotted the heads of Finn and Rachel, and licked her lips with glee when she spotted someone else they were sharing their table with. Tall, cute and unnaturally blond. Whoever he was, she wanted to have fun with him.

"What's up guys?" she smirked playfully as she approached their table, and she savoured the look of curious surprise on the blond boy's face when he looked up at her.

"Buffy, we weren't expecting you," said Rachel.

"Just thought I'd drop by and see what's happening," Buffy replied, keeping her eyes locked with the boy's, "Want to introduce me to your friend?"

"Buffy, this is Sam Evans. He's on the football team. Sam, this is Buffy. She's... Rachel's friend."

"Nice to meet you," Sam nodded cordially, blushing.

Buffy smirked as the band began to play a slow version of Sway. "Do you want to dance?"

Sam looked surprised and yet pleased, as Rachel's eyes fluttured between the two of them.

"Uh, we were actually discussing-"

"It can wait," Buffy waved a hand to Rachel.

"Sure," Sam said, inching out of the booth.

As he stood, he held an arm out for Buffy to take, and walked her to the dance floor. She was surprised by his chivalry. Rachel always boasted about how Finn was a gentleman because he held her bag, but Buffy figured he was just whipped. Sam Evans was the epitome of respectful as he held one of her hands and place his other high on her waist.

As they danced, she moved in closer, sliding his hand down low on her hip, and squeezing his waist playfully, but the boy was rigid, and his hands only moved back up. Buffy sighed halfway through the song. This dance wasn't doing anything for her.

"This isn't going to work," she mumbled and dropped her hands from Sam, backing away.

She sped off and walked out, leaving him on the dance floor, his arms still held out like she was supposed to be there, stunned and embarrassed, staring after her as she stormed out the door.

"What was that?" asked a voice behind her as she walked down the street.

She turned around, groaning internally, because she knew that soft, nasally voice. She turned to see Quinn Fabray, frowning sullenly in a blue eyelet day dress, looking like the virgin queen she wasn't.

"What do you want?" Buffy smirked, rolling her eyes.

Quinn chuckled humorlessly. "You're really campaigning for bitch of the year, aren't you?"

"As defending champ, you nervous?"

"I can hold my own," she sighed and stepped closer, "We've never really been close, which is nice because I don't like you that much, but you have on occasion saved the world, so I'm gonna do you a favor."

"And this great favor is?"

"I'm gonna give you some advice. Get over it."

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever is causing the Joan Collins tude, deal with it. I went through more than you know last year and you're still coming off as the tortured bitch."

"You got knocked up. You're not mother nature. I _died_."

Quinn pursed her lips and nodded. "Embrace the pain and get over it because pretty soon you're not even going to have the loser friends you've got now."

"I think it's about time you start minding your own business," said Buffy.

"It's long past."

Quinn sighed as Buffy walked away.

"Let it go, Q."

She shook as Santana emerged from the shadows, hands on hips. "Jesus, Santana," Quinn sighed.

Santana watched wordlessly as Buffy's dark figure disappeared into the night. "You can't help her."

"I don't care."

"Obviously, you do."

"I don't, I just... Buffy turns into an emo and stops being friends with Rachel-"

"So it's Berry you care about?"

"No! But if Buffy leaves, where does that leave glee club?"

Santana nodded, smirking. "I'm sure that's what's keeping you up at night."

Quinn frowned bitterly. "You have no idea what's keeping me up at night."

Santana looked at her crestfallen friend. This past summer, Quinn had roamed the house like a ghost of herself. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I know you miss her."

Quinn looked at the ground, shaking her head. "The missing her would be bearable, if only..."

"What?"

"I don't know. Nothing... Can we go home?"

"Sure. Brittany's going to meet us with her box set of Friends and a pint of coffee ice cream. How does that sound?"

"Like Heaven," Quinn sighed, walking away with her best friend arm in arm.


	24. The Trap

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

Buffy came back to Lima with a major attitude.

**Quinn: Whatever is causing the Joan Collins tude, deal with it. I went through more than you know last year and you're still coming off as the tortured bitch.**

**Buffy: You got knocked up. _I died_."**

But with a new year comes a new blondie.

**Finn: Buffy, this is Sam Evans. He's on the football team. Sam, this is Buffy. She's... Rachel's friend.**

**Sam: Nice to meet you.**

And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

"Going somewhere?"

Quinn turned from the bathroom mirror, her heart fluttering rapidly.

"Santana!" she hissed, frightened, and clutched her chest as a small pot of Mac powder blush slipped off of the edge of the sink and clattered on the white marble bathroom tiles, sending a shock of warm pink powder across the floor.

"Well?"

"School! I'm going to school."

Santana eyed the mess, smiling subtly. "You're gonna have to clean that, you know," she smirked, in a blue dress that stopped high on her slender, olive thigh, "No maid in this house. I'm guessing my parents gave Mai Ling the boot when they skipped town."

Quinn sighed, and smoothed down her eyelet skirt. For the first time in weeks, she let her hair down, held back with a headband. She stared at herself nervously in the mirror, shuddering at the absence of Santana's reflection.

"I miss having a maid."

"Hash tag, spoiled white girl problems," Santana smirked, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed around her abdomen.

"You were the same. I know you always brag about coming from the wrong side of town, but you were just as privileged as me," said Quinn, not smiling and still staring at her own reflection, examining her eyeliner absentmindedly, "And maybe it's superficial, but I do miss it. Having parents who will drive me around town and buy me things."

The two of them sighed collectively. It was the closest girls like them had to affection.

"How's Brittany?" Santana broke the silence.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" Quinn asked coyly, bending down to brush up the bulk of her spilled make up on the cold tiles.

"What are you talking about? I just saw her last night," shrugged Santana.

"Yeah, I know, I was there. The only time you ever see her is with me there, like some sort of chaperone. I used to be the third wheel. Don't you ever want to be alone with her?"

Santana scoffed. "It's not that simple, Q."

"Isn't it?" asked Quinn, raising her head to look into the Latina's maroon eyes, "You can't just abandon her like this."

"I'm not... abandoning her."

"Yes, you are, and it's hurting her, I can tell. She puts on a smile everyday because she has to. Because she's Brittany. She's sunshine and unicorns... But she's missing you, Santana. You were her best friend. You were more than that."

"I don't want to talk about this right now," Santana snapped, raising her hand and wrinkling her nose, "I'm trying to keep the both of us safe. I attacked her last time, and I swore I'd never hurt her again."

"Have you ever considered you're hurting her anyways?"

"Have you ever considered that it's none of your business? Jesus, Q, since when were you Dr. Phil, anyway? You forget that you're no longer the Marsha Brady of the tri-state area."

Quinn shook her head, dumping a handful of blush in the trash can by the porcelain sink. "I haven't forgotten," she said quietly.

"Quinn, come on, let's forget about all this heavy stuff. Come out with me tonight. I'll bring you to a demon bar, we'll get ourselves some tequila shots, and forget all our worries for one night. What do you say?"

Quinn smiled appreciatively at her friend and shrugged. "It's probably not the best idea for a human to go to a demon bar."

"No, they'll love you. We can impress them with a story of how you blinded and nearly killed a girl."

"Santana, that's not something I'm proud of," said Quinn, suppressing a smile, "Besides, I don't think I should... I'm trying to start over. No drinking, no boys. I just want to get my grades back up, get back on the Cheerios, help the glee club make it to Nationals without someone strangling Rachel and storing her head in their basement as a trophy."

"When will you stop trying to be someone you're not?" Santana frowned, folding her arms.

Quinn blinked. "I'm not. This is who I am. I'm just trying to get back to that."

"Quinn..." Santana raised a skeptical eyebrow, "We all know you are not that girl. The perfect, preppy student with the school spirit and the ambition to be a pharmaceutical rep or something? She doesn't exist."

"Real estate agent," Quinn corrected, "And she could exist. I could get her back. I could be what I used to be."

"Yeah," Santana nodded, rolling her perfectly round eyes, "But you were never that. You're not a good girl, Quinn. Not a cheerleader, either. And do you really think that insipid bitch Morgan Ru is going to let you back on the team? Do you think the squad is going to vote you cheer captain this year after you ran your dictatorship into the ground and became Juno 2.0?"

Quinn bristled and stared at her white Keds.

"I won't know until I try," she said, and winced as Santana snorted humorously, "Just because you can never be happy, doesn't mean I can't."

Santana stared at the blond, her eyes squinting and her lips turning in a stung frown. "Like you'll ever be happy," she retorted skeptically.

Quinn grimaced. "I have to go to school," she grumbled and walked out of the bathroom, pushing past Santana, their shoulders knocking together before she rushed from the house.

They were best friends, and yet they were each other's punching bags. Quinn wondered how long the two of them could live together before all Hell broke loose.

xxx

"She's possessed!" Rachel rapidly lifted her head to stare wide eyed at her friends, her fists clenched together on either side of her plastic chair.

"Can you use your indoor voice when talking about possession and stuff?" asked Finn, leaning in quietly, his eyes darting around the choir room as if the only people in there weren't just him, his emphatic girlfriend, Tina and Mike.

"You really think she's possessed?" asked Mike, his eyebrows pulled together with concern. Tina had spent the summer introducing him to the world of darkness and yet he still wasn't used to them talking about ghosts and demons like they were everyday concerns. "She always seemed a little off to me."

"You never knew her that well, though," shrugged Tina, "Minus the vampire slaying, she's a totally average teenage girl. And now she's so..."

"Not," Rachel finished Tina's sentence, nodding to herself, "I mean, you should have seen her at Breadstix last night. An elderly patron had a stroke on the dance floor in front of the jazz band just from the sight of her Santana-esque dress hem."

"You guys always assume it's the weirdness," Finn said, biting into a Twinkie he had kept lukewarm in his McKinley letterman jacket pocket.

"That's because it almost always _is _the weirdness," said Tina.

"Maybe she's just really into Sam?"

"Finn, Sam is a cutie, but Buffy's not the kind of girl to get hot and heavy with a guy she just met," Rachel shook her head.

"They weren't getting hot and heavy," Finn rolled his eyes, "It was just dancing."

"Sure, and if I danced with you like that you'd have to think of the mail man," Rachel frowned.

Tina and Mike shared a look of confusion as Finn became silent, but he shrug it off as Mr. Schuester entered the choir room with his briefcase and denim vest, and smiled at the quartet.

"You guys are here early," he noted.

"Mr. Schuester, thank God, we needed to speak to you," said Rachel, standing up and walking over to the piano, her eyes set on Mr. Schuester, determined and business-like.

"Um, about what?" he asked nervously as the other three followed suit.

"Buffy," said Rachel, "We think she's possessed."

"Possessed?" Mr. Schue raised an eyebrow.

Rachel nodded. "It's the only thing that makes sense. She hasn't been at all herself since she came back from LA this summer. Some hostile and promiscuous creature must have possessed her body while she was there."

"That doesn't narrow it down..."

"Well, maybe Tina can find something," Rachel turned around and gave Tina a hopeful smile, "You're the expert, right, Tina?"

Tina blushed and shrugged, uncomfortable. "I wouldn't say an expert... But, maybe when she killed the Master there's was some... mystical transference of bad energy."

"That's what it was!" exclaimed Rachel, "I mean, why else would she be acting like such a B. I. T. C. H?"

"Rachel, I think we're all a little too old to be spelling things out," Mr. Schuester said quietly.

"A bitca?" Finn asked, confused.

"Guys, maybe Buffy's problem isn't possession," said Mr. Schuester, "Maybe she just has... issues. And maybe she needs understanding friends to get her through a rough time. She went through a traumatic experience last year. She was, for at least a few minutes, technically, dead. She needs time to deal with that sort of thing. She's acting like she's invulnerable when in reality-"

"That is a very interesting point about trout, Mr. Schuester," said Mike.

Will raised an eyebrow, confused. "Trout?" he asked, before he caught a shock of pink in his peripheral vision, and turned to see Buffy walk in, in a loose pink t-shirt that hung over one shoulder, "Trout! Interesting fish... Hi. Buffy. Sleep well?"

"Like a rock," Buffy rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest and frowning sourly, "The Master's bones are gone."

"What?" asked Rachel.

"The Master. I went by his grave last night, and we have a vacancy."

"Oh my God," sighed Will.

"What would anyone want with the Master's bones?" asked Rachel.

"They're gonna bring him back," Buffy said with certainty, "And I seem to recall thinking he was history?"

"Buffy, I've never heard of a revivification spell being successful," Tina shook her head, hoping to calm the tense atmosphere.

"But you have heard of them?" asked Buffy, staring daggers at her Gothic schoolmate, "Thanks for the warning."

"Buffy, we did bury him in the-" started Rachel.

"Look this is slayer stuff, okay? Can we have a little less talk from the civilians?" asked Buffy, raising her hand to Rachel with frustration, who frowned as if deeply offended.

The bell sounded and filled the school and the sounds of feet rushing off to their next class.

"We'll continue this discussion at free period," said Mr. Schuester, nodding to his students as they all walked out, sulking bitterly.

xxx

"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Puck, leaning against the door of the gymnasium as everyone else rushed to class.

Quinn looked at him and blushed under his protective gaze. "You don't have to keep looking out for me like this. I'm not pregnant anymore. We can go our separate ways."

Puck looked at the checkered tiles of the floor and frowned. "Maybe I'm just used to trying to take care of you."

"You can't."

"Hence the trying," Puck raised an eyebrow, "It's cool, Fabray, everyone needs a friend."

"A friend is fine, Puck, but I don't need a bodyguard. I want to do this, and I don't want you waiting outside while I do," she sighed, shaking back her blond hair.

"Your hair looks really pretty," Puck said, taking her by surprise.

She touched her one tone sandy hair, and wished it was like this naturally. She couldn't even get it this perfectly natural looking color from a salon. The only thing that would do it were the incantations she knew by heart by now.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Listen, Quinn... We all went through some crazy stuff last year."

"Can we not do this right now?"

"No, listen to me," he pushed, easing off his lean against the wall and standing up straight in front of her, "We gave up Beth. It was the hardest thing either of us has ever had to do, but we did it, and it was the right thing, I know that now."

Quinn nodded, staring at the floor and trying to block out his words, because a future Cheerio didn't want her eyes to puff with tear stains.

"Last year was totally crazy. I blacked out from Jack Daniels like once a month, and everyone on the night of Regionals was super high or something because I didn't understand a word of what they were saying."

Quinn looked up and smiled at his obliviousness. "Your point?"

"My point is, last year was a mess and I totally get that you want this year to be perfect. But maybe being little miss prissy cheerleader all over again isn't the way to go."

Quinn shook her head. "Everyone needs to let me make my own decisions."

Puck nodded. "I just hope you're makin' the right one," he said before sauntering past her and walking away.

Quinn brushed her hair back once more and took deep breaths as she opened the gymnasium doors. She was surprised to see that Morgan Ru left an unattended seat at the end of the room in her unexpected absence, with only her cohorts, Lea Hamilton and Dakota Bargis, sitting on either side of the empty chair, in their Cheerios uniforms with their prim ponytail bouncing high on top of their glossed heads.

"Where's Morgan?" asked Quinn.

"Absent. What are _you _doing here?" Lea raised an auburn eyebrow.

"Trying out for the squad," Quinn said confidently, clasping her hands behind her back and standing in front of the second in command Cheerios.

"No way. Get out, Fabray," smirked Dakota, sliding a slender brown leg over the other, "We don't need a Macy Bookout anywhere near our squad."

"I understand that you've had your confetti canons taken away?" said Quinn, raising an eyebrow, "Well, I bet there are quite a few church groups who would gladly give money to a squad who helped rehabilitate a girl who got pregnant and now speaks out for abstinence education while wearing a Cheerios uniform."

The sour look on their faces made Quinn feel a victory rise.

"It doesn't matter, Quinn," said Lea, twirling her pen in her French tipped fingers, "We're not recruiting anyone else anymore. We're just holding tryouts until the end of the week to watch people embarrass themselves."

"But... I heard that there's a spot open," Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"There is..." said Dakota, "But Morgan is making us save it for someone."

"For who?" demanded Quinn.

The Cheerios never saved spots for anyone, or else the waiting list would sky rocket. The only people who ever got first choice were people who had the potential to boost the Cheerios' popularity.

"Buffy Summers," Lea replied.

"Buffy...?" Quinn said under her breath.

"She rejected the offer, but Morgan wants to keep the spot open in case Summers' changes her mind. Apparently she's got the danger factor or something. I personally think she looks about as strong as Spongebob Squarepants, but the girl's got a rep," shrugged Dakota.

Quinn bristled. "Let me know if I can fill a spot," she told them, and walked away as the girls nodded.

xxx

"I think I've got something," said Tina, lifting a book in Mr. Schuester's office.

She, Mr. Schue, Mike, Finn, Rachel and the sullen Buffy had crowded into his small work space to eat lunch and examine the oogley boogley once more, but they had done little eating, their packed lunches sitting mainly untouched, except for Finn's half eaten ravioli salad.

"What is it?" Buffy asked urgently as Rachel sulked and leaned against the wall, the boys aimlessly sifting through books.

"It's in Latin, so bare with me, but... To revive the vampire, they need his bones... which they have... and the blood... I'm sorry, this is kind of hazy... of the closest person... someone connected to the vampire, I guess."

"That'd be me," Buffy said casually and with certainty, staring gravely at Mr. Schuester.

"Maybe," shrugged Mr. Schuester.

"We were close," Buffy smirked condescendingly, "We killed each other. It really promotes togetherness"

The group ducked and jumped at the sudden sound of glass shattering, and a rock flew through Mr. Schuester's back window, tossed over their heads and directly into Buffy's hands.

She turned it in her hands, unfazed, and examined the rock. It had a piece of blank paper tied to it with a silver Tiffany's necklace.

"This is Morgan's..." said Buffy, ripping out the piece of paper and turning it over to reveal the message, "Come to Breadstix before it opens for dinner or we make her a meal," she read from the paper.

"They're gonna cook her dinner?" asked Finn, gaining the baffled glances of the others, "Pretend I didn't say that."

"What do we do?" asked Rachel.

"I go to Breadstix and save the day," sighed Buffy.

"I don't like that," Tina said quietly.

"Neither do I," said Mr. Schuester.

"Yeah, well, you're not going," Buffy put her figurative foot down.

"What do you mean?" asked Rachel.

"I can't do it anymore. I can't look after all of you glee clubbers while I'm fighting."

Rachel frowned. "Well, what about the rest of the note?"

"The rest of the note...?"

"The part that says P.S. this is a trap!"

"You'll be playing straight into their hands," Tina shook her head.

"I can handle this," said Buffy.

"Stop saying that!" Rachel shouted, surprisingly even herself by the volume of her voice, "What is wrong with you?!"

"Morgan could be dead," Mike said warily.

Buffy shook her head and glared at the others. "This is my fight."

She walked away with her cross necklace swaying against her décolletage, leaving her friends frowning and stung.

xxx

Buffy strode through the dimly lit streets on her way to Breadstix, her leather jacket draped over her, idly feeling the coarse stake in her jacket pocket. A shiver rose over the back of her neck as she felt someone eyes behind her and their light footsteps neared.

"Stalking really isn't a big turn on for girls," said Buffy, stopping in her tracks and not bothering to look back.

"You need someone watching your back, Slayer," said Santana.

"Don't you mean my neck?"

"What is with your pissy attitude these days, Summers?" Santana snapped, pushing Buffy's shoulder, turning her around, "I'm so sick of getting the Kat Stratford treatment every time I talk to you."

"I don't trust you," frowned Buffy, "You're a vampire."

Santana winced.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that an offensive term? Should I say Undead American?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

"I don't know what I ever did to make you hate me, but you have to trust someone, sometime. No one can do this alone, Slayer. You're not as strong as you think you are."

"You think you can take me?" Buffy scoffed.

"What?"

"Come on, you must have thought about it. What would ever happen if it came to a fight, you vampire, me the slayer? I mean, you must have wondered. Why don't we find out?"

Santana grimaced. "I'm not going to fight you."

"Come on," laughed Buffy, "Kick my ass."

Santana bristled. "You're acting psycho, Summers."

Buffy frowned. "I have somewhere to be... Stay out of my way."

It was the lull between lunch and dinner when Breadstix was uninhabited, only the dim lights of the bar on. The door swung open after Buffy's heavy push. Not much trouble was expected in a town like Lima, but Buffy could smell it on her heel. It was too quiet, but she gritted her teeth in the face of danger and peered around the rows of red checkered booths, and her skin crawled at the sight of a slight girl crouched in the corner, her head hidden by a mess of stringy black hair and her shoulders heaving in time with the sound of quiet sobs.

"That's not Morgan," she said, addressing the presence she felt watching her from behind. Santana just couldn't take no for an answer.

The girls squinted at the figure hunched in the corner as her light sobs turned into a mischievous chuckle. The vampire turned around, her lips slathered red with lipstick. Hopefully.

"Morgan couldn't make it," she smiled sinisterly, her head cocked and her face wrinkled demonically.

"Where is she?" asked Buffy.

"Not supposed to tell," teased the vamp.

"I don't like this," said Santana, frowning sourly.

"Don't like what?" Buffy asked, curious, as she turned to face her.

"There's the bait," shrugged Santana, "Where's the hook?"

Buffy threw the vampire over her shoulder as she attempted the pounce her and pinned the toothy creature on the ground under her foot.

"You're right," said Buffy, blowing a strand of sandy hair out of her face, "Why would they send just one?"

Buffy lifted the vamp off the ground and tossed her into Santana's arms.

"Watch her," Buffy ordered, "Don't kill her unless you have to."

"Buffy, what's going on?"

"I'll be back."

xxx

The school was still, empty and eerily peaceful, but the disturbance in the choir room was clear. Chairs were knocked out of place and a bookcase had fallen to the floor, sending books and loose papers sprawled over the surfaces of the dark room.

"What happened?" Buffy asked pleadingly, lifting Mike off of the floor, his lip busted and bleeding.

"Vampires," he sighed bitterly, "The ones you could handle yourself."

Buffy stomach sank with guilt and panic, as Finn and Rachel rose from the floor, Finn lifting her with a gentle hand around her waist.

"Where are the others?" Buffy asked urgently, the normal fixtures of the choir room, Tina and Mr. Schuester, nowhere to be found.

"I don't know. And I don't know what your problem is, but I officially don't care. If you'd worked with us for five seconds, you could have stopped this," Finn said bitterly, his eye brown and slowly bruising.

"We have to think," Buffy breathed deeply, "Where could they have taken them?"

"If they hurt Tina, I'll kill you," Mike said hoarsely.

Buffy breathed heavily, and sighed, looking at the three pairs of hateful eyes around her. "Why did they take them and not you?"

"Tina said..." Rachel attempted to speak, her throat sore, "She said they needed people who were close to the Master - physically close."

"The ones who were with the Master when she died," sighed Buffy.

"Tina, Mr. Schuester, Morgan..." said Rachel, clutching her arm in pain.

"They've got the whole set by now," frowned Mike.

"We need to find out where," said Buffy.

"How?" asked Finn.

xxx

The red-lipped vamp hit the ground with a thud.

"One more time," Buffy threatened, looking down at the trashy demon, "Where are they?"

Finn, Rachel and Mike watched from a distance, leaning against a Breadstix booth as Santana looked on closely behind Buffy, her hands on her hips with satisfaction.

"It's too late," laughed the vamp, her skirt hitching up her ghostly pale thighs, "Your friends are dead."

"Tell me where they are," Buffy demanded, pulling the vamp up by the lapel of her outdated leather jacket.

"What are you gonna do? Kill me?" the vamp chuckled, limp in Buffy's arms.

"As a matter of fact..." smiled Buffy.

She threw the vamp onto a table with a loud slam, the vamp groaning and arching her injured back.

"Yes," Buffy nodded, removing her silver cross necklace from her neck, "But as I'm not going to kill you anytime soon, the question becomes how are we gonna pass the time 'til then."

She dropped the small silver cross into the vamps mouth and held it closed as smoke seeped out of the cracks of the vampire's lips and she jerked around wildly, her throat burning and her screams muffled, the chain of the necklace still wrapped securely around Buffy's fingers. She pulled the necklace out after a long few seconds and the vampire gasped for cold air.

"So, one more time?"

xxx

Buffy wrinkled her nose. Why did vampires always gather in places that were so wretchedly dark and damp? She squinted through the darkness of the abandoned factory, mainly relying on the ceremonious voice of a vampire nearby. She turned the corner and strained her ears to really listen to what this blood sucking douche had to say, with Santana, Finn, Rachel and Mike following close behind.

"We gather for her resurrection, for the dawn of this new era," she heard the head vampire say among his small pack as she looked down on a wide room of the factory, her eyes widening with terror.

Tina, Will and Morgan Ru were hung on hooks like pigs over the preserved, creamy white bones of the Master on a tabletop, the vampires watching with hungry interest.

"Buffy!" hissed Mike, "We have to do something _now_."

"You guys get the others out of here," said Buffy.

"We need you to distract the vampires," said Santana.

"Right," nodded Buffy, determined.

"What are you going to do?" asked Rachel, her eyebrows knitted together.

"I'm gonna kill them all. That oughta distract 'em."

Down below, the head vampire displayed a long, hooked blade to the Anointed One, the sallow faced child who led Buffy to her death on the night of the Master's rise.

"For the old one," the vamp nodded and the subtly smiling child, "For the dark."

"For the dark," the crowd of vamps repeated, energized, and as the head vampire kissed his precious blade, Buffy dusted one of his minions from behind, catching the alerted stares of the others.

The head vamp let out a yell and the others attacked on command, Buffy trying to beat them back with her sheer strength and the sharpened Mr. Pointy in her right hand, keeping them busy as the others snuck away, pulling at ropes and levers that would lower their unconscious, hanging friends.

"Stop them!" she heard the head vamp shout, but Buffy was too busy beating his minions back for them to be of any use. She relished the sound of them bursting in pieces of dust as she staked them, while Santana, Finn, Mike and Rachel freed the others and dragged them to a dark corner, out of the way of the deadly action.

Mr. Schuester's eyes fluttered open and he looked up into Santana's face.

"Where's Buffy?" he asked, hoarse.

"Working out her issues," she replied, her eyes watching the slayer beat back vampire after vampire, all on her own, thriving in the attack.

"Enough!" roared the head vampire, carrying a thick, metal mallet, "Your day is done, girl. I'll grind you into a sticky paste. And hear you beg, before I smash in your face."

"So, are you gonna kill me, or are we just making small talk?" shrugged Buffy.

The head vamp let out a yell and started on a run towards Buffy, swinging his mallet in the air. Unfazed, she tore a torch off of the damp walls and lit the vamp on fire, watching him burn, unimpressed. He turned to dust, leaving nothing but the mallet and a silent, abandoned factory of shivering teenagers, and their glee club teacher.

"It's over," sighed Finn.

"No, it's not," Rachel said quietly, shaking her head.

Buffy averted her gaze to the milky bones of the Master lying on a metal surface, fully intact and surprisingly small. She lifted the heavy mallet from the ground and swung it into the ribcage, rising it to inspect the smatter of white dust. She hit it again, and again, harder and faster just to watch the bones disintegrate, tears dripping down her face.

xxx

"I don't think I can face them," said Buffy.

She followed Mr. Schuester down the hall, bumping past her schoolmates. She wanted to plant her feet firmly on the linoleum and grab hold of his hand, keeping him and herself there for the rest of the school day.

"Of course you can," Mr. Schuester smiled, holding his satchel to his side.

"I can't! What am I supposed to say? Sorry I almost got your throats slit, what's the homework?"

"Punishing yourself is pointless."

"It's entirely pointy! I was a moron. I put my best friends in mortal danger on the second day of school."

"What are you going to do? Live in a cave for the rest of your life?"

"Does it have WiFi?"

Mr. Schuester chuckled as they stopped outside the choir room. "Buffy, you were wrong, I'll admit it, but it's not the worst mistake you'll ever make... That came out wrong."

"Points for effort," Buffy shrugged as the bell rang.

They walked into the choir room, Buffy looking at her friends in the front row docilely. Rachel noticed her first, the stubborn girl surprising Buffy was a stiff smile. The others looked over as Buffy took a seat near them, and they all smiled politely, an awkward moment drifting over them.

"Hi, Buffy," Rachel smiled.

"Hi," she nodded.

"We were just having a thrilling conversation about pizza toppings," said Mike.

"Sounds enriching," Buffy joked half-heartedly.

"Well, I was saying how I liked Hawaiian because there's ham and pineapple, and that's... cool," shrugged Finn.

"Very cool," Buffy nodded.

"I'm more of an anchovy girl," Tina smiled, her warm eyes set on Buffy.

"I'm getting hungry," laughed Mike, "Dim sum after school?"

"Mike, I'm getting kind of sick of dim sum," Tina groaned.

"Breadstix?" asked Finn.

"No, tonight is meat medley night and I am not sitting through the torture of having you smell like pork ribs for the next three days," Rachel rolled her eyes, "We should do something fun tonight."

"We could grind our enemies into talcum powder with a sledgehammer, but, gosh, we did that last night," shrugged Mike, gaining the laughter of the other four.

Buffy smiled, grateful. With the Master and all of the destruction she brought along with her gone and in the past, Buffy had a feeling that this was her year.


	25. The Grave

Previously, on The Other Hellmouth:

Santana and Quinn have been living together since they're parents kicked them out.

**Quinn: I miss having a maid.**

**Santana: Hash tag, spoiled white girl problems.**

****And now that summer is over, Buffy and the scoobies are back in business. What'll they do next?

**Mike: We could grind our enemies into talcum powder with a sledgehammer, but, gosh, we did that last night.**

****And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

Quinn Fabray stumbled out of the Lopez's guest room in a pair of pink Abercrombie sweats and a loose fitting t-shirt. Her naked toes wriggled on the smooth carpet of the second floor landing. It was barely eight o'clock at night, but the sun had already set and Quinn was ready for some ladies night R'n'R, featuring Renee Zellweger as Bridget Jones and a carton of frozen yogurt. She had a layer of fat around her stomach from her pregnancy last year and all the ice cream she'd gorged herself with lately wasn't helping. She clutched a small stack of Vanity Fair magazines under her arm and lifted her fist to knock on Santana's bedroom door, halting as she heard the girl inside hiss, "Shit!"

Quinn gave it little thought. The Latina was always swearing at every stubbed toe and spilled bottle of black Chanel nail polish, but Quinn raised her eyebrow as Santana groaned, "Ay, dios mio," from the other side of the white polished door.

"Santana? Are you okay?" Quinn raised her voice and knocked lightly at the door.

"Shit," Santana hissed again, "Quinn, get in here!"

Quinn pushed the door open and stuck her head in. Santana's bedroom always looked like it should belong to a vampire, with black walls, thick red curtains on her window that blocked out the sun and the thick, charcoal gray vanity table lined with Hollywood style light bulbs. The only things less Gothic and intimidating about her room were her various posters of Bob Marley, Amy Winehouse and Pulp Fiction taped to her walls, and of course the clothes upon clothes that cluttered the black carpet in messy heaps. Quinn set the stack of magazines down on Santana's dark bed covers and eyed her roommate, who was sneakily peeking out through a slit in her heavy curtains.

"Santana?"

"Fuck," Santana shook her head, absentmindedly, and beckoned Quinn to the window with a flippant hand gesture.

As she approached the bedroom window, Quinn was surprised to see that Santana's maroon eyes were stricken with panic.

"I can't believe it," she whispered shakily.

Quinn pulled the curtain just a fraction wider and peered in the same direction.

"I don't get it..."

From what the blond could tell, a busty woman with red lipstick slathered over her mouth was getting out of a car parked outside, swishing her head of long, black hair.

"_Tia_," Santana scowled.

"Tia?"

"Sofia! She's my tia. My aunt."

Quinn looked away from Santana and back at the woman outside, reaching for her gaudy, bulky red patent leather purse in the passenger seat.

"Why is she here?"

"I have no idea. She didn't call... I guess she doesn't know that my parents skipped town. But why would she visit anyways? I only ever see her at Christmas. She hates my mother."

Santana winced as her aunt Sofia started down the cobbled path to the front door.

"Go! Get rid of her!" she hissed, pushing at Quinn.

"What? Santana, what am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know, think fast! She can't know I'm a vampire, okay? She'll flip!"

She hurried Quinn out of her bedroom door and shut it behind her as the doorbell rang.

"Crap," grumbled Quinn, and stalked downstairs to open the door.

On the patio, Sofia Lopez hugged her purse to her side and frowned, her lips full and red. Quinn blinked at the woman. She looked alarmingly like Santana, only older and taller, with plentiful curves, lighter eyes and a wider nose.

"Can I help you?" Quinn asked innocently, her pink lips in a stiff smile.

"Ees Santana home?" asked Sofia, and Quinn was struck by her extremely thick Colombian accent, her red lips smacking together, every syllable emphasized.

"Uh... No. I'm afraid you have the wrong house," Quinn smiled.

"Ay, thees ees the house. I would reco'nize those tacky fake blue rocks anywhere," she added matter-of-factly, nodding to the blue decorative rocks that lined the patio.

"Oh, well, there must be a misunderstanding. The family who lived here moved out last year."

"Thees ees lies. Santana ees in there and she just no want to see her tia," Sofia said loudly.

"It's not a lie. I live here now, and there is no Santana. Goodbye," urged Quinn, her patience festering.

"Wait," said Sofia, "Jou're the girl from Santana's picture. Ay."

"What picture?"

"The only picture of my sobrina that tacky black and blue wearing perra ever gave to me. Her first cheerleading competition. I remember; there were three girls; my Santana and two rubias. One weeth dopey look on her face and one weeth snobby pout."

"I do _not _have a snobby pout!"

"Aha! Jou know where Santana ees and you tell me right now."

"Santana doesn't live here anymore! Get over it!"

"Don't tell me to get over eet, miss snobby face rubia perra, thinks she know everything. Mi sobrina told me what happened to Santana and she told me to find her here!"

"Callie told you what happened?"

Quinn jumped back an inch as Santana suddenly appeared behind her in the hallway.

"Ay, querido, I knew jou were here," Sofia stated cheerily, opening her arms and pushing past Quinn to embrace Santana, clasping her head in her bosom.

"Aunt Sofia, stop, you're suffocating me with your enormous chest," Santana scowled, and pushed her aunt away, "... Are those new?"

"Ay, new?" Sofia laughed, "Why would a woman with jour tia Sofia's back problemas geet some new tetas. Don' be seelly. Thee Lopez weemen are naturally top heavy. Eventually even jour breasts will sag down to tha floor."

"Thanks for that visual. Aunt Sofia... What did Callie tell you about me?"

"I make you sweet tea and we talk all about it, mija?"

Sofia Lopez wrapped her arm around her niece's shoulders and guided her into the kitchen while Quinn closed the door behind her. She slumped her shoulders and decided against following them in, not wanting to intrude. It looked like her ladies night was crashing and burning before it even started. She sighed and felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her sweat pants. She read over the text and raised an eyebrow. It wasn't something she wanted to concern herself with that night, but it was sure to make a buzz through the rest of Lima's local teenagers. Her thought was confirmed to be true as the same text came to her phone again and again from her classmates; from Kurt, Mercedes, Puck, the few Cheerios who still had a morsel of respect for her, and even one from Rachel Berry, who she acknowledged that she didn't treat as half as good as she should have.

At that point in time, Buffy Summers was experiencing the same flood of excited texts from her friends in glee club. She frowned at her phone, agitated, reading each text that more or less said the same thing.

New nightclub 4 teens called the Bronze on Robinson St.

Opens tonight. Meet me and Finn there at 9. I'm so excited XD

had been sent from her best friend, Rachel Berry.

Buffy wore a sour frown and shoved her phone back into the pocket of her leather jacket. Her small circle of friends rarely partook in new and exciting things outside of the world of the supernatural, but when they did, Buffy felt she was always too busy patrolling. The rumor was true - Ohio was boring. Frightfully, in fact. Even a cemetery supposedly rife with demonic activity was bare and bitingly chilly that night. Buffy had a good view of the plot, perched on top of a tombstone.

"Come on, Stefan, rise and shine. Some of us have a life," she sighed, twirling a stake between her fingers like a short, stout baton.

She checked the time on her dimly glowing digital watch. One minute felt like ten when she knew her friends were somewhere fun.

"You know what, Summers, you deserve a break," she sighed to herself.

She hopped off of the grave, her boots slightly sinking into the soft earth bellow her. Shoving her stake into a pocket, she strode towards the exit, only to find that along the way her foot caught nothing but air and she went falling into an open space in the ground for one heart-stopping moment. She caught her breath after thudding into an open grave.

"Ow," she murmured, clutching her head, "Gee, I wish people wouldn't leave open graves lying around like this."

She sat up in the bed of soft, white fabric, unhappy that another vampire had risen unexpectedly. She rubbed her head once more as she stood, and her lips curled into a confused frown as she added up the evidence around her. Standing, her eyes were just above the surface of the grave. She realized that usually vampires crawled out of the earth after they were laid to rest, leaving a messy, human-sized hole in the ground. However, this grave was dug out - wide, square and precise. She shook her head in confusion until she spotted the tracks made in the ground nearby; grass come loose and sprawled around with the soft dirt in one direction. She sighed, the dark realization dawning. Whoever was in that grave hadn't risen. She hopped out of the grave, her stomach churning uncomfortably as she spotted a strappy sandal covered in dirt marks on the ground. They had been dragged from it.

xxx

Quinn shut her locker door and sneakily peered at the Cheerios down the hall, chatting and giggling about whatever vapid boy band or television show they thought was 'in'. As much as she loathed them, she wanted to be them. She stood up straight and sucked in the gut she procured from her pregnancy, and walked towards them with every intention of ass kissing and pleading her way back into the squad. This whole fascination Morgan Ru apparently had with Buffy's 'danger factor' was sure to blow over sooner than later. And how could Morgan, Quinn's former peon, resist the temptation of assigning her to the base of the human pyramid? For Quinn, getting to wear that polyester uniform in front of her student body again would be worth the weight of the whole squad on her shoulders; literally.

Before she could weave her way through the students in the hall to get to the circle of Cheerios, the familiar face of Piper Saberhagen side stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

"Quinn, can I talk to you? About our... friendship?"

Quinn sighed and shook her head, unable to suppress a smile. Piper Saberhagen was known for her pathetic devotion to Quinn Fabray. At times, it was astounding. Quinn could understanding the hero worship when she was top dog at McKinley, with the Cheerios and the celibacy club under her belt, but Piper continued to emulate Quinn even when she got pregnant, joined the glee club and had her hair turned back to its natural brown.

"What is it, Piper?" Quinn smirked, rolling her eyes impatiently.

It wasn't a surprise to see that with the new year, Piper had dyed her hair blond, fashionably late after Quinn had dyed hers back, too. As well as that, she had cut it a little shorter and draped a black leather jacket over her shoulders, but Quinn didn't give that much thought, until Piper's next words.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to disband my loyalty."

Quinn paused, the ghost of her smile still stricken on her face. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I've always felt like more of a follower to you than a friend, which I didn't mind at all, because, I mean, hello, you're Quinn Fabray, you were an icon-"

"Were?"

"My point is, Quinn, style changes, and if there's one thing I've learned from you, it's that I have to jump on the hottest trend while it's still... hot."

"Piper, what are you saying?"

Piper shrugged in her leather jacket. "There's been all this talk of Buffy Summers being the new it girl. Morgan Ru totally thinks she's cool, and what Morgan Ru says-"

"I _made _Morgan Ru what she is. And that means by default, I'm the reason Buffy is popular all of a sudden."

"Either way, Quinn, I've moved on to greener pastures," shrugged Piper.

Quinn sighed, taking it all in for a moment. "Is it… something I did?"

"No, Quinn, you're great, really. It's not you, it's me. We can still be friends, if that's what you want."

Quinn shook her head and smiled bitterly. "She's not going to appreciate you."

"It doesn't matter. Besides, I always got the impression that you didn't like me," Piper shrugged, smiling chipperly.

"Piper, please, we can make this work!"

"I'm sorry, Quinn. It's over. I'm not a Fabrette anymore. I'm a Buffette."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard..." Quinn sighed as Piper walked away in her leather jacket and black Doc Martens.

Quinn slumped in her day dress and stalked off to the choir room for glee club's morning meeting. She took a seat and huffed. The one thing she had a left was that pathetic worshipper, and now she didn't even have that.

"Buffy!"

Buffy's eyes widened as she entered the choir room, all of a sudden faced with a girl almost identical to her.

"...Piper?"

The New Directions were lazily gathering in the choir room and taking their seats, but Piper Saberhagen, who was usually sitting behind Quinn Fabray in a pink eyelet day dress, was edging invasively close to Buffy, sporting a matching blond haircut and leather jacket.

"Good morning," she smiled cheerily, "Are you excited for glee club today? I heard Mr. Schuester has a new assignment."

Buffy brought her hand to her temple and shook her head. Her coffee had not kicked in yet and she was only used to this level of enthusiasm when it came from someone short and brunette. Headband optional.

"Oh, you must be tired, of course! Everyone was at the Bronze last night. I must have missed you. Here, I brought you this in anticipation of how tired you must be."

Buffy's hand dropped absentmindedly as Piper presented a can of Monster, an aspirin and a travel pack of heart burn medicine.

"Thanks, Piper, but I'll pass. I usually just let Mr. Schue's morning speeches wake me up," said Buffy.

"Of course," Piper nodded vehemently and flung the stuff back into her canvas bag.

Quinn's eyes followed the leather clad girls as they took their seats side by side. She couldn't help feeling angry at Piper's new found infatuation with the slayer. Even when she had the same level of admiration for Quinn, Piper had never shown it with so much dedication as to bring her hangover remedies in the mornings. Quinn had been emulated, but not waited on. She shook the thoughts out of her head as Mr. Schuester entered the room, vest and briefcase on his person, and went straight to his black marker like he did on most days, this time emblazoning the marker board with the words, 'Christopher Cross', a name unfamiliar to most of the glee club.

"Alright, who can tell me who Christopher Cross is?" Mr. Schuester asked enthusiastically, returning the marker to its cap.

"He discovered America," Brittany said with confidence at Quinn's side.

"Close," shrugged Mr. Schuester, "He did write a chart topper, 'Sailing'."

"I have a bad feeling about this," groaned Kurt.

"Never heard of him, don't want to hear about him," muttered Tina.

"Now, some people think of the term 'Easy Listening' as a bad thing, but I'm going to let this music speak for itself," continued Mr. Schue, "You guys love Lady Gaga and the Rolling Stones, and you guys are really good about putting it all out there, but really good music can also be controlled and restrained. It doesn't have to attack an audience. You can let them come to you."

New Directions collectively raised their eyebrows skeptically as Mr. Schuester handed out lyric sheets of easy listening music. Finn shook his head dubiously as he scanned over the words.

"How can you get caught between the moon and New York City? They're like a hundred miles apart," he chuckled.

"Mr. Schue, if I may," Kurt raised his hand, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's not that we don't love the idea of spending a week on this silky smooth adult contemporary. It's just that as teens, this isn't the easiest music for us to relate to. However, there is a burgeoning Facebook campaign that swelled over five members, that demands that this week at the new term's assembly before the big homecoming game, we, McKinley High school glee club perform, a number by, wait for it," he paused for effect, glancing at his friends, "Miss Britney Spears."

Some of the girls gasped in excitement. Even Buffy nodded her head approvingly, flashing back to her glory days as Fiesta Queen when she rocked the dance floor to Break The Ice. Mr. Schuester shook his head amongst the murmuring of excitement through the glee club.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, no. I don't think she's a very good role model."

"But Mr. Schue, we kind of grew up with her," shrugged Rachel.

"She's literally why I wanted to become a performer," Tina smiled shyly.

"I don't want to do Britney," Brittany sighed, staring mournfully at the floor.

"Why no Britney, Brittany?" asked Kurt.

"Because my name is also Britney Spears."

Brittany paused shyly as she attracted the stares of everyone in the room, waiting for an explanation.

"...What?" asked Mr. Schue.

"What the hell is she talking about?" asked Mercedes, rolling her eyes at the nonsense.

"My middle name is Susan, my last name is Pierce, that makes me Brittany S. Pierce. Brittany Spierce," she explained knowingly, "I lived my entire life in Britney Spears's shadow. I will never be as talented or as famous. I hope you'll all respect that I want glee club to remain a place where I, Britney S. Pierce, can escape the torment of Britney Spears."

"Well... There you have it, guys. It's been decided. No Britney. Sorry," Mr. Schuester shrugged smugly.

"Thanks, Brit. Thanks a lot," Kurt quipped sarcastically.

"Leave Brittany alone," growled Quinn.

"Thank you for understanding," Brittany said under her breath, "It's been a hard road."

"Um, can we move on?" asked Rachel.

"Let's talk about Michael Bolton," smiled Mr. Schuester.

It felt like a lifetime passed as Buffy let Mr. Schuester drone on about easy listening melodies. He was cute, but boy could he be dull. He knew as much about boring music as Tina knew about Hot Topic. Her heart lifted as the bell rang, and she would finally have a chance to talk to him about her discoveries last night.

"What's your next class?" asked Piper before she smiled and shook her head, "Never mind, I'll just get a copy of your timetable from reception."

"Right..." murmured Buffy as everyone stood and gathered their bags and belongings.

"Buffy, where were you last night?" asked Rachel, approaching with a chipper smile.

"Uh, _baking_," said Buffy, nervously eyeing Piper.

"Right," said Rachel, giving Buffy a wink that wasn't conspicuous at all, "Well, it's too bad. The Bronze is really great. They let everyone in. It's nice. They have a live band and everything. Not like the jazz band at Breadstix. The Bronze's bands play alternative music. It's very 90s rock."

"Retro," smiled Buffy, "Hey, Piper, I'll catch up with you later. Some of us guys need to discuss a new... recipe."

Piper glanced at Rachel and back at Buffy, but nodded. "I'll see you in Math."

"Great," sighed Buffy as Piper departed and Tina approached as everyone else seemed to wander out of the choir room.

"Did something happen when you were patrolling last night?" asked Tina, who overheard the baking analogy.

"More or less. There's _something,_" she shrugged.

"Are you okay, girls?" asked Mr. Schuester, setting his briefcase on the surface of Brad's piano.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you. I went patrolling last night."

"And there was something out of the ordinary?"

"Well, I found an empty grave."

"Another vampire?"

"No. No, this one was dug up and the body was taken out."

The others blinked. "Grave robbing? That's new. Interesting," said Tina.

"I know you meant to say gross and disturbing," said Buffy.

"Of course..."

"Why would someone dig up graves?" asked Rachel, creeped out.

"I could collect some theories, but it would help if we knew who the body belonged to," said Tina.

"Meredith Todd. Ring a bell?" asked Buffy.

The others shook their heads.

"She died recently," said Buffy, "She was our age."

"I'll look her up later," said Tina.

"Thanks," said Buffy, "I want to end whatever this is as soon as possible."

xxx

Santana hesitated at the fridge, edging into the open door, and peering over it to look at Sofia, busy in the kitchen. Even when her parents had inhabited the house a year ago, the kitchen had never been overwhelmed by the smells of cooking. The only times she would come home to the smell of something nutritious and delicious was when her abuela visited, and even that was rare.

"Ees okay to drink tha blood, Santana. I pretend ees cranberry juice," her tia waved from over the stove, frying up a stack of omelettes.

"It's kind of hard to pretend it's cranberry juice, tia," said Santana, taking a seat at the island counter as her aunt served colorful omelettes on yellow plates, "...The smell."

Sofia shrugged. "I cover up weeth Fabreeze."

"Listen, tia, can I talk to you?" asked Santana.

"Jou can talk to me anytime," said Sofia, taking a seat on the other side of the counter, digging in to a plate of peppery omelette.

"Why did you come here?"

Sofia paused with a forkful hovering close to her mouth. "I explain jesterday. I cannot leave my sobrinas to fend for themselves. You just a nino."

"I-I know, it's just... I still don't understand why you're so okay with all of this - with me being a vampire."

"Santana," Sofia sighed, shaking her head, "If the diablo had truly taken over, jour parents would not have let you go."

"They didn't exactly let me go," Santana grumbled, "They kicked me out."

"Even so, mija, sus padres must have known you were not a danger, or jour heartless mother would have staked you with her bare hands."

Santana blinked. "Why do you hate my mother so much?"

Sofia wrinkled her nose. "She take one bite of my bonuelo and say she no like it," she scoffed, "Nobody don' like Sofia Lopez' bonuelos! EES SABROSO!"

Santana chuckled at her aunt's Spanish outburst, reminded of herself. "So that's what it's about? Pastries?"

Sofia shook her head. "Mija, if only you knew."

"Knew what, tia?"

Sofia shook her head, and set her plate of omelettes aside, her appetite suddenly subdued. "Mija, ees nothing. Jour mother jus'... She never had the love for you that I wanted her to have. Tha real mother's love."

Santana blinked at the counter surface. When she was a little girl, she dreamed that her 'real' mother was somewhere else, far away, missing her. She and Brittany would even talk about what her real mother might look like. Tall and gorgeous. All of those daydreams were because Santana knew, deep down, that her own mother didn't really love her. It was just startling to hear someone else confirm it.

"Where did they go?"

"They move to another state. Wear their clothes of mourning as if jour dead. Jour mother's side of la familia had a ceremony and everything," Sofia revealed bitterly, looking as if she wanted to spit, "Jour abuela even cried."

Santana winced. She couldn't imagine her tough as nails grandmother crying over her psuedo-death. "What about you?"

"I don' buy, Santana. They tell me my Santana dies after the bite of the diablo and I tell them they are wrong. That I can feel you in the air, like rain en una tormenta. And then Callie tell me what jou told her, and I say, 'I knew it!'."

To Sofia's surprise, Santana was blinking tears away. Tears that accompanied a tired smile.

"Where did you get all this faith in me, Sofia?"

Sofia shook her head and without warning, reached over the counter and clasped Santana's head in between her hands, planting a kiss on her forehead, leaving a smudge of red lipstick.

"Te quiero, mija."

xxx

"Show me the goods."

Buffy whipped around her chair, turning to Tina. She'd sent Piper off on a wild goose chase for a can of Squirt, and now was the only time her friends could gather in the choir room to discuss the occult before her lookalike came back.

"Buffy, you're going to have to ditch her. She's making it very hard for us to solve special cases," Rachel said sternly.

"Rachel's right," said Mr. Schuester, approaching them.

"I'll worry about that later. For now, we're talking about Meredith Todd," Buffy reminded them, "Tina?"

"Right," said Tina, removing a newspaper article from her canvas bag, "Meredith Todd died in a car accident last week. It says that she and two other girls in the car were killed instantly. On their way to a pep rally."

"That means she wasn't killed by vampires," said Buffy, "Someone did dig up her corpse."

"Gross," sneered Rachel.

"We've got a body snatcher," said Tina, "It could be demons who eat the flesh of the dead. Or, a voodoo practitioner."

"You mean... they're making a zombie?" asked Rachel, biting her bottom lip and turning pale.

"Zombies, more likely," sighed Mr. Schuester.

"So we should see if the other girls in the accident are AWOL, too," shrugged Buffy, "We can figure out what this creep has in mind if we know whether or not he's dealing in volume."

"We're digging graves tonight?" stammered Rachel.

"Don't tell me you've gone soft on me over the summer," smirked Buffy.

"N-No. It's... a field trip," Rachel smiled, "We'll meet at the Lima cemetery at nine. I'll pack some food. Who else likes those little powdered donuts?"


	26. The Dentist

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

Quinn and Puck had a baby last year, and gave it up for adoption. Her parents kicked her out and now her and Santana live together, alone. That is, until Santana's Tia Sofia showed up.

**Santana: Sofia! She's my tia. My aunt.**

Buffy found an open grave and nobody knows who took the body.

**Tina: It could be demons who eat the flesh of the dead. Or, a voodoo practitioner.**

Gross. Will asked Emma out on a date, but she's finally unavailable.

**Emma: I was just having a regular check-up with my dentist, and he must have been charmed with my impeccable oral hygiene, because he asked me on a date.**

****You snooze, you lose. That's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

Quinn slung her backpack in the foyer and pulled her earbuds out of her ears - the sound of a Fleetwood Mac song disappearing into silence. Quinn raised an arched, blonde eyebrow. Usually the Lopez house was horribly silent during the day as Santana slept peacefully in her dark room, but today all that filled her ears was movement in the kitchen – clinking glasses and plates - and the muffled sound of the television. She felt the welcoming warmth on the surface of her pale skin. The Lopez house felt so different ever since the arrival of Santana's exuberant aunt Sofia.

Quinn curiously poked her head around the open wooden arch that led to the modern kitchen and smiled warmly to herself at the sight of Sofia whipping up three servings of steaming, colorful chicken korma, the door to the wide living room open wide and the blaring sound of a telenovela floating through.

"Queen!" Sofia exclaimed happily when she spotted the nervous blonde standing in the doorway.

"Hello," Quinn said shyly.

Since Sofia had suddenly moved in, Quinn had kept her respectful distance. It seemed like Santana was finally bonding with an affectionate family member, and Quinn didn't want to get in the way.

"Are jou hongry?" Sofia asked in her thick Colombian accent.

"Not really," Quinn shrugged, "I think I'll just go upstairs and get started on homework."

"Nonsense," the woman shook her head, her dark, long hair swishing against her shoulders, "Jou come help me cook and we serve da dinner when Santana wakes up."

Quinn hesitated briefly before walking into the kitchen with her arms tight on her side, and stood idle by the island counter, anxiously, when Sofia handed her and handful of garlic cloves.

"Peel these, por favor."

Quinn immediately began to scrape off the papery skin with her nails and peel it off of each moist clove.

"Santana explained to me your situation," Sofia said quietly as she chopped uncooked chicken into small pieces.

"Oh," was all Quinn could say, her leafy green eyes glued to the counter-top.

"Queen?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like liveen here?"

Quinn though about it for a long moment; not only debating the honest answer, but debating whether that was the answer to offer Sofia.

"I'm thankful to have a place to stay," Quinn said honestly, her shoulders stiff and reserved.

"That was no my question."

Quinn sighed, and shook her head. Articulating her nonsensical musings could be quite a chore that she usually wanted to avoid at all costs, but something about Sofia's soothing, lyrical voice and earnest eyes made Quinn want to bare her soul.

"I thought being away from my parents would mean I could finally be who I really was, but as it turns out, I don't know who that is. While I like living here... it doesn't really feel like I'm _living _here."

"I don' understand," said Sofia, cocking her head to the side, her hands hovering over the slippery chicken.

Quinn chuckled under her breath. "Yeah, I don't make a lot of sense," she sighed wearily, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've never really felt like I've belonged. I was hoping that this was the place, but it's not."

Sofia looked at Quinn for a long moment as Quinn stared into space, stunned by her own realization. Quinn felt liberated for facing the truth, and altogether tragic for seeing what a sad truth it was.

"I see," Sofia finally said.

Quinn raised an eyebrow and looked at the woman who resembled her best friend all too closely. "Can I tell you something? A secret?"

"Of course you can, Queen."

"Did Santana tell you about my baby?"

Sofia nodded, looking sympathetic.

"Well," Quinn sighed, "Ever since Puck and I left her, I've felt like there's something missing. And I know that's to be expected, but there's something different. Every day... Every second, I miss her, because I can... _feel _her."

Sofia's eyes fell to the counter, slowly welling up behind her heavily painted lashes. "I know what jou mean," she sighed.

"No, I mean..." Quinn's shoulders drooped, frustrated with her own tied tongue, "I don't know how to explain it. Every once in a while, I'll get this _surge_. Like just for one moment I can feel what she's feeling. Like there is this connection and I know if she's happy or sad or safe or scared... I sound insane."

"Not at all. I know exactly what jou mean."

Quinn shook her head, close to tears. "You don't have to humor me."

"I not. I know how you feel. Like jour hearts are connected by amor, and jou feel her like thunder in jour soul."

Quinn smiled. "Yeah."

"Queen, can I tell you something? ... A secret?"

"Of course."

"You cannot tell Santana."

"Okay."

"When I was jour age, I had to give my daughter away."

Quinn's eyes widened and she looked at the woman's tender, honest face. "... I had no idea."

Sofia nodded and leaned forward over the counter, her voice turning to a whisper.

"I didn't want to give my baby girl to strangers, so I gave her to mi hermano mayor and his esposa."

"...What?"

"My older brother and his wife."

Quinn looked back down at the counter, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Wait..."

"He had a nice job, nice casa... He could support my mija better than I could. The problem was, he and his wife could never love my daughter like I love her."

"Sofia-"

"They try to love her, but they don'. They raise my mija like they're doing her a favor, but that's no way to raise a child. You don' make a child think they have to earn your love."

Quinn stared at the woman, the sound her heartbeat loud in her ears. "You're Santana's mother."

xxx

"This was not the night I had planned," grunted Finn.

He sank his heavy shovel into the rich soil and kicked it in hard, digging out a small mound of dirt and pebbles and tossing it aside in a pile on the grass. Beside him, Mr. Schuester repeated the steps, and the boys dug in unison, beads of sweat dripping down their foreheads, as Buffy, Rachel and Tina sat on the soft cemetery grass with their backs rested against a gravestone.

"Finn and I are still trying to convince Sam Evans to join glee club," Rachel murmured to her friends.

"Is he good?" Tina asked, folding her legs and tucking them underneath her.

"He has a certain boy band quality that could really help us during this year's competitions," nodded Rachel matter of factly, "But he's concerned with becoming unpopular."

"That's too bad," Tina frowned.

"I hope I didn't scare him off," Buffy sighed, resting her head back.

"Because you humiliated him in Breadstix?" asked Rachel.

"No, because my nail polish is a little loud," Buffy said sarcastically.

"What happened in Breadstix?" asked Tina.

"I so don't want to relive this."

"Buffy took him onto the dance floor, got bored and left him there."

"Buffy!" exclaimed Tina.

"It was when I just got back. I had... issues," Buffy shrugged, "I still feel bad about it."

"Well, maybe you can apologize and get him to join glee club," Rachel shrugged, smiling chipperly.

"Jeez, Rachel," Buffy sighed, exhausted.

"What?"

"It's embarrassing! And awkward. I'd rather just forget about it completely."

"Have it your way."

"Hey, this might go a lot faster if you chicks picked up a shovel, too," Finn called to them, raspy and out of breath, knee deep in a grave.

"I second that," said Mr. Schuester.

"Sorry, but, I'm an old fashioned gal. I was raised to believe that the men dig up the corpses and the women have the babies," nodded Buffy.

"I would have got Mike to help, but he has to study tonight for a History test," said Tina.

"What History test?" exclaimed Buffy, who was in Mike's History class.

"I think we're there," said Mr. Schuester, the tip of his shovel hitting a hard surface with a muffled clang.

The girls stood up and peered over into the rectangular hole.

"Are we hoping for a body or no body?" asked Rachel.

"A body would mean flesh eating demon. No body would point to an army of zombies," Tina nodded calmly.

"Go on, open it," Mr. Schuester elbowed Finn.

"You're closer..."

"Pathetic much?" Buffy rolled her eyes and hopped into the open grave.

xxx

Santana's boots barely made a sound against the pavement as she strode down the side of McKinley High, just beyond the illumination of the floodlights at the front of the school. The sun had already disappeared when she woke up, and she went downstairs to find her aunt and her best friend nervously offering her a dinner she had no appetite for. Tia Sofia didn't seem to understand that Santana didn't have an appetite for anything anymore accept blood and danger.

She stalked passed a dumpster and stopped still, hearing an eery noise. She took a step back as the dumpster began to creak open, and a head appeared in the crack.

"Morgan?" smirked Santana.

Morgan Ru looked up at the former Cheerio from inside the plastic dumpster, her eyes wide with surprise and panicked fear.

"Santana?"

"I'm not surprised that this is one of your hang out spots."

"Why were you following me?" Morgan demanded, frightened.

Santana wrinkled her nose. "I wasn't sure it was you... I was looking for a friend."

"Brittany?"

"...Yeah. How did you know?"

"You two were inseparable back when you were... What are you now? You disappeared and now you show up whenever the slayer needs help."

"How do you know about the slayer?"

"I-I knew since last year."

"Jesus, she can not keep her gob shut."

"It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."

"Why, what does she owe you?"

"Nothing," Morgan shrugged, "I just like knowing there's someone who can protect me when weird stuff happens."

"So that's it. Fear. Are you going to explain what you're doing in a dumpster?"

"I... got scared. You know, a lot of scary stuff happens in Lima, so when you hear a noise it's probably smarter to hide in a dumpster than to call out 'who's there?'"

"And all these years I thought you were as vapid as a toilet brush."

"Thanks. Can you help me out?"

"Sure," sighed Santana, and gripped the girl's shoulders, struggling to pull her out of the bin.

"Hold on, my skirt is caught on something," said Morgan, reaching into the dumpster and pulling on whatever her skirt was snagged on.

She gingerly pulled an item out of the dumpster and held it into the light. Both the girls took a sharp intake of breath as Morgan held out a severed hand.

xxx

"So, both coffins are empty. That makes three girls in the zombie army," said Finn as he and the others walked to the choir room, dirty shovels in hand, with Mr. Schuester and Buffy leading the way in the dark school.

"Is it really an army if you just have three?" asked Rachel as they entered the small room.

Their chatter stopped as they noticed Morgan Ru and Santana Lopez sitting on the plastic chairs, looking shaken.

"Santana," said Buffy, surprised.

"Buffy," said Santana, her eyes swiveling among the small crowd, "Berry."

"Santana," sneered Rachel, folding her arms over her chest.

"Where were you?" asked Santana.

"Investigating," said Buffy, "Somebody's been digging up the bodies of dead girls."

Santana awkwardly glanced at Morgan. "I know. We found some of them."

"You mean, like, two of the three?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"I mean, like, some of them. Like, parts."

"It was so disgusting," whined Morgan, "There were a ton of body parts just lying in the dumpster. Why are these terrible things always happening to me?"

"Karma," Rachel coughed under her breath.

"So much for our zombie theory," Finn furrowed his brow.

"So much for all of our theories," said Tina.

"I don't get it," Buffy shook her head, "Why go to all the trouble to dig up three girls only to chop them up and throw them away. It doesn't make any sense! Especially from a time management standpoint."

"I don't know. What I saw didn't really add up to three whole girls. I think they kept some parts," said Santana, wrinkling her nose.

"Could this get more disgusting?" Rachel asked rhetorically, shuddering.

"What if they're keeping some of the parts to eat?" asked Finn.

"Question answered," said Buffy.

"Do you think it's someone who goes to school here?" Rachel asked, wide eyed.

"This wasn't an amateur. Whoever made those incisions really knew what they were doing..." said Santana, "My dad was a doctor."

"Who at McKinley is that well versed in physiology?" asked Tina, "Besides me."

xxx

The next morning, Mr. Schuester pushed the glass door open on Emma's office without invitation. Since the start of the school year, the two had spent less and less time with each other, but now that the stress of it all was dawning on Will, he had to make an express stop to what he considered the local therapist. He immediately started to vent about his responsibilities as he slumped on the chair opposite her, willing the clock to tick slower before he had to supervise another glee club meeting.

"I have a stack of papers this high and Figgins is really on my back about budget cuts for the glee club if we don't win Sectionals, and on top of that, the kids want to perform Britney Spears songs," he vented, running his fingers through his tight curls.

He didn't bother mentioning that also on top of that he and his students were looking for a raving lunatic who was collecting female body parts and that he went home alone to his bare two bedroom apartment every night.

"What's wrong with the kids performing Britney Spears?" Emma asked, her eyes curious from behind her ginger side fringe, as she organized stacks of self help pamphlets.

"She's not a good role model," Will shook his head, "As a teacher, it's my responsibility to guide the kids in the right direction."

"I don't think Britney Spears is that bad," shrugged Emma, causing Will to raise his eyebrows, "I actually think it's quite admirable how she's gotten her life together."

Will rolled his eyes with a frown.

"Hasn't she had, what, three number one hits in the past two years? She's a single mom raising two kids. I think she's the perfect symbol for the possibility of rebirth," said Emma.

Will smirked and shook his head. He was already putting his students in grave danger by letting them help his slayer. He wasn't about to warp their values, too.

"See, that's your problem, Will," said Emma, as if she could read his mind, "You're too uptight."

"You're calling me uptight? The woman who buys hand sanitizer by the barrel?"

Emma blinked, her eyes rising to the ceiling with indignation. "I admit, I've had some trouble with control in the past, but Carl's been helping me with all of that."

A pout deepened in Will's face at the mention of Emma's new boyfriend, Dr. Carl Howell. As much as he liked the thought of Emma's germaphobe issues being helped, he admittedly, selfishly wanted to be the one helping them.

"Really? How?"

"Well, the other day he made me buy the green grapes and the red grapes at the market and then we just mixed them together in a bowl and we just ate them. It was madness. Sheer madness," Emma sighed, looking elated.

"Wow," Will groaned sarcastically.

Emma blinked and frowned disapprovingly. "You know what, that's fine. Make fun all you want but it's a start and I'm incredibly grateful for it."

Will pursed his lips and looked down. He hated the idea of another man dictating Emma's life and avoiding the sound of her plastic gloves. His guilt for thinking so selfishly was promptly stifled by his resentment for this man. Especially as a light knock on the door forewarned the entrance of the man himself.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Carl," Emma beamed, and Will turned around to face the man standing in the doorway, "What are you doing here?"

Will would never admit it aloud, but Carl Howell was undoubtedly handsome, with dark hair that matched his eyes and a crooked smile.

"I thought I'd take you to lunch," Carl smirked weakly, tired bags under his eyes.

Will bristled and supposed that he was the kind of broody hunk that women fawned over. Although he would never admit that aloud, either.

"You must be Will," Carl nodded after planting a kiss on Emma's cheek.

"Yeah," Will said, his gaze drifting to the window, grinding his teeth as Carl's buzzer sounded.

"Damn," Carl said under his breath, "Another teenager needs a root canal."

Emma smiled proudly at her boyfriend and turned her attention to Will. "Carl's been trying to get the school to let him give a seminar on dental hygiene, but they've really been dragging their feet," explained Emma.

Will leaned forward in his seat, his interest piqued. "Why don't you give a talk to my glee club next period?" he asked, his voice an octave higher with fake cheer.

"Really?" Carl asked, one dark eyebrow raised with intense interest.

"Sure. I'm usually tight with our rehearsal schedule, but I'm sure I could loosen the reigns a bit_, _for Carl," he emphasized to Emma, "Kids can't sing without teeth, right?"

"That's great, thanks," smirked Carl, "Just let me make a call, okay?"

Will nodded as Carl left the office, pulling his cell phone out of his trouser pocket.

"Wow, Will, that's really sweet of you," Emma beamed from behind her desk.

"What can I say?" Will shrugged, smiling benevolently, "Besides, Carl sure looks tired. He could probably use the help."

"You can tell, huh?" Emma winced.

Will nodded, and sunk back into the chair. "Sure."

"He's been sort of tired and introspective since I met him this summer. I thought it was just a cool, broody thing-"

_I __knew __it, _thought Will.

"- but he's actually been going through kind of a rough time."

"Really?" Will asked, listening intently.

"Mm hm. His brother died last spring. It was a real tragedy. Carl says they were best friends."

Will sighed, suddenly full of guilt. "That's rough. How did he die?"

"A heart attack. No one saw it coming."

Will kept his eyes on the surface of the desk, guilt overcoming him, because Carl had been through such a hard devastation this year, and all Will could think about was ways to steal his girlfriend. However, guilt wasn't enough to stop Will from dreaming.

xxx

"So, here's the deal," said Dr. Howell, holding a small white capsule in the palm of his hand and holding it out for the glee club to inspect, "You chew this little capsule, and if there's any plaque you missed, the dye will stick to it and turn your teeth blue."

Will and Emma watched the talk from the front of the classroom at the grand piano, as white capsules were passed out amongst the glee club.

"Before we chew, I would just like to alert Mr. Schuester that there's a new Facebook addition to the Britney Spears campaign," said Kurt, holding his capsule in his fingers.

"Sorry, the answer's still no," Mr. Schuester clapped his hands, "Capsules, guys!"

The glee club chewed away on their metallic tasting capsules until they had dissolved in their mouths, Kurt and Quinn the first to show off their sparkling white teeth. Puck showed off a winning smile and Mike and Tina kissed in celebration of their excellent dental hygiene. Everyone showed off their perfect teeth until a panicked grunt was heard from Finn in the back of the choir room.

"Oh my God," Kurt gasped as he turned around, the light of Rachel Berry's bright blue teeth glowing in her mouth.

She frowned in confusion. "What?" she demanded, panicked, and removed a hand mirror from her m purse, gasping at her own reflection, "I don't understand, I floss between classes!"

"Well, sometimes it's genetics," Carl shrugged.

"I think I would be better at brushing and flossing if I could see myself in the mirror," said Artie, his mouth horrendously blue.

Brittany smiled brightly, showing her blue teeth off with pride. "I don't brush my teeth. I rinse my mouth out with soda after I eat. I was pretty sure Dr. Pepper was a dentist."

Carl smirked at Brittany, clearly amused. "I'll pencil you in right away. Some deep bleaching and scaling - good as new."

"And what about me?" asked Rachel, worried for her teeth.

"Yeah, I'll get back to you and Wheels," said Carl, now engrossed in his Blackberry as the bell rang.

"Any sign of our suspects?" Finn leaned in and asked Buffy as everyone flooded out save for them, Rachel and Tina.

Tina leaned in the quietly join the conversation while Rachel tried to wipe the incriminating blue dye off of her teeth with a handwipe she kept on her person in case of a slushie facial.

"Not yet," said Buffy, frustrated by their newest case.

"I might have found something..." said Tina.

"Tell!" Buffy demanded, folding her arms in anticipation.

"Not a person. But an idea. I was reading up all night about zombification-"

"I thought it wasn't zombies," said Finn.

"Well, not yet. Like, I said, I was reading up on it, and there are cases of men with several female victims who've had body parts removed. At the end of the murder spree, he would sew their body parts together and reanimate the body as a zombie, in an attempt to recreate the perfect girl."

Buffy's lip curled up in disgust, and Rachel even left her now dimly blue teeth alone to listen.

"Why would someone _make _a girl?" asked Buffy, clearly disgusted.

"Why wouldn't they?" asked Finn.

The girls looked up at Finn, their expressions ranging from searching to repulsed.

"I just mean... It's hard for some guys. To find love."

"Love has nothing to do with this," Buffy sneered.

"Fine. But people don't tend to fall in love with what's right in front of them. The more unattainable the better," he shrugged.

Buffy frowned and looked at the floor. He had a point. Buffy was still secretly harboring a crush on her watcher. If that wasn't looking for heartbreak, what was? Even Rachel and Finn were victims of wanting what they couldn't have. They'd been so crazy for each other when they were kept apart by Quinn Fabray and Jesse St. James, but now that they were together, Rachel spent most of her time criticizing Finn, and Finn always had a bored, glazed over look in his eyes, unless they were hunting some sort of big bad. But Buffy didn't comment on that aloud.

Tina shook her head. "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that," she sighed, and a smirk escaped.

The others chuckled quietly. They'd picked up Buffy's knack for finding humor in the horrible. She wasn't so sure she should be glad she was rubbing off on them.

xxx

"This room looks like the one in that space ship where I got probed," said Brittany, recollecting a dream as she stared up into the almost blinding overhead light in Dr. Howell's office.

"Brittany, you have the worst teeth I've ever seen," Dr. Howell shook his head as his assistant cleaned silver tools, "You have cavities in every tooth."

"Please don't pull out my teeth. When I smile I'll look like an adult baby but with boobs," she pleaded calmly.

Dr. Howell blinked and shook his head. "I'll have to put you deep under anaesthesia. You won't feel a thing."

"Like roofies?"

"Yeah, totally," he muttered and switched on the radio, letting the sounds of Britney Spears' 'I'm a Slave 4 U' fill the small dentists' office, "You just relax."

"Oh no, not Britney," Brittany sighed as he strapped a gas mask on her face.

Muddled visions of herself wrapped in snakes and Santana and singing a sexy song made Brittany wake up with a tired smile. It felt like she had been unconscious for only a couple of minutes, but her eyes were already fluttering open, real time having passed much slower. She squinted in anticipation of the blinding light above the cushy dentist's chair, but she found the only thing overhead was a pair of long, dim bulbs that didn't make much of an impression on her opening eyes. In fact, she didn't feel much like she was resting in the soft leather cushioned seats of the dentists' chair anymore, and as she rolled over cautiously, she found that she wasn't. She took a small but sharp intake of breath as she found herself on a cold, wide metal table.

The entirety of her surroundings was different, and completely foreign. She looked around, her catlike eyes wide and frightened. The room she was in now was small and square with gray bricks making up the walls, and only one wooden door, and shards of glass broken in the corner. She could feel chills run around her skin and she started to shake, looking down and discovering herself in a white and blue hospital gown, her blonde hair now down in a scraggly mess around her shoulders.

She mused for a moment that she might still be dreaming, but she laid that theory to rest after promptly pinching herself.

"Oh, God," she sighed, desperately.

She tended to put her trust in doctors and cops, but right now, she wasn't so sure if what was happening was okay or not. She slid off of the wide metal table, her bare feet hitting the cold concrete floor and sending a shudder up her back. She couldn't find her clothes anywhere - and there weren't a lot of places to hide. She walked around the table, only to accidentally step on a shard of broken glass. She gasped in pain and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Although she knew it was unlikely, she couldn't shake the feeling that behind that door could be an alien waiting to probe her.

She whimpered quietly and wiped the small amount of blood from under her heel. As she held her hand over the cut, leaning down, she caught her reflection in the glass. It wasn't her mussed hair or her frightened blue eyes that took her about. It was the marks on her neck. A dotted line that went all the way around, in pen, like the marks on Santana's chest when she got that boob job last summer, or the ones on Quinn's face when she 'fixed' her nose. Brittany gasped and clutched her own neck, tears welling up. She knew what happened to dotted lines. She owned activity books. That's where you had to _cut. _Brittany Pierce may think that dolphins are just gay sharks, but the girl wasn't stupid.

She peeked around the corner of the door as she opened it slowly, just a sliver of space for her to see that on the other side was a slightly smaller room, empty, with another door and a wooden staircase. Without hesitation, Brittany burst through the door and thundered up the staircase, her heart racing.

In the other room, Carl looked up from cleaning his tools. He turned to his balding assistant with trepidation.

"Did you hear that?" asked the assistant, his eyes still with fear behind the lenses of his spectacles.

"Dammit," Carl muttered, dropping his instruments and bursting through the door. The door opposite him that led to his operation room was wide open.

"Shit," his assistant murmured behind him, and followed Carl as he bounded up the staircase.

Upstairs was flooded with light compared to the dank basement, and Carl thundered through his small kitchen and into the hall, his heart thudding at the sight of his front door, wide open and gently swaying back and forth in the breeze. He was out on his porch in a flash, and in the distance of the neighborhood, the blonde was still running, scantily clad in her hospital gown with her messy sand colored hair whipping behind her. Gradually fading footprints of blood followed her.

"We can catch her!" the assistant hissed behind him.

Carl pushed against the assistant and pushed him back into his house, closing the door behind him.

"It's too late," Carl shook his head.

"What are you talking about? We can catch her!"

"You think we can just go out into the neighborhood and tackle down a teenager. Subtlety, Garrison."

Garrison sighed, frustrated. "We can't reanimate the body with a dead brain. We need a fresh one."

"So we'll get a fresh one!"

"You better hurry. That girl's going to tell someone and we're not going to have long before we have to change our names and move."

Carl bit his bottom lip, thinking. "There was another girl who needed an appointment."

"It's a little late for an appointment. And by tomorrow, all of the blonde's school friends will know."

Carl sighed. "Then we need someone fast, don't we? Someone who already has my trust and a reason to come to my house."

"What are you suggesting?"

"My girlfriend and I been dating for a month now and she still isn't putting out. I was going to break up with her soon, but maybe she still has some use."

"Are you sure about this?"

Carl shrugged. "She's a little older than the other, but maybe Daryl needs someone with sophistication."


	27. The Monster

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

(D'Hoffryn)[...]I gave you the powers of a vengeance demon. You wield the type of magic to inflict pain, not help the needy. When you gave Santana Lopez her soul again, a curse came attached with it."

(Terri) "What curse?"

(D'Hoffryn) "The curse of eternal despair. If Santana were to ever experience true happiness, her soul would leave again, and she'd be the demon she was supposed to be."

xxx

(Sofia) "They try to love her, but they don'. They raise my mija like they're doing her a favor, but that's no way to raise a child. You don' make a child think they have to earn your love."

[...]

(Quinn) "You're Santana's mother."

xxx

(Buffy) sighed, the dark realization dawning. Whoever was in that grave hadn't risen. She hopped out of the grave, her stomach churning uncomfortably as she spotted a strappy sandal covered in dirt marks on the ground. They had been dragged from it.

xxx

"Why would someone _make _a girl?" asked Buffy, clearly disgusted.

"Why wouldn't they?" asked Finn.

[...]

Tina shook her head. "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that," she sighed, and a smirk escaped.

xxx

(Will) "I just wanted to know if you'd want to go to a play with me. Death of a Salesman is playing in the town theatre on Saturday-"

(Emma) "I can't."

Will's smile faltered. "Is it a gore thing? Because don't let the name fool you, it's clean."

"I'm familiar with the play, I just... I'm seeing someone."

Will blinked. "Oh..."

"I was just having a regular check-up with my dentist, and he must have been charmed with my impeccable oral hygiene, because he asked me on a date," she shrugged, grinning widely, "I'm sorry, Will."

xxx

(Emma) "Mm hm. His brother died last spring. It was a real tragedy. Carl says they were best friends."

xxx

Brittany smiled brightly, showing her blue teeth off with pride. "I don't brush my teeth. I rinse my mouth out with soda after I eat. I was pretty sure Dr. Pepper was a dentist."

Carl smirked at Brittany, clearly amused.

"I'll pencil you in right away. Some deep bleaching and scaling - good as new."

xxx

(Brittany) took a small but sharp intake of breath as she found herself on a cold, wide metal table.

[...]

(Brittany) could feel chills run around her skin and she started to shake, looking down and discovering herself in a white and blue hospital gown, her blonde hair now down in a scraggly mess around her shoulders.

[...]

xxx

(Carl) "Then we need someone fast, don't we? Someone who already has my trust and a reason to come to my house."

(Garrison) "What are you suggesting?"

(Carl) "My girlfriend and I been dating for a month now and she still isn't putting out. I was going to break up with her soon, but maybe she still has some use."

xxx

The cold seemed to melt off of her skin as Santana returned home, sliding her jacket off of her body and hooking it into the coat hanger in the foyer. She could keenly smell an Indian dish awaiting her in the oven. She decided to eat it to appease her aunt. She pushed the kitchen door open to find Sofia leaning against the counter with Quinn, their eyes on the door, waiting expectantly for Santana to enter.

"What are you guys doing?" Santana asked, raising a dark eyebrow at their blank expressions.

Sofia opened her mouth and struggled to find words to reply with.

"We were waiting for you to come home so we could start dinner," Quinn said quickly and blankly, her eyes rushing away from Santana to the plates of chicken, as if that's where her attention was wrapped.

Her aunt and her room-mate circled the square counter and set it like a dinner table. Santana sat down beside them are shoved a forkful into her mouth. It didn't taste as good as it would have before. It only had bland flavors, like textured water.

"Gracias, Sofia," Santana mumbled.

"Queen helped," Sofia said, rushing to pour a tall glass of water.

"It was nothing, I just peeled the garlic," Quinn shrugged, tucking into her dinner, her eyes wandering away.

Santana's fork paused hesitantly just above her plate to watch the strange exchanges of looks between her aunt Sofia and her best friend. She searched for a reason for their quick responses, their cautious silences, their frequent glances to each other. They must be tired, thought Santana. It was getting late for them.

"What did you do tonight, mija?" Sofia asked quickly to fill the silence.

Unlike Quinn, Sofia was never content to sit quietly.

Santana hesitated to answer. What she did alone at night wasn't something she regularly discussed. She explained to her aunt that as a vampire, she needed time on her own to be out at night. Sometimes it was just to brood around the graveyard. Sometimes it was to hustle poker in demon bars. Tonight she had brought a bottle of butchers' blood and drank it on the Lima water tower, listening to the silence of the night and watching the moon glow brighter. Something about becoming a creature of the night makes people so introspective.

"I just went for a walk," said Santana, and the other women nodded silently, hurriedly trying to finish their dinner, "What about you two? Did you do some bonding?"

Santana couldn't help but notice Sofia promptly biting her bottom lip and looking up at Quinn, who returned the knowing glance, quickly looking back down as if afraid her eyes would reveal too much.

"What is going on with you guys?" asked Santana, setting down her fork and scrutizing the two of them.

"Nothing. Salt?" offered Sofia.

"No, I don't want salt, I want you guys to tell me why you're being so weird around me since yesterday."

"We're not being weird!" Quinn said defensively.

"You're being extremely weird," Santana shook her head, "What's going on?"

Quinn looked back at Sofia, her expression blank but her eyes pleading.

"Nothing," Sofia said promptly, "I not hungry anymore."

"Neither am I," Quinn said quietly, and Sofia collected her plate under hers.

"Hold on a second!" Santana said, standing and holding her hands up to her aunt.

"Santana-"

"No, escuchame. If there's something going on, I want to know. I don't want any secrets. We're like a family now. A small, weird family, so... no secrets."

Santana looked at the remains of her small, weird family, and the other women exchanged looks. Quinn's mouth turned down in a worried frown, her eyebrows knitted together. She looked like a girl who felt like she was committing betrayal and Santana's mouth fell open.

"I think I know what this is about," said Santana.

The women looked surprised.

"Jou do?" asked Sofia.

Santana nodded, looking down at Quinn, irritated.

"You told her about the clause," Santana accused, folding her arms.

Sofia blinked at Quinn, awaiting an explanation.

"...Yes," Quinn admitted after hesitation, blinking innocently.

Santana rolled her eyes. "That wasn't your information to give, Q."

"I know," Quinn said simply, clasping her hands together, "I'm sorry. It just... slipped out."

Santana sighed and shook her head back at Sofia glanced back and forth, dumbfounded.

"It's okay. Like I said, our small, weird family shouldn't have secrets. I should have told you about the clause sooner, tia. I'm sorry."

Sofia blinked and shrugged her shoulder. "S'okay."

"I hope you're not worried."

Sofia shook her head, her eyes wide and swiveling around Santana's face. "My mija can handle herself."

"I can," Santana nodded, "Thank you."

The doorbell rang, tearing Santana's attention away from her family. As Santana turned her back, Sofia mouthed, 'What clause?' to Quinn, but the question went unanswered as Quinn mouthed, 'Not now'. Santana's heels clicked against the tiles of the hallway and she opened the front door, taken aback by the image of Brittany standing before her in nothing but a hospital gown, her blonde hair loose and scraggly, fallen around her shoulders. A dotted line of ink circled her thin neck. The thing that made Santana's stomach churn was the look of panic and fear in Brittany's eyes.

"Brittany!" Santana gasped, instantly throwing her arm over the girl and pulling her inside.

At this point, Sofia and Quinn had peered around the kitchen door, curious.

"What's going on?" asked Quinn as the women walked into the hallway, started by the sight of Brittany with beads of sweat dripping down her temples.

"I ran all the way here," Brittany said breathlessly.

"Brittany, why, what happened?" Santana asked quickly, holding Brittany's shoulders to keep the tired girl steady. Santana had the inconsolable urge to kill whatever did this to her girl. Not just kill, but rip to shreds.

"Aliens," Brittany sighed, "Going to probe me. Chop my head off. Oh my God, Santana."

She fell into Santana's arms, sobbing in shocked fear. Santana stroked the girl's hair, trying to make sense of her words. All she could think about were the discarded body parts she found the night before with Morgan Ru. Whoever was behind that must have intended on trapping Brittany.

"Can you remember anything, Britt?" Santana asked, struggling to keep her voice sounding calm and collected as Brittany breathed heavily on her shoulder.

"I was at the dentist."

"The dentist?"

"And he put the laughing gas on me-"

"And what happened when you woke up, Britt?"

"I was in a secret lab where I was going to get probed! But I ran out the door and up the stairs and it looked like a house and I ran out of the house and I ran to you," Brittany rambled.

"I'll call Buffy," Quinn said quickly, walking back into the kitchen.  
>"Boofy?" asked Sofia, wringing her hands together.<p>

"The slayer."

xxx

"I knew it!"

"No you didn't."

Buffy removed her seatbelt in the passengers' seat of Mr. Schuester's Honda. Even in an emergency, he was terribly safety conscious. They got out of the car, weapons tucked into the insides of their jackets, and they walked up the path to Dr. Howell's bungalow.

"Maybe not specifically, but I knew there had to be something wrong with this guy," Will shook his head in the darkness as they approached the front door.

"Why, because he likes Ms. Pillsbury?" asked Buffy, nonchalantly kicking open the door, the wooden pieces whirling into the darkness of the small house.

Will frowned at the tone of her voice. "No."

"That's not what I meant," said Buffy, flipping on the light switch, "I don't mean there's something wrong with liking Ms. Pillsbury, but... It's just that you must have really been searching for something wrong with him, because you were jealous. He stole your woman, so to speak. Am I right?"

Will squirmed. "This is an inappropriate conversation."

"I'm right," Buffy shrugged, "So what are we looking for?"

She briefly inspected the house, deducting that it looked like any ordinary man's home.

"We're looking for him. And possibly his next victim. If he's smart, he's not going to try to capture Brittany again and move on to someone else."

"Quinn said that when Brittany escaped, she ran upstairs, so the lab must be in the basement," said Buffy.

It didn't take the duo long to find the doorway that led to the basement, but it was inconveniently the only one in the house that was locked.

"Do you think they're down there?" asked Buffy.

"No, they would have heard us," Will shook his head, staring down at his imitation leather shoes in concentration.

"He knows he's going to be found soon, so if he's going to get a head, he knows he has to do it fast," said Buffy.

Will nodded in agreement. "He needs someone on short notice... So someone he knows probably."

"Someone who trusts him," Buffy concluded with a little horror.

"Oh God..." Will's jaw dropped at the sudden realization.

Without a word, Will whipped out his cell phone and dialed in Emma's number, trying in vain to call her four times.

"We have to go to the school. She has to be there still, finishing paper work. It's why she's not answering her phone," said Will, reaching the limit of his hopefulness.

"Let's go," said Buffy, because although Ms. Pillsbury annoyed her and brought out a little possessiveness when it came to her watcher, she couldn't afford to have that woman come to harm. If anything happened to Emma Pillsbury, Will's devastation would be everlasting.

xxx

Emma pursed her lips and checked her watch. She winced to herself as she realized it was rounding to about ten in the evening. She felt more and more guilty for spending so much time on these trivial things since she started dating Carl. She felt she owed it to him to not spend hours at a time organizing self help leaflets or straightening the stationary on her desk. While she did have a massive pile of paperwork to finish, it still shouldn't take her this long to finish.

She straightened a small stack of blank paper on the edge of her desk and rose out of her seat to leave, straightening her salmon colored cardigan. As she looked up, she jerked in shock as she saw her boyfriend standing in the doorway, the circles around his eyes almost as dark as his eyes.

"Carl! You scared me," she sighed, clutching her chest.

She walked towards him in the dim light of only her office lamp and attempted a smile, uncomfortable when he didn't respond, but frowned, melancholy.

"Why are you here?" she asked, "Is something wrong?"

As she inched nearer to her boyfriend, out of the darkness beyond the doorway, another figured appeared brandishing a pillow case that he swiftly draped over Emma's head, holding it in place around her neck as she screamed, her defiant cries muffled by the fabric. Emma struggled to no avail, and somehow sensed that her mysterious boyfriend was gone, and all that was left was her unknown captor. That is, until she heard him grunt in pain. She threw off the pillow case as the hands fell limp, her heart thundering like a horse's gallop. Buffy Summers stood before her and threw a punch to the man's face, but let him flee away when she turned her attention to Emma.

"Buffy!" she cried, shocked and disoriented, clutching her small dolphin necklace.

"It's okay," Buffy assured her, a little breathless herself.

"C-Carl came in and all of a sudden someone jumped me," she stammered, still alert with fear.

"Is she okay?" Will demanded as he thundered into view, his eyes wild with worry and anger.

"She's fine. One of Carl's handymen got away, though," Buffy bristled, her eyes lingering down the hall that the attacker escaped down.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Will sighed, draping his arms over Emma. She melted into them, unsure of what was happening.

"You should take her home," said Buffy, "Make sure she's safe."

"I will," Will nodded, steering Emma out of her office and down the opposite hall, towards the exit.

Buffy's eyes still lingered in the darkness, and she strained her ears to hear a low, raspy breath.

"Carl?" she called quietly, "I know what you and your assistant are trying to do. I know about the bodies from the cemetery."

She bit her lip and stood frozen as Carl appeared from around a corner, waiting for her to continue with a disinterested look on his face.

"I just don't understand. You can already be with Emma. Why mutilate her into some distorted version of what you want? Why can't you just be happy with what you have?" Buffy asked, searching for a meaning to the madness.

"You think the creature is for me?" Carl asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Isn't it?"

Carl's eyes wavered away sadly. "No."

"Then why, Dr. Howell?"

"My brother is dead!" he shouted, enraged, "He's dead and he doesn't deserve that kind of..."

He trailed off, supposedly overcome with grief.

"I know what it's like to lose someone," said Buffy, "But that's no excuse. What you're doing is wrong."

"That doesn't mean anything to me. I have to do this. For him. He needs someone. He's alone, completely."

"What are you...? Oh my God."

xxx

Will rushed Emma out of the school, his arm draped around her.

"I don't understand," she whimpered.

"I'll explain it all later," he promised, "First, we have to get you somewhere safe."

He guided her through the parking lot, his hand on the small of her back, when a great, cracking thud came over his head and he slumped forward, darkness engulfing him. Emma turned with a gasp and barely had time to scream when the same thud cracked over her head and she passed out. Only unlike Will, Emma was caught by tender and dangerous arms, the flesh falling off the corners of the hands.

Daryl Howell gripped her gently, sniffing as he stroked a strand of her vibrant red hair.

"He promised I would never be alone," he repeated to himself as he carried the redhead out of the grounds and back home.

xxx

"Will!"

Will blinked, stars dancing under his eyelids, but he pushed them away and struggled to open his eyes, staring up and more stars, still and silent in the sky.

"Will!"

He blinked some more, waking himself up as he realized he was lying on concrete. He sat up with the help of a pair of small and nimble hands pushing at him.

"Buffy," he groaned, a throbbing pain in his head.

"He took Emma," Buffy said, her voice full of worry.

"Emma," Will sighed, everything coming back to him, "We have to find her."

He rose from the ground, slightly dizzy, to find that he and Buffy were not alone. Carl stood at a distance, his dark eyes piercing in the night.

"You bastard!" Will cried and stumbled forward with a clenched fist.

"Wait! He can help us," said Buffy, raising her hands to her watcher.

"How can he help us?"

"He can tell us where she is," said Buffy, and turned to address Carl, "Where did he take her?"

"The lab," said Carl, his hands shoved into his pockets, "To finish the procedure with Garrison."

"Where is the lab?" demanded Will.

"Look, I promised him-"

"He'll kill Emma!" shouted Will.

"You can't just give and take lives like that," Buffy said through gritted teeth, "It's not your place."

Carl groaned. "The lab is in my basement. Garrison has the key so he could have started already..."

"Thank you," sighed Buffy, and turned back to Will, "Tell the others what's going on. Santana will want to be with Brittany, so get Quinn, Tina, Rachel, Finn. Anyone who can help. It seems like we're going to be up against a zombie after all."

xxx

Before the others arrived, Buffy's hard kick broke down the door, send shards of wood scattered all over the floor. The loud sound alerted Carl's assistant Garisson, and Carl's brother Daryl, who Buffy found to look just as much a rotted corpse as she imagined, with his graying skin flaking off in places and his eyes sunken into his head.

Garrison threw a sterile, silver knife Buffy's way, but she ducked and looked up only to see him fleeing through a second doorway down below her.

"Help!" she heard Emma scream downstairs.

Buffy trotted down some of the steps, and laid her eyes on the zombie.

"Daryl," she said urgently from midway down the staircase, "I know what you're doing. You're brother sent me to stop you."

"He wouldn't do that," Daryl said blankly, "My brother loves me."

"Buffy, they're crazy!" Emma screamed desperately from the other room, strapped to a large metal table.

"It's okay, Ms. Pillsbury, I'm going to get you out of here."

"I'm not done with her yet," said Daryl, running back into the lab.

Buffy followed him with intense speed and as he drew a knife from under the table, she gripped his hand and punched his face, making him drop the dangerous blade. He pushed her with his brute force, sending her flying over the metal table to the other side of the room, her leg cut by a shard of broken glass.

"I won't live alone!" he shouted, stumbling towards Buffy, knocking over a canister of gasoline with his clumsy foot,

Buffy rose despite her cut leg and kicked Daryl hard in the shin. He doubled over in pain as she punched him in the stomach and kicked him down. He was quick to rise again, so she pushed him into the table, knocking a Bunsen burner out from under the table. Buffy didn't notice until it switched on, sending flames coursing over the spilled gasoline.

"Buffy!" she looked over to the doorway to see Finn's large frame standing there, with the girls and even Mike Chang standing behind him.

"Get Ms. Pillsbury!" she called as she fought off the zombie.

Finn and Mike rushed to Ms. Pillsbury's side, struggling to undo the straps confining her to the table. Daryl bellowed and threw a canister of oxygen at the ground, and it exploded in a loud, roaring fire, the flames spreading across the room, dangerously close to the lab table. Quinn shielded her eyes from the flames and as she held up her hands, the flames died down until they stopped burning completely.

Rachel and Tina helped to untie Ms. Pillsbury and carry her out of the lab while Buffy kept Daryl at bay. As the others escaped, Daryl knocked Buffy to the ground. He lifted the largest shard of glass and pointed the sharpest point to the ground, lunging forward to smash it into her face.

"Daryl!"

Daryl held the glass in the air, alerted by the sound of his brother's voice.

"Don't!" Carl said breathlessly, standing in the doorway.

Daryl threw the shard of glass aside, his eyes retreating to the ceiling. He sighed, as if exhausted, and ignored his surroundings. He had the face of a man who had given up entirely.

Buffy hopped up and stormed out of the lab, grabbing Carl's shirt and dragging him away from it, as well.

"Quinn," she said as she passed the blonde, an unspoken plea for her to end this once and for all.

Quinn retreated back to the door of the lab and looked at the reanimated corpse inside, shuddering, with a trace of fear in her heart. With little ceremony, she conjured an blazing fire in the lab. Daryl didn't pay any attention as the flames grew larger and licked at his body. He didn't pay any mind as they engulfed him.

xxx

Sofia watched from the kitchen, peering over the side of the living room door every couple of minutes. She couldn't help it. The sight was simply awe inspiring. The blonde was now warmed up in a pair of Quinn's pajamas, with the pen marks now faded from her neck after Santana took it upon herself to scrub them off. The girls were gathered on the couch, Brittany leaning into Santana, like a zone of comfort, her head on the vampire's lap. Not that that was extraordinary. Sofia had met Brittany before. She always heard about the blonde girl's antics when she visited every Christmas. Santana's eyes lit up whenever she mentioned Brittany, but right now at that moment, Santana's sparkling eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the blonde. It made Sofia's heart shudder pleasantly. Santana was in love. Sofia could feel it, and it made her ecstatic.

She heard the door swing open and close again, and a few seconds later, Quinn entered the kitchen looking exhausted.

"We took care of it," was all she said, sighing with her back against the door, "How are they doing?"

Sofia smiled. "They're doing fine."

She took a seat at the island counter. Quinn peered into the living room, and turned back to Sofia, a slight smile on her face.

"Queen?" asked Sofia, as Quinn groaned and took a seat at the counter.

"Yes?"

"Tell me. Is my mija in love?"

Quinn sighed sadly. "Very much so."

"How long?"

"Forever."

Sofia smiled, pleased. "And does Bree-ta-ny love her back?"

"More than anything."

"But then why are they no together?"

"Santana is afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

Quinn sighed and looked down at the surface of the counter, uncomfortable.

"Does this have to do with the clause?"

Quinn nodded silently.

"Tell me, Queen, what is this clause?" Sofia asked, hushed.

Quinn nodded. "I will tell you if you tell Santana that you're her mother."

"Excuse me?"

"It's not fair. You heard her earlier. Santana doesn't want secrets."

"She thinks I already know."

"Well, you don't. Please, it's not my place to tell."

Sofia sighed, too exhausted to argue. "I see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"Jus' tell me. Do I need to be worried?"

Quinn bit her lip and sadly thought of the girls in the other room. Simply knowing the rules of the clause would keep Santana from truly giving herself to Brittany. It was fool proof insurance that she would never be happy.

"No," Quinn said with a sullen frown, "You have nothing to be worried about."

xxx

Will knocked lightly on Emma's door, a sheepish expression stuck on his face. Most mornings, she straightened her office out, each leaflet aligned, while she hummed to herself. Today, her hands were clasped on the desk and she sat in silence, her lips in a tight, straight line on her face.

She only looked up as Will cleared his throat. "Will," she said, her voice quiet and resigned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She tried a wilted smile, and nodded briefly. "I'm... tired. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"That doesn't surprise me. I'm so sorry, Emma," he said, walking over to her desk and leaning on the edge of it, looking down at her tussled red hair.

"It's not your fault," she shook her head, "I'm just so... God, I don't understand any of this."

"We took care of everything. The monster was destroyed. Carl was arrested for graverobbing. We're unsure about his assistant, though."

"I feel like I'm going insane," sighed Emma.

"You're not," he reassured her, putting his hand over hers.

"I'm not so sure about that. Whenever I try to go over what happened last night, it sounds so impossible."

"It may sound that way, but it's not," Will shook his head, "There's a lot you don't know."

"I don't know how to deal with that."

"It's best just to accept it."

"But you know all about this? And so does Buffy? The two of you saved me, from- from..."

"A zombie."

Emma took a sharp intake of breath. It was so strange to hear her fear confirmed.

"Things like that shouldn't exist," she said, her voice shaking.

"You're absolutely right. Which is why Buffy and I help to stop these things."

Emma shook her head. "That's too much to take in, Will. First my new boyfriend is an evil zombie maker and now you and Buffy are... crime fighters?"

"Buffy is the slayer."

"What is the slayer?"

"A girl with preternatural strength. She fights evil. I'm her watcher. I train her. And help her."

"I'm hallucinating."

"No, you're not," Will chuckled, "I understand if this is too much, though. For some people, it's easier to accept something when you don't have to know all the details. Finn liked the bliss of ignorance, but he's become more involved since last year."

"Finn knows?"

"Most of the glee club does, save for Puck and Piper."

Emma clutched at her necklace again, the bones in her neck showing as she held her breath, stunned.

"Maybe the less I know, the better," she nodded.

Will nodded, and caressed her hand under his. "If that's what you want," he said, and rose from his lean against the desk, walking towards the door.

"Will," she called behind him.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

She hesitated, a small smile washing over her face. "Thank you for saving me."

He smiled back sadly. "I always will," he replied quietly, and left the room.


	28. The Parents' Day

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

There's a new kid named Sam joining glee club.

**Sam: My name is Sam. Obviously.**

Buffy ditched him on the dance floor and totally embarrassed him.

**Rachel: Well, maybe you can apologize and get him to join glee club.**

Good idea. And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth

xxx

Dim sunlight poured in through the floor to ceiling windows of McKinley High's student lounge, and illuminated several paint sample color cards. Rachel Berry thoughtfully stroked her chin and looked down on the color cards resting on a low, plastic coffee table.

"Buffy! Buffy, I need your help!" she said as she looked up and spotted her best friend a few meters away in the hall, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"What's up?" Buffy asked chipperly as she approached, and curiously looked down at the color cards.

"As you are well aware, Parents' Day is tomorrow at seven o'clock," Rachel clasped her hands together.

"Don't remind me," Buffy groaned, slouching, "I just have to keep Mom away from my Math teacher."

"Oh, Buffy, don't think of the experience like that," Rachel smiled warmly, "Your mother is one of a minority of parents who attend Parents' Day. At least she cares about you."

Buffy shrugged. "Are your dads coming?"

"Of course. They attend every year," Rachel smiled.

"To hear you get praised by several different people?"

"Precisely, but that's beside the point. I have volunteered to set up the display of the lounge to accommodate the parents, as well as organize the refreshments."

"Lucky you."

"Indeed. Except that it just so happens that I'm having trouble putting a final decision on what color to paint the Parents' Day banner. I've narrowed it down to these five," said Rachel, gesturing to five color cards on the coffee table below them.

Buffy narrowed her eyes and inspected five very purple cards.

"Why don't you go for the school colors?" she asked.

Rachel sighed and rolled her deep brown eyes. "Buffy, I'm as patriotic and spirited as the next person, but do you really think the fire engine red that adorns this school is going to make the setting of a relaxed and nurturing environment? I don't think so. I would have gone for a nice Malibu blue, but purple is so much more regal, don't you think?"

Buffy shrugged, and inspected the color cards once more. "I think I'm going to say... Wisteria," said Buffy.

Rachel nodded at the pinky purple color card. "Amethyst it is." She plucked the color card out from the others and grinned.

"Alrighty," Buffy shrugged, and frowned as Rachel fluffed throw pillows on the wicker sofas, "Do you think you could help me cram some Spanish tonight? My mom has really been getting to me about my grades. Especially since Parents Day is coming up. She just doesn't want to be embarrassed."

"I'm sure Mr. Schuester will talk you up. He understands why your grades are so..."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'abysmal'. Still, no matter how much talking up Mr. Schue manages, there's no hiding that I've been doing terribly in school."

"I'll be happy to help you, Buffy, if you'd just do me one small favor."

Buffy groaned. "What is it?"

"I know that you're reluctant, but I would really appreciate it if you'd apologize to Sam Evans. Or at least, try to talk to him again without getting bored and leaving."

Buffy flushed pink at the memory, and sighed. "Do I have to?"

"He would be just the thing to give us a competitive edge for Sectionals, it's just that we're really having trouble convincing him to join glee club. If some of us could just warm up to him..."

"I get it," Buffy sighed reluctantly, "I'll do my best."

Rachel squealed with happiness and briefly hugged her friend. "Oh, Buffy, thank you. You're a life saver."

"I'm not making any promises."

"Of course not," Rachel shook her head, and continued fluffing throw pillows with a smile on her face, when Kurt approached with a clipboard and a determined grin.

"Nice to see you ladies," he smiled, "I have some exciting news."

"Slushies were discontinued in the cafeteria?" Rachel gasped.

"Dear baby Jesus, nothing that good. Just a project I decided to carry out."

"We're listening," Buffy smiled.

"Well, I trust you all remember last week's body snatching fiasco?" he asked.

"All too well."

"Well, there was already less than half a chance that Mr. Schuester would let us perform Britney Spears, but after our Brittany started associating that Britney with decapitation, it was definitely a no go."

"Understandably."

"And of course as much as I love glee club, we're not really up to date with the edginess and flare of today's pop music culture. That's why I took it upon myself to speak to the manager of the Bronze and I talked him into letting me hold an open mic night!"

"Kurt, that's great," Buffy smiled.

"I'm so excited. No one will have any limits to what they can perform. The more risqué, the better."

"When is it? I'll need to have something prepared," Rachel said, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"It's tonight."

"Tonight?!" Buffy repeated.

"Kurt, you shouldn't have asked me to perform live on such short notice," Rachel reprimanded calmly.

"I never asked you to-"

"Nevertheless, I can manage. I'll need the closing number, though. Nothing can follow Barbra."

"Sure, Rachel," Kurt sighed, begrudgingly, "So I'll see you two tonight then."

Buffy nodded, trying a wavering smile. "No problem, Kurt."

Kurt waggled his fingers and was off again. Rachel raised her eyebrows at Buffy, the knowing mother look creeping onto her face.

"What?" snapped Buffy, "I can study and party and make my mother proud, as long as I don't have to..."

Down the hall, Mr. Schuester approached, briefcase in hand. "Buffy!" he called, looking serious.

"...fight vampires," Buffy continued with a fearful expression as Mr. Schuester approached the two girls.

"Buffy, I have some news."

"When don't you?"

"My friend April Rhodes called me last night to tell me that according to her calculations, Saturday night is the night of St. Vigeous."

"Let me guess. He didn't make balloon animals," said Buffy.

"I had no idea who he was until I asked Tina to research it for me. He led a crusade of vampires. They had a night of complete chaos."

Buffy nodded. "Well, if my mother doesn't ground me for life tomorrow night, than I'll see what I can do about Saturday."

"I think you might be taking this a little too lightly, Buffy. This is serious."

"And getting kicked out of school isn't?"

"You know what happened the last time you let your personal life interfere with your slaying. I'm not saying that you shouldn't care about school-"

"Well, if my slaying doesn't get me expelled then I promise my studying won't get me killed."

"I don't know, Buffy. We need a lot of preparation."

"We'll help," offered Rachel, "I can recruit the glee club to whittle some stakes. Tina can research."

"Thank you, Rachel, I appreciate it, but when it comes to fighting, that's something Buffy has to do alone."

xxx

Quinn slung her backpack in the corner of the foyer like she did every day after school and strode into the kitchen. Peering through the arch, she smiled at Sofia who was at the edge of the armchair watching another daily episode of her telenovelas, with Santana lounging on the couch looking bored. Quinn poured herself a glass of water and walked into the living room, resting with her back against the wall.

"What happened?" she asked, as Sofia bit a long, dark red nail.

"Ay, Anita's baby ees no the Padre's, but her seester's novio!" said Sofia, looking scandalized.

"Crazy," Quinn smirked warmly, and took a seat next to Santana.

"I still think she's just smuggling a beach ball under her dress," said Santana, unimpressed.

Sofia ignored her, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Sofia, can I ask you something?" asked Quinn.

Sofia tore her eyes away from her soap opera and blinked at Quinn. "Yes, Queen?"

"It's more of a favour actually. Tomorrow night is Parents' Day at my school, and... I was wondering if you'd like to go. As my parent."

Quinn kept her eyes on the red mauve carpet as she waited for an answer, feeling Sofia and Santana's eyes on her.

"Of course, Queen," Sofia finally smiled.

Quinn looked up and a genuine smile crept onto her face. "Really?"

"It would be an honor," Sofia grinned, and turned back to her television program.

Santana, however, held a tight lipped frown on her face as her eyes darted between the other two women, watching their pleasant exchange. Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she sighed.

"It's getting dark," said Santana, "I'm going out."

"Are you sure, mija?" asked Sofia, "Legally Blonde is on tonight. Jou know how I love that movie. I thought we could watch it together."

"Sorry, Tia Sofia. Brittany is performing at some open mic night thing."

"I can watch it with you, Sofia," Quinn smiled from the couch.

"Gracias, Queen," Sofia smiled.

"You two have fun," Santana said dully and left the house.

xxx

The Bronze was alive with energy at Open Mic Night, as a crowd of people got ready for tonight's lineup of young talent. Buffy Summers' only regret was that she had to spend it with her nose stuck in a book.

"La vaca que toca me de jueves," she stated confidently, looking up from her book to Rachel across the table.

Rachel bit her bottom lip. "You said, 'the cow should touch me on Thursday'."

"...Maybe that's what I was going for."

"You said it wrong."

Buffy frowned and her shoulders deflated. "Soy un perdedor."

"You're just not focused," said Rachel, and her eyes lit up at something over Buffy's shoulder, "Maybe you could put your efforts towards something else."

"Huh?"

"Sam Evans just walked in."

Buffy looked over her shoulder to see Sam Evans indeed entering the Bronze in his McKinley letterman jacket and a pair of jeans, the universal outfit of McKinley jocks, accept that his hair was bright blonde and brushed over his forehead in an attempted Bieber 'do.

"Ugh," Buffy uttered, reluctant to talk to him since their last meeting.

"Come on, you promised to do the best you could," said Rachel, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Buffy sighed and got off of her seat reluctantly. "I'll be back."

She straightened her posture and headed for the boy who looked a little lost amongst the circles of people gathered to watch their friends perform.

"Did you come here alone?"

Sam looked down at Buffy taken aback. "You're that girl..."

"That's me. Buffy, the nutjob. Look, I wanted to apologize for the last time we met. I was being kind of rude."

"I thought you were kind of cool, actually. You know, until you got bored and ditched," shrugged Sam, grinning crookedly with his full lips.

"Again, I'm really sorry about that," Buffy smiled sheepishly, "I'm not normally so flaky, you know. I'm actually quite sane on occasion. It's just, at that point I was sort of going through... a funk."

"It happens," Sam smiled, "I thought you'd just been repulsed by my dancing."

"No," Buffy chuckled, "You were fine. A little stiff, but, whatever."

"Stiff, huh? Well, why don't I take you on the dance floor and show you exactly how stiff I can get."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, her mouth rising in an involuntary smile of amusement. "Um..."

"Oh, that's- That's not what I... I don't talk to girls a lot."

Buffy had to laugh as Sam's cheeks turned pink. "I'll still accept the challenge."

Sam smiled wide and took Buffy's hand, leading her out into the dance floor during an up-tempo Katy Perry song. While he was no longer stiff, he was indeed the dorkiest dancer Buffy had ever seen, exhibiting moves such as the robot and the shimmy. Buffy couldn't get through the song without laughing, and Sam had a smile plastered on his face the whole time, clearly proud that he had made a girl laugh. The song ended, and another McKinley pupil got up to sing something slow. Sam nervously put his hands on Buffy's waist, and she threw her arms over his shoulders, smiling as they swayed to the music, not a word between them but a lot of grinning and doe eyes.

It wasn't until Buffy overheard someone in the background call out, "Where's the phone? I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite someone."

"I have to go," she said quickly to Sam, and tore away from him, working her way through the crowd, once again leaving the boy standing in the middle of a dance floor looking lost and confused.

In the alley outside the Bronze, the culprit was standing over a frail teenage girl, about to lunge at her neck with his fangs, a low growl in the back of his throat. Buffy clutched on to his shoulders and threw him to the ground. He bounced back up.

"Slayer," he growled, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"Slayee," quipped Buffy as the victim fled.

She swiftly kicked the vamp in his wrinkled face and he hit the wall with a thud.

"Spike, give me a hand," he grunted just before Buffy sank a stake into his heart while he was down.

He flailed a bit, clutching at his chest until he burst into dust. She sighed. Another one bites the dust, she thought, and hoped Sam was still in there and would be susceptible to a bad lie. She paused, though, as she heard a slow clap starting behind her, and she whipped her head around to see a man approaching from the darkness, his cropped hair bleached white blonde and gelled back, cloaked with a long leather trench coat.

"Nice work, love," he said in a cockney English accent.

"Who are you?"

"You'll find out on Saturday."

"What happens on Saturday?"

"I kill you."

Buffy blinked and he was already drifting away back into the shadows, eerily quiet.

xxx

"Buffy!"

"It's not my fault! There was a vampire that needed slaying. I couldn't let some girl die because I wanted to dance with a cute guy."

Rachel leaned against the choir room's piano and pursed her lips petulantly. She squeezed some halved lemons into a plastic punch bowl that was balanced on the surface of the piano.

"Why didn't you just go back when you were done?"

"I told you, I went to Tina's so I could tell her about that Spike guy. I was distracted! He was creepy and I needed information on him before he carried out his promise. He made me forget all about Sam."

Rachel shook her head, disapprovingly. "You didn't even come back to watch my closing number."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," sighed Buffy, "But it was important, and I've heard you sing a thousand times. I'm sure Kurt recorded it."

Rachel nodded. "I suppose," she shrugged stubbornly, "Spike, is it? That's a little weird."

"Tina couldn't find a thing on him," Buffy shook her head.

"Maybe he used to go by another name. Spike doesn't sound like something you'd name your child."

"Whoever he is, I'm sure we'll need all the help we can get on Saturday," Buffy sighed.

The others behind her sat on their plastic chairs, whittling stakes and sharpening knives, save for Puck and Piper who left when school ended and Parents' Day was being set up. Rachel dumped cups of sugar into her lemonade and stirred vigorously as Mr. Schuester checked his watch.

"Oh, dear," he muttered.

"What is it?" asked Buffy.

"It's time," he said, and left the choir room with his briefcase in hand.

"Wh-What?" asked Buffy, and looked at Rachel who was checking her own watch, and grinning.

"It's starting," she smiled excitedly and picked up her bowl of punch, carrying it out of the room.

"Oh, no," Buffy groaned.

xxx

Mr. Schuester picked at his nails from behind his desk as two men took a seat, one tall and lanky African American with a toothbrush moustache and one short, balding man with jam jar glasses.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mr. Berry," Will nodded at Rachel's smiling parents.

"Nice to see you, too. Our Rachel tells us wonderful things about you," smiled Hiram, straightening his glasses on his crooked nose.

"Oh, well, I'm glad," Mr. Schuester blushed.

"Although she does tell us you need to assert yourself more," nodded LeRoy.

"And be open to more opinions," Hiram added.

"Yes, well, thank you for the input, but let's talk about Rachel, hm?"

"Of course," nodded Hiram, "How is Rachel doing academically?"

"Excellent," Will nodded, "She has a knack for picking things up easily."

"That's our girl," smiled LeRoy, "Did you know she won her first dance competition when she was three months old?"

"We enrolled her in every arts program to give her a competitive edge," Hiram nodded proudly, "Obviously it's paid off."

"Our baby was born to become a star," said LeRoy.

"Right," said Will, "Then maybe it's her extra curriculars we should talk about more so than her classes. I direct McKinley's glee club-"

"Oh, Rachel has told us all about it! She says you do a fine job, but you might want to work on your talent scouting," said Hiram.

"Excuse me?"

"Hiram just means that Rachel thinks that the more talented members of the group should be awarded solos more often."

"No offense, Mr. and Mr. Berry, but Rachel would say that because she believes she's the most talented performer in our group. She definitely is extremely talented, but I like to give some of the other kids some room to shine. Rachel doesn't tend to think that way. It could be because she's an only child."

"Oh, Rachel has always been... exuberant," said Hiram.

"We've talked to her before about sharing the spotlight, but... How do I put this?" LeRoy asked himself thoughtfully, "Rachel is like Tinkerbell. She needs applause to live."

xxx

Principal Figgins heart rate rapidly rose from behind his desk as Mr. And Mrs. Cohen-Chang took a seat opposite him. Mr. Chang was the spitting image of his daughter, save for the corsets. Mrs. Cohen, however, had a pale, freckled face and light brown hair.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Figgins," smiled Mr. Chang, leaning against Figgins' desk and stretching out his hand.

Figgins simply looked at it, a deep frown on his face.

"The pleasure's all mine," he said flatly, and Mr. Chang sat down next to his wife.

The couple looked almost as eclectic as their daughter, Mr. Chang wearing a torn Frankie Says Relax shirt and a bunch of mardi gras beads, and Mrs. Cohen wearing a floor length, dark purple dress, some of the collar ripped off and tied around her forehead. Figgins frowned. They didn't look like vampires. They looked like hippies.

"Let's just get down to it, shall we?" Mr. Chang smiled, "We already know how excellent Tina's grades are. She's a very smart girl. We're just hoping that she's not putting too much pressure on herself to excel."

Mrs. Cohen nodded in agreement. "She says her grades don't come as much of a struggle, but I couldn't imagine getting all As when I was in high school. It just sounds like she's really exerting herself. She's studying something all the time."

"My parents and grandparents have this view that a B is known as an 'Asian F'. Anything less than an A is no good to them. But that's the exact reason why I have such a strained relationship with my parents. I don't want to raise Tina the same way. I want her to feel free to chase any dream she wants."

Figgins' eyes darted between the two parents, breaking a sweat.

"Mr. Figgins?"

A bead of sweat dripped down Figgins' head, and he wiped it away with his shaking hand, his eyes wide with fear.

"Please leave now," he said, gulping.

"Excuse me...?" asked Mr. Chang.

"Back!" Figgins suddenly said, grabbing a string of garlic cloves from under his desk and shoving it into Mr. and Mrs. Cohen-Chang's faces.

"Okay..." Mr. Chang said, wide eyed, and clasped his wife's hand, leaving the office.

xxx

Carole Hudson rushed to Ms. Pillsbury's office in her cleanest pair of jeans and a loose fitting, blue blouse.

"Sorry I'm late," she smiled apologetically as she took a seat opposite Emma, "I had to stay at work a little later than I expected."

"It's no problem, Mrs. Hudson," Emma smiled, and straightened out Finn's report cards on the surface of the desk.

"So, I guess we should get right into this. How is Finn doing?"

Emma sighed and clasped her hands together. "Well... He really is excelling at his extra curriculars."

"But his grades?"

"Well... He is a little behind."

Carole sighed, exhausted and disappointed. "Is there anything I can do? I can't tell if he's really having trouble or if he's just not applying himself."

"Honestly, Mrs. Hudson, it could be a little of both."

"I just don't know how to get through to him."

"Well, if I'm being honest, I used to think that his extra curriculars are just a hindrance to his grades, but since he's joined glee club, well, I've never seen him more energetic and involved and... passionate."

Carole smiled warmly, her eyes on her lap. "He always did love music. He used to sing to me when he was younger, but he stopped. I guess becoming a teenager you sort of leave that stuff behind... I'm glad he found music again. I haven't seen him this passionate about something that wasn't a first person shooter game."

"Well, he does have a great teacher," smiled Ms. Pillsbury.

"I'm glad he has these people in his life now, to influence him. His new girlfriend is like the model student. His new friends are so polite. Not like his friends last year," Carole sighed, "I still worry about him."

"You shouldn't. He's a good kid."

"I know, I know. It's just when they're this age, it feels like you have such little control over who they're turning out to be."

"Then you're lucky, because Finn's turning out to be just fine."

Carole nodded, grateful. "I am lucky. It's just... it's hard."

"What is?"

"Being a single parent."

Emma smile sadly at Mrs. Hudson, when another figure appeared at the door.

"I'm sorry, Carole, I don't have any more time, but if you ever want to talk, I'll always be here."

"Thank you," Carole smiled brightly, regaining her composure.

As she left the room, another parent entered, a baseball cap fitted onto his head.

"Take a seat, Mr. Hummel," Emma offered with a smile.

Burt Hummel grunted and took a seat, reaching over to briefly shake Emma's hand.

"You're the guidance counselor, huh?" he asked.

"I am."

"The kids talk to you when they have... problems?"

"Sometimes."

"Has Kurt ever talked to you? I don't want to invade his privacy or anything but, I worry about him, you know?"

"You shouldn't," Emma waved flippantly, "Kurt is an amazing student. His knack for French is awe inspiring, truly. And that's not to mention glee club. He has the most beautiful voice."

"I know, he's a great kid. I just don't know if he's... happy."

"He seems happy to me, Mr. Hummel," shrugged Emma.

"No, I know. He seems happy to me, too. I just don't know if that's for real or not. I mean, it has to be difficult for him. Being him, in a town like this."

"Children can be cruel, Mr. Hummel, but Kurt can take care of himself. He's smart, confident and wildly talented. He'll survive in this world."

"It's him surviving high school I'm worried about. It's just... it's hard."

"Being a single parent?"

"Being gay. I remember how we used to treat the gay guys in high school. We were idiots. Bullies. I just don't want Kurt to have to suffer in silence. I wish I could help. I just don't know how."

Emma looked at her hands. "All we can do is be there for him."

"And you'll always be there for him?"

"I promise."

xxx

"My dads are still doing the rounds," Rachel said, plopping down on a wicker sofa in the school lounge.

"I'm just waiting for my mom to come back from talking to... whoever," Buffy replied with a groan, "I feel a serious grounding coming on."

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Buffy?"

"Oh, jeez," Buffy groaned and rose from her seat as her mother approached, "Hey, Mom."

"I just spoke to some of your teachers."

"And?"

"I only got through your principal, your guidance counselor and your Spanish teacher, and they all had a lot of praise for you."

"They did?"

"They did. So much so that it's a little suspicious," Joyce raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?" Buffy asked, deflated.

"Yeah. Despite your grades, they didn't say a word against you."

"Well, you've already been through three, what more input would any other teacher be able to give? Let's just call it a night. What do you say?"

"Nice try, Buffy. I intend to talk to your Math teacher."

Joyce walked away in the direction of Mrs. Jackson's classroom, as Tina approached.

"How are things going?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," groaned Buffy.

"At least Principal Figgins isn't afraid of your parents," sighed Tina.

"Why would Principal Figgins be afraid of your parents?"

"Remember last year when he made me give up my Gothic clothes?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I may have threatened him to let me where them again by saying that my father was a vampire who would drink his... his curry blood."

"Tina!"

"It was for my freedom!"

Buffy shook her head and smirked. "I'm a bad influence on you."

"Who is that?" Rachel rushed to the girls and hissed, her eyes staring at the entrance.

Buffy and Tina turned their heads to see Quinn Fabray entering in a docile pink day dress and a matching headband, with a taller woman behind her. Olive skinned and raven haired, the busty woman had red lipstick slathered on her lips and a matching hue on her nails. She spoke with Quinn for a moment with a warm smile and disappeared into a classroom.

"Quinn!" Rachel called, and Quinn sauntered over with a suspicious frown.

"What?" she asked.

"Who did you bring to Parents' Day?" asked Rachel, her eyes lingering where the woman disappeared.

"Oh, that's just Sofia," Quinn smiled.

"And Sofia is...?"

"Santana mom."

The other's blinked at her, confused.

"I mean, her aunt. I have to go."

Quinn sped away in her ballet flats, her blonde hair bouncing behind her.

"...That was weird," said Tina, as the others watched her storm away.

Just as they turned around, the windows in the lounge crashed open, sending shards spraying through the room. Parents, teachers and students screamed and shielded themselves from the broken glass as several vampires bust through, weapons in hand and snarling, wrinkled faces. One vampire led them all, his face contorted into a demon's, but his bleached hair and long, leather duster were unmistakable.

"Spike," Buffy whispered to herself, her heartbeat rising rapidly.

"What can I say?" he snarled, "I couldn't wait."


	29. The Parents

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

****Everyone at McKinley is getting ready for Parents' Day.

**Quinn: Tomorrow night is Parents' Day at my school, and... I was wondering if you'd like to go. As my parent.**

**Sofia: Of course, Queen.**

But that's not all that's happening this weekend.

**Will: My friend April Rhodes called me last night to tell me that according to her calculations, Saturday night is the night of St. Vigeous.**

**[…]**

**Buffy: Well, if my slaying doesn't get me expelled then I promise my studying won't get me killed.**

There's also some creepy blond guy named Spike in town.

**Buffy: Who are you?**

**Spike: You'll find out on Saturday.**

**Buffy: What happens on Saturday?"**

**Spike: I kill you.**

Whoa. And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

Buffy blinked at the gaping wall of broken glass, barely noticing the flurry of screaming and running around her. Spike - the mysterious man from the night before - was standing among the rubble, his bleached hair slicked back and shining under the dim light, flanked by several other monsters, all of their faces wrinkled and their sharp fangs bared. Buffy stood stock still until their blonde leader lunged forward, his eyes wild and ready to kill. Buffy acted quick and gripped the back of a wicker armchair in the lounge and hit Spike over the head with it, knocking him down and stalling him long enough for her to escape to somewhere safer with a few panicked parents and teachers. She grabbed her mother's hand and ran in the other direction, spreading out wide to shepherd the brunt of the victims away. Leading a small group of people farther and farther away from the lounge, she heard Spike shout, "Nobody gets out! Especially the girl!" and as she approached the entrance of the school with her group, vampires approached to guard the doors, snarling and smiling maniacally.

"Everybody this way! Come on!" called Buffy, not bothering to look back at who she was leading, but trusting that they would follow her as she led them into an empty classroom, hastily locking the door behind her.

She threw her back against the door, feeling the heavy pushes of the vampires behind it. Her mother helped her shove a bookcase in front of it, and Buffy sighed heavily, looking behind her at the small crowd she had accumulated. Among the group of adults were Rachel's fathers, who Buffy had met quite often, Tina's parents, who Buffy had met considerably less often, and an Asian couple, who Buffy was meeting for the first time.

Buffy bit her bottom lip, her stomach turning uneasily when she realized that none of her friends were with her. As the lights went out and the group began to whimper with fear, all Buffy could do was hope that her friends were safe, and press on.

"Who are those people? What do they want?" Hiram asked to no one in particular, his brown eyes wide with fear behind his jam jar glasses.

"I didn't get a good look at them," said Joyce as Buffy kept the bookcase steady against the door, "Is there something wrong with their faces?"

"Vampires!" said Mrs. Cohen, clutching her husband's arm.

"That's nonsense," said the older Asian man, dressed in a smart business suit, "It's a gang. I'll bet they're on PCP. We have to get out of here."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "I think we should stay right where we are."

"What would you know? You're just a kid," said the man, frowning at Buffy.

"And you are?"

"I'm Michael Chang, Sr., and as an adult, I think I should take control of this situation and leave!"

Mike Chang, Sr., picked up a classroom chair and set it against the window, climbing on top and attempting to pry the window open.

"You can't go outside! They'll kill you!" Buffy shouted at the man.

"You don't tell me, young lady! I tell you!"

Buffy grabbed Mr. Chang, Sr., by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down from the chair.

"They will kill everybody in this room," Buffy said gravely, "Nobody comes in. Nobody gets out. Until I say so. Do you hear me?"

"Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the one who knows how to stop them," Buffy shrugged, and raised her head to inspect the ceiling.

With the other adults gaping at her, she climbed onto a table and removed the lid from a vent in the ceiling.

"Buffy, are you crazy?" asked Joyce, rushing to the side of the table, "I know you have a history of violence, but those guys are serious. You can't go out there."

"I know. That's why I'm going up there," Buffy nodded to the vent and reached inside, splaying her hands against the warm metal and lifting herself up.

Once she was in the cramped, square space, she stuck her head back down the vent, blond hair falling over her eyes.

"Don't worry, Mom," she said, brushing the locks of hair out of her face.

xxx

The halls of McKinley were quiet and empty, only the moonlight to illuminate the checkered linoleum tiles.

"Oh, Slayer," Spike called softly, his face contorted and wrinkled, and the sound of his heavy combat boots thudding against the floor, "Here kitty, kitty. I'll find one of your friends first and I'm gonna suck 'em dry, and use their bones to bash your head in. Are you getting a word picture 'ere?"

Despite the silence, a few were listening intently to the sinister vampire's warning. From the other side of a custodial closet, Sofia Lopez trembled, holding a broomstick close to her chest.

"Ay, dios mio," she whispered to herself, and Quinn laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her calm and still, but she was having trouble keeping her own heart steady.

She looked back at the other residents of the closet, her eyes searching for some sort of reassurance in their faces. She scanned the expressions of the others, ranging from scared stiff to boiling rage. Mr. Hummel's face was red and his lips were pursed, seemingly outraged that he was confined to a closet while tyrants ran amuck outside. She could tell that he would rather be out there, fighting. Rachel's soft face was strangely more serene, but then again, it always seemed to be. Quinn's eyes traced Rachel's slightly knitted eyebrows and trembling pink lips, and for one moment, they're eyes met, and Rachel seemed to smile at Quinn, ever so slightly, struggling to give the girl the reassurance she could sense that she needed. Quinn smiled back, thankfully, and the two girls' eyes trailed away to the fifth person in the room. Tina Cohen-Chang was not angry, nor scared, but rather intensely engrossed in the glowing screen of her iPhone.

"Tina, this is neither the time, nor the place, don't you think?" Rachel asked quietly, slightly offended.

Tina looked up, and blinked at her friend. "Oh, no. I'm researching."

"Did you find anything?" asked Quinn.

Tina leaned in seriously, her head close enough so that only Quinn and Rachel could hear her.

"Spike, that blonde guy? He wasn't always known by that name. He used to be called William the Bloody, but he got his new nickname by torturing his victims with railroad spikes."

"Gruesome," Quinn frowned.

"That's not all. He fought two slayers in the last century... And killed them both."

Rachel took a sharp intake of breath and Quinn bit her bottom lip. "What do we do?" asked Rachel.

"We don't do anything," Quinn hissed, "We stay here and keep safe."

"What about Buffy?"

"Buffy can take care of herself."

Rachel didn't like it, but she didn't argue, leaning back into the closet and continuing to wring her hands together.

"We have to go get help," Burt said gruffly, voicing the opinion that Quinn Fabray didn't want to hear.

"We have to stay here where it's safe until they go away," Quinn said calmly.

"And when will that be? My son's out there!" he hissed, dangerously loud.

"Please, Mr. Hummel-" whimpered Rachel.

"No, I'm going out there. Nobody pushes the Hummels around," said Burt, pushing past Sofia to push the door slightly ajar, poking his round head out to make sure that no one was lurking through the halls.

"Mr. Hummel, wait!" said Tina, fishing through the pocket of her black rain jacket.

She removed a sharp wooden stake from the pocket and tossed it to Burt, who wore a confused look on his face, eyeing the weapon in horror, hoping he'll never have to use it. Nevertheless, he gripped it tightly and tucked it carefully in his sleeve before shutting the thin door behind him, and leaving the four frightened women inside.

xxx

Joyce began to bite her nails, and habit that had been dormant for the better part of a year. She stood still in the dark empty classroom, as did neighbors of hers that were probably just as frightened for their children's safety as she was for Buffy's. The only thing that shook her out of her scared silence was the sudden swing of an axe hitting the classroom door, the sharp red metal poking right through the thin imitation wood with a booming crack.

Joyce gasped and the other parents whimpered and clutched their spouses. Joyce bit her lip, almost piercing the skin as she heard several other booming cracks from out in the southern hall. Those booming cracks happened to be two meter length sharp wooden sticks that Spike and another cohort were shoving in the ceiling in various places, trying to spear the slayer in the vents. Unfortunately for the vampires in the southern hall, the slayer wasn't anywhere near them. She came crashing down from the ceiling just outside the classroom that held her mother captive. The vampire wielding the axe turned around, confused, as Buffy plunged a stake into his heart. As the remnants of the vampire floated away as dust particles out of the limited sight of Joyce Summers, Buffy leaned against the classroom door and peered inside the jagged hole left by the axe, only to see her mother's identical eyes staring back at her.

"Buffy, are you okay?" Joyce asked urgently.

"I'm fine, Mom," Buffy replied, mustering as much calm into her voice as she could manage.

"Buffy, get out of here, we'll be alright!"

Buffy looked left and right before grabbing at the door knob and forcibly ripping the door off its hinges.

"Come on!" she called to her mother and the others, who flooded out of the classroom.

She shoved her mom in the direction of the entrance and yelled, "Get out of here!"

"You're coming, too," said Joyce.

"Go!"

Leaving her mother behind, Buffy rushed down through the other hallway.

"Buffy!" Joyce called after her, but Buffy didn't turn back.

xxx

The only weapon in the world that Kurt Hummel had was his cell phone, and he clutched it to his heart, knowing how truly useless it was out of the social realm. Even with a fairly close connection to a vampire slayer, somehow Kurt was still on the outside looking in. He was one of a minority in glee club who didn't own a stake issued to him by the slayer herself, and he couldn't exactly shoot fireballs from his dainty porcelain hands like a certain Ms. Fabray. He'd often wished that he could be a proper member of the scoobies, not condemned to the life of a gay stock character. But right now, the one thing he wished was that his dad was safe, because the lord - or Patti Lupone - knows that that man has had enough grief for one lifetime.

Kurt held his cell phone to his scrawny chest as he hid in a custodial closet and sat on a turned over mop bucket. Brittany Pierce, his only company for the night, pressed her ear against the closet door.

"I don't think anyone's out there, Britt," said Kurt, who'd been watching the blonde listening intently for the better part of an hour.

"You're right," Brittany sighed, and stood up, flattening down her Cheerios skirt, "I guess it's just me and you, stuck in the closet."

"Am I the only one who sees the irony in this situation?"

"Wait, Kurt, if there's no one out there, then we can probably leave, right? There's no one to stop us."

"I think we should just wait for Buffy..."

"Come on!" said Brittany, who'd already opened the door and rushed out into the empty hall.

"Brittany, wait!" Kurt hissed, and leaped off of the upturned bucket, rushing out to grab Brittany by the hand.

The Cheerio tended to evoke a certain protectiveness from the people who knew her, mainly because either people wanted to be her, screw her, or simply thought she needed a helping hand in the world what with the intellectual capacity she'd been limited with. Kurt, however, didn't find her endearing for any of those reasons. He didn't want to be her, he most definitely didn't want to screw her, and even though she had a reputation as an airhead, Kurt knew very well that someone with her powerful influence and athletic ability would make it just fine in the world. The only reason Kurt felt protective over Brittany was because she meant something to him. Brittany Pierce was Kurt Hummel's first kiss. Yes, it was when Kurt was stuck in a more metaphorical closet and was shrouded in denial, but it still meant something. They were friends, so to speak.

"C'mon, Kurt, there's no one around," Brittany smiled encouragingly, tightening her grip on his hand.

"Brittany, watch out," he said suddenly, attempting to step forward and shield him from the vampire that had come bounding down the hall.

With Brittany behind him, the vampire lashed out with sharp fingernails and slashed red, bloody marks into Kurt's arm. He winced in pain until he heard a man shouting, "Hey!"

Before he knew what was happening, Burt Hummel rammed a sharp wooden stake into the vampire's back, grazing his heart as the vampire disintegrated into dust. Burt looked down at the dust falling to the floor in a small heap, his mouth hanging open and the sound of his pulse loud in his ears.

"Dad..." said Kurt, breathless, as Burt's eyebrows knitted together and he clutched at his own chest, words failing to fall out of his gaping mouth as he fell to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

"Dad!" Kurt yelled, rushing to his father's side.

Burt's pain was washed over by a millisecond of relief, before he fell to the floor on his face, completely unconscious. Brittany whimpered nearby as Kurt attempted to lift his father, and failed.

"Dad!" he cried again, close to hot tears. He had to blink them away and barely noticed as a neighbor, Carole Hudson, came rushing down the hall and into his blurry vision.

"What happened?" she asked, her hand on Burt Hummel's back.

"Kurt's dad fell down and he can't get up," said Brittany, nervously pulling at her hair.

"It's okay, Kurt, we'll get him out of here. It'll be okay," Carole promised.

xxx

Something stopped Spike from his stalky pacing around the school. A smell in the air, perhaps, that he sniffed as he held a sharp, long, wooden stick in both hands. Something that was just as sweet as it was... dangerous? He smiled to himself.

"Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a nice, ripe... girl."

He turned around to be faced with the slayer as he expected. Down the hall, holding a thick red axe and looking much smaller and cuter than the other slayers he'd killed, even when caked in dust and sweat.

"Do we really need weapons for this?" she asked, her voice unusually calm. Playful, even.

"I just like them," Spike smiled sinisterly, "They make me feel all manly."

They smiled at each other for a brief moment in the dull darkness before he threw aside his stick and Buffy tossed the axe a few feet behind her, landing with a heavy clink.

"The last slayer I killed, she begged for her life. You don't strike me as the begging kind," Spike noted as the two walked nearer, slowly.

"You shouldn't have come here," she said, just a few feet away, her voice light and soft.

"No," Spike laughed, looking over at the wreckage of the school lounge, "I messed up your doilies and stuff. I just got so bored. I'll tell you what. As a personal favor, from me to you, I'll make it quick. It won't hurt a bit."

"No, Spike. It's gonna hurt a lot."

Spike threw a backhanded punch into the air as Buffy swiftly ducked down, and as she kicked at his feet, he jumped up. They fought in a smooth rhythm back and forth, snagging only light jabs at each other, until Spike bested her, knocking her to the ground with a swift kick to her stomach. She lied down, winded and bruised, as he pulled a panel of wood from the wall, and lifted it into the air, only to have his head hit with the blunt side of an axe.

Buffy lifted her head, astonished to see her mother standing over the vampire with an axe in her hand.

"You get the hell away from my daughter," she threatened gravely.

Spike angrily surveyed the two of them before grunting, "Women!" and fleeing back out through the broken window in which he came. Joyce sighed in relief as he left, and dropped the axe.

"Nobody lays a hand on my little girl," Joyce said, her voice shaky, and pulled Buffy into a tight hug.

xxx

As always, the Lima Police and ambulances showed up a little too late to the scene of the crime, but thankfully, everyone was okay as they flooded out of the school and into the arms of loved ones they'd been separated from. Crowds passed as Principal Figgins urged to the police chief that vampires were responsible while Mr. Chang, Sr., assured him that it was gang on PCP.

"So this was another interesting evening," Emma Pillsbury squeaked in quite a small voice as she watched the commotion from the steps of the high school.

"You know, I will understand if you want to start avoiding me," said Will, running his fingers through his copper curls.

Emma didn't reply, but smiled tiredly and slid her arm through his, making the man blush. They briefly passed Buffy and her mother as they stood side by side and watched the others flee.

"So this will probably be your last parent teacher night ever," said Buffy.

"You've got that right. And not even because of that murderous gang, which I'll admit, is a contributing factor, but the main thing is that you're grades are abysmal and I could care less."

"Come again?" Buffy raised her eyebrow at her mother.

"I have a daughter who can take care of herself, who is brave and resourceful and thinks of others in a crisis. No matter who you hang out with, or what dumb teenage stuff you think you need to do, I'm going to sleep better knowing all that."

"So how long 'til this wears off and you start ragging on me again?" Buffy asked with a smirk.

"Oh, at least a week and a half."

"Very cool."

From still inside the now almost empty school, Sofia Lopez knelt on the rough carpet of the janitor's closet with her hands clasped together as Tina, Rachel and Quinn slumped against the walls, feeling a collective migraine coming on.

"...an' Dios, eef you get me an' Queen an' Tina an' Raquel out of thees, I promees to never be malo to no one, not a soul, even that tacky pant suit wearing beetch that married mi hermano unless she insults my bonuelos juan more time, OR, if eet's tha time of tha month, an' if it is, no jou or no one else can hold me responsible por what I say an' do-"

"Ask for some aspirin," groaned Quinn.

"-An' Dios, por favor, send Queen some asp-... 'ey!"

After the four women tiresomely realized that the danger had been averted, they found their way to their respective parents and Quinn and Sofia found their way home with tired eyes and gurgling stomachs. Unfortunately, the first thing they met in the wide foyer of the large Lopez house was Santana Lopez in the hallway with her arms folded over her chest and her eyes wildly darting between the two.

"Where were you?" she demanded loudly.

"Santana, chill, we were held up-" said Quinn.

"It's just a parent teacher meeting. It doesn't last until the small hours of a school night."

"Okay, MOM," Quinn sternly stressed, "If you must know, there was a vampire attack."

All traces of anger left Santana's face for a moment, but just a moment. "Why didn't you call me? I could have helped! Is everyone okay? Is Brittany okay?"

"Everyone is fine, even Brittany. I called her. She went to a hospital-"

"A hospital?"

"She's okay! It wasn't her; it was Kurt Hummel's dad. He got hurt or something-"

"You should have called!"

"Jeez, Santana, we didn't think about it. We're fine, thanks for asking."

"Ay, Santana, just come into the cocina and I make you sometheen to eat," said Sofia.

"I don't want anything to eat! I never do and I never will!" Santana shouted, and balled up her fists, running up the marble staircase before anyone could stop her.

"I go to her," Sofia nodded worriedly.

"No, it's okay. I'll go up," Quinn shook her head, astonished at Santana's behavior.

She briefly wondered if mood swings were a symptom of a malnourished vampire, and she'd have to get Santana to make more regular visits to the butcher. She trotted upstairs and decided against knocking on Santana's bedroom door as she'd surely get a, "Go away!" with the girl in such a fowl mood. Instead, Quinn opted for walking right in unannounced and plopping down on the edge of the bed while Santana paced her dark bedroom with a frown on her face.

"What are you getting so worked up for?" Quinn asked calmly.

"What do you think? Everything's all Quinn and Sofia these days. You watch your dumb movies together and you cook together and what, now she's your legal guardian? Are you gonna go to some mother daughter dance now?"

"Is that even a thing?"

"Who cares? My point is, I'm night-crawling, blood-sucking lesbionic Santana and you two are like... Wiccan Barbie and that one ethnic Bratz doll."

Quinn placed her hand over her knee. "I think you're overreacting," she said.

Santana sighed, and rested her hands on her hips, raising her chin in the air.

"I think you're right," she said wearily and took a seat next to Quinn on the edge of the bed.

"Maybe Sofia and I do spend a lot of time together, but she's all I have, just like you," shrugged Quinn.

"I just wish... I mean, you only get one mom. Most people anyways. Sure, some don't have any, some get to have two, but most of us get the one, and it's hard knowing that I had my mom and now I don't and I never got to have... closure. Know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean."

"Right. Sometimes I forget how similar we are. Which brings me to the point that we have a history of having... territorial issues. Sometimes I feel like we fight because we're in each other's way. I have a problem with sharing, I know that. So I get jealous. I got jealous when you got head cheerleader and I didn't. I got jealous when you slept with Puckerman, even after I dumped him. And now I'm getting jealous of you and Sofia."

"Santana, you don't need to feel that way."

"I know... I don't know what it is, Q. It's like I've always wanted a mom who loved me more than anything else in the world and Sofia is the closest thing I'll ever get to that."

Quinn stared at her denim clothed knee and knitted her eyebrows nervously. "Santana... What you want, you have."

"I know, I know, Sofia is just like the mom of my dreams-"

"No, Santana, Sofia _is _the mom of your reality."

"Okay, sure, but-"

"No, Santana, listen..."

Santana looked up from the carpet and into Quinn's troubled, cactus green eyes.

"Quinn..."

"I promised not to tell."

"...Oh my God... Sofia's not... Sofia is. She is, isn't she?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I... I promised."

Santana's eyes dropped to the floor. "I knew it," she whispered to herself.


	30. The Exhibit

a/n: If anyone else is wondering the very good questions posed by ScorpioP, here are your answers: 1, While Santana is pleased that Sofia is in fact her real mother, it doesn't cause her true happiness because it comes with the realization that a lot of her life has been a lie and her small, unorthodox family of the present has been harboring serious secrets. 2, There is in fact backstory attached to Burt Hummel staking a vampire, and I'm impressed that you caught that. That information should be revealed later this 'season'. 3, Drusilla will definitely be in the story later, and I might introduce Angel and Darla in flashbacks, but the chances are slim that they will make it into the story. Also, Mayor Richard Wilkins will most likely not be in this story, but that doesn't mean there isn't someone like him working a similiar cause, and yes, Mike Chang, Sr., will be affiliated with him. Thank you for all your questions and reviews, everyone! I really appreciate it.

xxx

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

Santana found out that her aunt Sofia isn't really her aunt at all.

**Quinn: You're Santana's mother.**

Kurt's dad staked a vampire for the first time and had a pretty bad heart attack.

**Carole: It's okay, Kurt, we'll get him out of here. It'll be okay.**

Quinn used to be totally popular but now it seems like everyone likes Buffy better.

**Piper: There's been all this talk of Buffy Summers being the new it girl.**

xxx

"'Ere we are, Queen," Sofia announced happily.

From the passenger seat of Sofia's maroon Toyota, Quinn was in awe of how wide that woman's smile could get. Ignorance is bliss, thought Quinn, who had told Sofia that Santana was just PMS-ing a couple nights ago, when in fact, Quinn had been revealing to the emotional girl that Sofia was her birth mother. Their small family was shrouded in secrets, she thought. Everyone knew that Sofia was Santana's mother but Sofia didn't know that Santana knew. Santana thought that everyone knew about her clause but Sofia never knew. Quinn had thought about sitting them down and telling them the complicated truth, but that was the kind of attention she tended to avoid. What she had with Santana and Sofia was kind of like her do-over family. They were a chance to be apart of something special and not completely ruin it like she tended to do with everything else. and she truly did want to look at Sofia like a mother. Ever since she arrived, the Lopez house had become more of a home and Quinn had started to think that maybe she really did belong there, but those were just passing thoughts.

Over the past couple of days, she had started to think about what Santana said in her bedroom about never having closure from Carmen, the woman who raised her, the woman she thought was her real mother. Perhaps Santana doesn't need to worry about that anymore, but it remained the truth for Quinn. Judy Fabray had sat by idly as her own daughter, pregnant with her granddaughter, was kicked out of her home. What kind of mother does that? wondered Quinn. In a world where she could have kept Beth, she would never have thought of abandoning her the same way. Even though Quinn held little more than contempt for her mother after what happened, she was still her mother, and she was still without closure.

"Thank you, Sofia," said Quinn, looking out of the car window at the Lima Museum.

"Have fon!" Sofia called loudly as Quinn left the car and shut the door behind her, folding her arms across her chest and sulking at the fact that her junior class had to spend a perfectly cloudless day shut up in the Incan, Egyptian and Peruvian section of its oldest museum.

She'd mused taking the day off, not only because of its promise of boredom but because her only school companion of late, Brittany Pierce, was apparently out with mono, an illness that Quinn had just assumed the tall blonde was now immune to. Plus, she was tired. She was woken last night unexpectedly with a strange surge of emotion that she quickly realized was because of her daughter, their strange connection creeping up once more. She feared that when she tried to tell Sofia about these impromptu surges, Sofia hadn't completely understood the severity of it. It was so momentary and yet so forcefully real, she had to wonder if Beth felt it, too. Just as Quinn wanted closure with her own mother, would Beth ever get closure with hers?

Walking up to the bright entrance court, she spotted the familiar backs of four heads she usually saw propped up in the front seats of the choir room. One short blonde, two short brunettes and one boy... Quinn squinted at the masculine figure beside the three inseparable girls. He wasn't the tall, broad shouldered figure of Quinn's ex-boyfriend and Rachel's current one, and he wasn't the lanky, dark haired figure of Tina's hot Asian boyfriend. As Quinn sped up to the foursome she realized it was none other than Kurt Hummel, who'd grown impressively taller since sophomore year, despite his ever present baby face.

"Hey," Quinn said quietly.

"Quinn, you came!" Rachel smiled happily, "So many didn't bother showing up today. Finn decided he would have the flu today."

Quinn rolled her eyes and smirked. Finn had the flu whenever they had a Math quiz. "And Mike?" asked Quinn.

"He actually had a dentist appointment. He's so upset. He was hoping for perfect attendance this year," Tina said, melancholy.

"Even Mercedes just decided not to roll out of bed this morning. I should have stayed home, too. I feel so bad leaving my dad home alone..." Kurt trailed off.

"How is your dad?" Rachel asked, placing a hand on the boy's thin shoulder.

"He's doing okay. I mean, he won't stop complaining about his new diet, but he should be fine. Carole is a huge help."

"Finn's mom is helping your dad?" asked Quinn, who always seemed to cringe when Finn's mother was mentioned.

The woman must hate her after everything that happened last year.

"Yeah, she knows it's just us two in the house so she always wants to help. She's sort of become a regular fixture of the house in the last couple of days," smirked Kurt, "Of course, she's welcome. Not so much like Buffy's new house guest..."

"It's not fair!" whined the slayer, who was wearing over sized sunglasses suited only for LA.

"I don't think it's so bad," shrugged Tina.

"She could have at least warned me," Buffy shook her head.

"Well, a lot of parents are doing it this year," said Rachel.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Quinn.

"We are talking about a complete stranger in my house for two weeks. I'm gonna be insane!" groaned Buffy.

"The foreign exchange program, huh?" smirked Quinn.

From inside the cultural exhibit, the scoobies continued their conversation while peering over ancient Incan neck collars.

"So what does yours look like?" asked Kurt.

"I don't know. Girl like? Her name is Ampata," said Buffy, resting against the glass cases, and looked up as their tour guide began to speak.

"And now we precede into the Incan burial chamber," he said as the rest of their class gathered in front of him, "The human sacrifice is about to begin."

The class oohed ominously as they were led into something called the 'Incan Prince Exhibit'.

"Five hundred years ago, the Incan people chose a handsome teenage boy to become their prince," the tour guide led the class to the transparent coffin of an ancient, shriveled, discolored mummy boy, holding what looked like a very large serving plate.

"They could have at least wrapped him in those white bandages, like in the movies," sighed Rachel.

xxx

Brittany Pierce smiled on top of her Hello Kitty bed covers, her hair becoming tussled as Santana ran her hair through it, positioning herself on top of Brittany's slender body. These occasions had become so rare that Brittany was ecstatic to have found herself being playfully groped by her best friend, her olive hands tracing the contours of Brittany's body and her full, red lips kissing and occasionally licking the soft, creamy skin around her neck, the smell of her blood just under her thin layer of skin intoxicating enough to turn Santana on without her getting dangerous.

"This is nice," Brittany giggled as Santana sunk a little lower to the bottom of Brittany's neck, their clothes riding against each other, Santana's blouse lifting up to expose her toned stomach.

"Mm hm," Santana mumbled, her tongue tracing lyrics over Brittany's skin.

"We never do this anymore. I missed your sweet lady kisses."

Santana's hand inched up under Brittany's shirt in reply, feeling the warm skin over the girl's abdomen.

"Why did you decide to come over again? Did you miss me?"

Santana's lips parted from Brittany's sweet smelling skin, and she laid her head down on Brittany's chest, feeling the excited thud of her heart.

"Yes..." she mumbled, sounding unusually vulnerable and she squeezed her arms around her friend.

"You should come over more often. That way we won't have to miss each other."

Santana sighed and quickly lifted herself off of Brittany, sliding over to the end of the bed, and tying her hair back up.

"This isn't going to be a usual thing, Britt. I already told you," she said irritably, as Brittany rolled on her side and propped her head onto one arm, "I only came over because I needed a distraction."

"From what?" Brittany asked softly.

"Finding out that Sofia is my mother is a major bombshell, Brittany."

"I thought that was a good thing. You always wanted a mom who was pretty and who cooked for you and laughed a lot, and now you have one."

"I know, Britt," Santana sighed, "It is a good thing. It makes a lot of sense, too. That doesn't change the fact that everything is different now. My whole life, my parents haven't really been my parents. I've been raised by my uncle and my aunt. I can't get used to that. How can I? My parents aren't my parents, and what about my father...? I don't even know who he is. He could be anyone! Some teenager who probably split as soon as Sofia told him she was pregnant. Asshole."

"I bet he's really nice and really hot," Brittany smiled optimistically.

Santana rolled her eyes, skeptical. "Some really nice, really hot guy who abandons his pregnant girlfriend and his unborn daughter."

Brittany got up onto her knees on top of the bed and sidled behind Santana, sliding her arms around Santana's stomach and hugging her tightly.

"Let's stop talking about this. It's making you sad," Brittany said in a small, comforting voice, innocently pecking Santana's neck, "Let's give each other some more lady kisses."

Santana hunched her shoulders, shrugging the girl away. She stood up and removed her leather jacket from the back of Brittany's armchair and slid her arms into it.

"I can't, Britt. I'm sorry."

Brittany sulked on her bed as she watched Santana leave through her bedroom window.

xxx

Before Buffy could even make it through the school's parking lot the next day, Rachel caught her arm and pulled her away from the crowds of students, her eyebrows knitted together with worry.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, alarmed.

"One of our classmates never made it home last night," said Rachel, "Rodney Munson?"

"Uh, yeah, I have Biology with him. I'm sure he's alright."

"You're sure? Because when people don't come home at night in Lima, there's usually something wrong."

"You're right. I don't remember seeing him on the bus back from the field trip."

"I didn't either."

Buffy chuckled to herself. "Maybe he awakened the mummy," she laughed to herself.

"Yeah, and it rose from its tomb," Rachel smiled humorously.

"And attacked him," Buffy smiled back, until their eyes met again and their smiles dropped.

"Oh God," groaned Rachel.

"We have to get to the museum."

"It's a half hour walk!"

Buffy groaned. "I don't have a car."

"Neither do I. I don't even have a license yet."

The girls turned around and scoped out the parking lot.

"Kurt!" they called.

xxx

"I seem to be finding myself involved more and more with your slayerly duties this year," said Kurt as he followed the girls into the closed museum, finding their way to the Incan exhibit.

"Lucky that you're one of the few juniors with a car," Buffy said back to him as they walked in, the entrance doors left open.

"As long as we're back in time for glee club," said Rachel, "What? Mr. Schuester said he had an important announcement. Hopefully there won't be much to see here. Maybe Rodney just stepped out for a cigarette. They seem to be the new craze among adolescent delinquents."

"Most of my classmates have been known to take twenty one hour cigarette breaks," Kurt nodded sarcastically.

"They're addictive," mumbled Rachel.

"I wish I brought Tina. She would have been able to tell us if we could rule out any evil curses," said Buffy as they neared the tomb of the Incan prince.

"One day I want to live in a town where evil curses are generally ruled out without having to say so," said Rachel.

"Hey, look," said Kurt, peering into the mummy's grave, "The prince's plate thing is broken."

"Does that mean the mummy is loose?" Rachel asked fearfully.

"No, comfy as ever," Kurt shrugged, looking down at the shriveled, mummified corpse, "What's with all these pictures on the plate?"

He picked up the broken seal from the corpse and inspected the carved pictograms.

"I don't know..." Buffy frowned, "I should show them to Tina."

Rachel looked down at the mummy with trepidation. "Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Were the Incans very advanced?"

"I don't know, Rachel, I wasn't really paying attention yesterday."

"I think they were supposed to be, yeah," shrugged Kurt.

"Did they have orthodontists?" Rachel mused as she looked down at the mummy.

The other two followed her gaze and noticed the small shine of dull silver studs in the mummy's mouth. Braces.

"Is that...? That can't be," Kurt babbled.

"Rodney?"

"He... He looks like he'd been dead for hundreds of years," Buffy shook her head.

Just as Rachel had hoped, the three shaken teenagers made it back to school in time for glee club, although they were less enthusiastic about it after seeing their dead and mummified classmate. They took seats in the choir room before getting a chance to show their findings to Tina or Mr. Schuester, but Buffy gave her Gothic friend a knowing look, and Tina was already bubbling to hear whatever they came across. They would have to wait, however, as Mr. Schuester walked in looking solemn.

"Sorry I'm late, guys. I was with Principal Figgins," he said seriously, "Bad news, guys. Puckerman's in juvie."

"It really was just a matter of time," Tina mumbled as the glee club groaned.

"What did he do?" Quinn demanded, unimpressed.

"Breaking and entering, robbery and indecent exposure," said Will, looking disappointed, "I don't know the details."

"When is he getting out?" asked Rachel.

"Unknown."

"He might be the dumbest person in this planet, and that's coming from me," Brittany shook her head.

"Guys," said Will, "Let's have some sympathy."

"For a guy who put his needs before the teams'?" Finn asked irritably, "We need his voice and his bad boy stage presence."

"We can't look at this as a crisis," said Will, "It's an opportunity."

"For what?" asked Quinn, "Furthering our embarrassment and humiliation."

"For welcoming our new member, Sam Evans," Will smiled and pointed to the door as Sam Evans walked through right on cue, his blond hair bouncing as he trotted up next to Mr. Schuester.

Buffy and Rachel looked at each other in surprise, although Rachel was elated while Buffy was nervous. She was probably the last person Sam Evans wanted to see.

"Hi, everybody, I'm Sam," he said, with a big, dorky smile on his face, "Sam I am. And I don't like green eggs and ham."

The glee club blinked back at him, basking in the awkward silence.

"This is gonna be great," smiled Finn, "You're not gonna regret joining, Sam."

"Good," Sam said a little breathlessly, his eyes landing on Buffy for half a second before he took a seat next to Finn.

"Alright," said Will, writing 'Duets' on his marker board, "Question for the group. What's a duet?"

"A blanket," said Brittany.

"A duet is when two voices join to become one. Great duets are like a great marriage. The singers compliment each other, push each other to be better..."

Buffy received a buzzing, 'Psst!' in here from Kurt, who sat beside her wearing a confident smile.

"He's on Team Gay," said Kurt, nodding to Sam in the front row.

"Wh-What? Are you sure?"

"Come on. No straight boy dyes his hair to look like Linda Evangelista circa 1993."

Buffy smirked, and returned her eyes to the front of the class, shaking her head. No way Sam Evans was gay. No possible way.

"...and I am making this a competition," Mr. Schuester's speech came back into focus.

"What do we win?" asked Mike.

"Dinner for two, on me... at Breadstix."

The group cheered. As the only sort of nice restaurant in town, Breadstix never lost its appeal.

"I know who I'm taking," Kurt said to Buffy and waggled his eyes at the blonde haired boy below them.

Buffy smiled falsely, a twinge of jealousy tensing her shoulders. But she shook her hair back and sighed. Sam Evans is not gay. No way.

xxx

"Hi. I'm Kurt Hummel."

Sam looked up from his cramped locker and pushed his light bangs out of his eyes.

"Hey," he said to the boy who looked too well dressed for high school, in a red and green flannel button up shirt with metal studs glued to the shoulders and a smoothed back, caramel brown hairdo.

"I just wanted to personally welcome you to glee club," Kurt smiled, his greenish blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Thanks," smiled Sam and closed his locker.

"Just tell me," Kurt said bluntly, a smile still on his face.

Sam mouth hung open as he blinked back at the boy questioningly.

"Look," Kurt smirked, "Maybe at your old school you could get away with the, 'I just stayed in the sun all summer' excuse, but I have three gifts. My voice, my ability to spot trends in men's fashion and my ability to know when it comes from a bottle."

Sam blinked. "Mm. I don't dye my hair, dude."

"Yes, you do. But it's just between friends. That's not natural."

Sam bristled. "I'm gonna... go, 'cause you're kinda freakin' me out."

Sam walked past Kurt, his backpack slung around his shoulder.

"Wait, wait," Kurt said, blushing, and walked with the blonde boy, "Maybe my instincts were a little off. Let me make it up to you. Team up with me for the duets competition. Unless you team up with Rachel, I'm your best bet at winning."

"Aren't duets supposed to be between, like, a girl and a guy?" asked Sam as they rounded the corner.

"Well, Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor would protest," Kurt smirked and looked at Sam's blank expression, "Make 'Em Laugh? Singin' In The Rain?"

"Sorry," Sam shook his head, lost.

"1952? Nothing? Okay, maybe you are straight."

"What?" Sam smiled.

"Nothing. Listen, rent it, and then look up the menu for Breadstix online because we are going to win this thing," Kurt said with determination, squeezing Sam's shoulder and backing away towards his next class.

Sam shrugged and walked on. He knew by now that the best way to get through high school was to just... go with it.

Kurt walked down the opposite hall with a pleasant smile on his face, until Finn Hudson approached looking unamused.

"I heard that you asked Sam to be your duet partner," he said simply, walking alongside Kurt.

"News sure travels fast at this school," Kurt bristled.

"Did he agree?"

"Not in so many words, but basically, yes."

"You can't do this to him," groaned Finn.

"You're overreacting."

"If he sings with you, you're painting a bullseye on his back."

Kurt grimaced, stung. "Your mother is such a nice woman, Finn, I wouldn't want you to disappoint her with your closeted homophobia."

"Don't give me that," Finn rolled his eyes, "I really like you, Kurt, but Sam's not interested."

"I just want to sing with him!" Kurt hissed.

"Then you don't give a damn about any of us. If he sings with you, I guarantee that within a week, he'll take so much crap that he'll have to quit glee club. Your call, dude."

Finn walked away with his shoulders hunched as Kurt stood still in the busy hall, his eyes on the floor.

Walking down the opposite hallway, Sam was oblivious to the conversation his apparent duet partner just had, or the fate that would meet him as he rounded another corner. To someone who'd never received a slushie facial before, the feeling was almost indescribable. Like many before him had said, it was like getting slapped in the face with an iceberg. It was like taking a nose dive into the Arctic ocean. It was like getting your head - just your head - cryogenically frozen. All of that, added with humiliation of a group of sluggish jocks cackling, "Welcome to glee club, lady!" made the experience scarily similar to Boreas, the Greek god of Winter, taking a leak on your face.

It was arguably the most unpleasant moment of Sam Evans' life, especially when he blinked the red corn syrup of his eyes to see a gracefully beautiful blonde looking back at him. It wasn't Buffy, as he had hoped for half a second. It was another blonde he'd seen in glee club, and right now, she was smiling at him, almost apologetically.

"Come on," she said simply and tugged the sleeve of his shirt.

She led him to the girls' bathroom, which he was more than reluctant to enter.

"It's okay. Guys come in here all the time. It's way cleaner," she smiled as she led him in, "Sam Evans, right? I'm Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

Sam nodded, goose bumps raised all over his body as his teeth chattered together. Quinn smirked and wet some paper towels in the sink, lifting them to Sam's face to wipe off some of the cherry red slush.

"You get used to it," she shrugged, smiling sweetly, "The blueberry flavor is the worst. Especially if it gets down your pants. I looked like a creature out of Avatar one day."

Sam blinked and smiled widely, his eyes lighting up. "I saw Avatar like six times."

Quinn looked back at him, waiting for him to go on. "...Oh," she finally said when she figured that was all he had to say, "Anyways. You'll get used to it."

She smirked warmly at him. He was cute, even if he was awkward. He had full, pink lips and swishy blonde hair. Plus, he was already on the football team. If anything could make sure that Quinn was back on track, it was a reliable football boyfriend. Even if he did get slushied regularly. Soon with their combined popularity, they could change that.

"You used to be a cheerleader, right? So why do you even bother?" asked Sam, "You don't need glee club."

Quinn shrugged. "I like to sing. What's the point of being popular when you can't do what you want?"

Sam smiled back at her and nodded. "You're right. That must be it."

"What must be it?"

Sam leaned against the sink and shook his head, grinning. "I was just wondering why someone so popular would bother with glee club. I mean, if someone as cool as Buffy wants to be in a show choir it must be-"

"Buffy?"

"Uh, yeah. Everyone around here just seems to think she's pretty cool-"

"Of course they do," Quinn rolled her eyes, "Everyone's just crazy about Buffy, Buffy, Buffy."

She threw the damp paper towels in the sink and stormed out of the bathroom.

xxx

Artie Abrams rolled up to his locker and stuffed his books for his next three periods into his satchel. Geometry, English, Western Civ, he counted, and frowned as a figure came into his peripheral vision. Looking up, he saw the blonde, statuesque vision that was Brittany Pierce in her dangerously short Cheerios uniform. She cocked her head and smiled seductively.

"Hi," she said in a small voice, waggling her fingers at the wheelchair bound boy, "So, I just want you to know, I'm really into you."

Artie looked over his shoulder as if she was talking to another very short person behind him.

"Okaaay..." he said, baffled, "I'm just a little confused. You've never even made eye contact with me."

"I know. For a while, I thought you were a robot. But now that I know you're just a cyborg, I think we should be in a relationship."

"So, let me get this straight. You want to be my girlfriend, because you like the idea of wheeling me around?"

"...I just really want to get you in a stroller."

Artie smiled up at the girl and she smiled back at him. If Santana didn't want to be with her, then fine, but Brittany wanted someone she could call her own, and it might as well be someone who couldn't run away.


	31. The Visitor

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

Puck got sent to juvie.

**Quinn: What did he do?**

**Will: Breaking and entering, robbery and indecent exposure.**

So he'll probably miss the glee club's duet competition.

**Mike: What do we win?**

**Will: Dinner for two, on me... at Breadstix.**

Buffy's is hosting a foreign exchange student.

**Buffy: We are talking about a complete stranger in my house for two weeks. I'm gonna be insane!**

But hopefully she can still find time to deal with a mummy on the loose.

**Rachel: They could have at least wrapped him in those white bandages, like in the movies.**

xxx

"Visitor, Puckerman."

A nostalgic smile sank into Noah Puckerman's face as the tired guard ushered him into the visitor's room. He'd only spent a night in juvie, but it felt like years since Quinn Fabray looked him in the eyes. He was surprised to see her there now, wringing her pale, delicate hands together and chewing her pink bottom lip. He'd thought that perhaps she was done with him now that they gave Beth away, but maybe she'd come around. He smiled at her through the bulletproof glass, only to have her lip curl distastefully at the vibrant orange of his jumpsuit.

"Surprised to see you here, Blondie," he said teasingly, picking up the phone that hung up on their section.

"I wish I could say the same," she said blankly into her receiver.

"So, what's up, Q? I can't imagine you'd step down to the Lima slums for nothing," he smirked, leaning back in his hard metal chair.

Quinn fidgeted in her chair. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"'Course I am. I'm with my own kind now," he smiled.

"You're not a criminal, Puck."

"Clearly, I am."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "What happened?"

Puck leaned in, his eyebrows knitting together sheepishly. "Okay, totally honestly... I don't remember."

Quinn sighed, and looked down at the metal table in front of her. It was just as she had feared. "Did you... hurt anyone?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. It was kind of all a haze. I think I had too much to drink or something..."

"What do you remember?" Quinn asked urgently.

"I remember... Some cops waking me up in a convenience store. I... I guess I broke in and, uh, ate some stuff..."

"Ate... what stuff?"

"...Raw meat."

Quinn groaned, disgusted. "Oh my God."

"I'm telling you, Karofsky must have spiked my beer with some heavy stuff. I don't even like my steak rare, but all these packages of bloody raw meat were ripped up all over the place, and... uh..."

"What?"

"Well, I was naked."

Quinn blinked back at the boy and bit her lip.

"You don't seem very surprised," he noted.

"I... Oh God, Puck."

"Look, its okay. This is a one time thing-"

"No, it's not. You have no idea."

"I can control myself," he rolled his eyes, "No more keg stands, I get it."

Quinn shook her head and looked up at Puck's deceptively innocent brown eyes, wondering if it was her responsibility to tell the boy the truth about his... condition.

"You look tired, Fabray," he noted, squinting at her face.

"Shut up," she frowned, "I didn't bother putting makeup on to impress a bunch of delinquents."

"No, no, really. You look tired, like... sad, tired."

Quinn shook her head. "As articulate as you are, Noah, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm not the one in juvie."

"Oh, come on, Q. You don't need to put up those walls with me."

Quinn stared back at him for a moment and groaned. "I guess when someone has seen you push a small human out of your lady parts, you might as well start being honest about your feelings."

"That's the spirit. What's up?"

"Things are just pretty complicated. I mean, they always were, but... I've been thinking about my mom a lot."

"Why?"

Quinn shrugged. "I never really said goodbye... I've been thinking about visiting her while my dad is at work, or something. I could even just bump into her at church. I just want some closure. I want to know if she misses me. If she ever wanted me to come back. At the very least, I want to know if she still thinks about me. I don't want to feel stupid for having her on my mind all the time."

Puck sighed deeply. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. If I had the chance to tell my old man how I really feel about him, I'd take it."

Quinn smiled stiffly and nodded. "Thank you, Noah."

xxx

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, bracing herself for the chilly night wind as she waited outside of the Lima bus station at the border of the town.

"Thanks for driving me here," she said, her words turning to icy vapor in the air.

"Think of me as the official scoobie chauffer," said Kurt, trembling in his snow white Zara Aran sweater that looked just as warm as it did beautiful, "It's not like I'll have anything better to do."

Buffy kept her eyes ahead at the empty buses parked in their respective slots. "You sound a little blue. What's up, Chuck?"

Kurt sighed. "It's this duet competition. Sam, more or less agreed to be my partner, but Finn seems to have a problem with it," he rolled his glasz eyes.

"Finn? Why should he have a problem with it? He jealous or something?"

Kurt snorted. "No, he thinks I am, quote unquote, 'painting a bullseye on his back'."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I guess it means that singing with me would be the social equivalent of sticking your head in a guillotine."

"Kurt, that's not true."

"It doesn't matter... I'm not going to sing with Sam."

"Finn was just being a conservative Lima guy. He's basically saying that interacting with a gay guy is practically suicide, and that's the kind of deep seated homophobia you need to laugh in the face of."

"I don't know, Buffy, my singing with Sam sort of had an ulterior motive."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts. I'm not going to sing with him and fall in love with his Southern mannerisms only to have my little heart crushed by his irreparable straightness. I'm not saying that Finn was right-"

"Good, because he wasn't," Buffy assured, and shrugged, "Maybe... I could sing with Sam?"

Kurt waggled his eyebrows playfully. "I see I'm not the only one charmed by the bleach blonde Bieber cut."

"Well, I don't know if it's that simple. I sort of ditched him once... or twice."

"Details!"

"Well, I danced with him at Breadstix and then just sort of... left."

"You just left?"

"It wasn't my finest moment, okay? But then we danced at the Bronze and it was a lot of fun until there was a vampire attack outside. I had to ditch. Problem is, I don't think Sam wants to take his chances with a flake for a third time."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Buff. You'd be surprised at the amount of boys in this school who would be honored to be ditched by Buffy Summers. You're like the Lima enigma."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Thanks to Morgan Ru. She's talking me up because she wants protection, but I have to say, I'm not appreciating the attention. Piper Saberhagen has been taking karate classes."

"Well, impressing boys like Sam Evans has to be a perk."

"I guess so... I mean, yes. I like him, I do-"

"Enough to grovel for ditching? To plough through the complexities of dating a civilian when you're basically a teenage superhero?"

"I- I don't know. I mean, I don't know him that well. All I do know is that he's funny and polite and... dorky. And cute. Very, very cute."

"You two would make a very cute, blonde couple with very cute, blonde babies. If Mr. Evans, is, in fact, a natural blonde, which I highly doubt."

The two friends shivered silently as a long, silver bus approached the bus station, and hissed with relief. "This must be her," said Buffy, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

A few passengers exited the bus, moseying their own ways along. Buffy peered through the small crowd of newcomers, unable to spot a teenage girl.

"Ampata!" she called, "Ampata Gutierrez?"

Buffy and Kurt looked onward until an approaching figure clouded there vision.

"I am Ampata."

Buffy and Kurt stared slack jawed, at the tall, lean boy who'd approached them. Struggling to find words, Buffy inspected his square shoulders, his narrow jaw, long straight nose and oval, honey colored eyes that swiveled between her and Kurt. Feminine, perhaps, but in no way female.

"Y-You are Ampata?" asked Buffy, looking the tall, sunkissed boy up and down, his dark brown hair curling and falling into his light eyes.

"And you must be Buffy Summers," he replied in his smooth Latin accent.

Buffy nodded, dumbfounded as Kurt continued to stare, his mouth hanging open.

"So, Ampata... you're a boy," noted Kurt.

"Yes," Ampata chuckled, "For many years now."

His eyes met Kurt's and he gave him a curious, humored smile.

"Oh, w-we thought a girl was coming," nodded Buffy, "And here you are, in a boy way."

"It's just one of those crazy mix ups, I guess," Kurt smiled, and said loudly, "So, Buffy, you were telling me about Sam Evans, that boy you like?"

"Oh, uh... yeah."

xxx

Although Kurt had to be pushed out of Buffy's front door the previous night and pointed home, he was back on her side, and more importantly, Ampata's, the very next day at school. The foreign exchange student's hair looked so much glossier and his eyes so much more like melted butterscotch under warm sunlight.

"First day of school," said Buffy, smiling up at Ampata as she walked alongside him to his left, "Nervous?"

"It's more people than I've been around in a long time," he smiled lightheartedly.

"I wouldn't be worried," Kurt shook his head on Ampata's left, "You should have no problem making friends. I mean, everyone in this town is hostile and narrow minded, but... well, the cheerleaders should like you. Oh, and glee club!"

"Glee club?" Ampata repeated.

"It's like show choir. We sing songs... basically... But everyone should be happy to meet you," said Kurt.

"I know one person who's dying to meet you," promised Buffy, and pulled on Ampata's sleeve to lead him to Mr. Schuester's small, cluttered office, where Rachel was gargling water and Tina was hunched over the desk, inspecting the seal they found in the museum the day before.

"You're here!" she said happily, as she looked up and saw Kurt and Buffy toting Ampata along with them, "Is this...?"

"Yep, this is Ampata," Kurt said softly, his eyes remaining on Ampata's graceful face.

"Ampata, the girl?" asked Rachel confused, as she sat on the armchair opposite Mr. Schuester's desk.

"Clearly not," said Buffy, sitting on the edge of the desk, "Must have been some sort of mix up."

"Nice to meet you, Ampata," smiled Tina, and jumped right to it as she picked up the seal and held it forward in her two hands, "I was wondering if you could take a look at this."

Ampata raised an eyebrow, surprised, as he took the broken seal from Tina's hands and his expression turned grave.

"Is something wrong?" asked Buffy.

"Uh, no, it is... Why are you asking me?" asked Ampata, confused.

"Uh, well, it's an artifact from the region you come from," explained Tina, "It's from the tomb of an Incan mummy. We were trying to decipher it for, um, our, archeology club."

"It is broken," noted Ampata, "Where are the other pieces?"

"This is all we found," Buffy shook her head.

"It's very old. Valuable... You should hide it."

"Well, do you recognize any of the pictures on it?" asked Tina.

Ampata shook his head.

"Well..." sighed Tina, "I guess we can just try and figure it out."

"Yes," nodded Buffy, "And as archeology club leader, I have a lot of archeology club stuff to do, so, Rachel if, you'd-"

"Spend the day with Ampata," finished Kurt, "I'd love to."

Ampata smiled warmly back at the boy. "It'll be fun."

"Sure, we can tour the school, and then, um..." Kurt looked back at Buffy for some guidance of what could possibly make Lima, Ohio, remotely interesting.

"You could... practice for the duet competition!" Buffy blurted out.

Kurt smiled pleasantly. "Ampata, can you sing?"

"A little..." Ampata grinned nervously.

Kurt grinned. "Let's walk."

Rachel sighed as the boys walked out of the office.

"Now that you mention it, Finn and I have to rehearse," she said, and rose from her seat, lifting her black mini messenger bag from the ground.

"Oh, goodie, the clean fun of a Finchel duet," groaned Buffy.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Rachel, raising a sculpted eyebrow.

"Oh, no, she just means... Well, you guys are great at what you do. A little too great," shrugged Tina.

"This isn't performance envy I smell, is it?" Rachel grinned.

"No, it's just... typical. You two will win the competition. I know it, everyone knows it," said Buffy, "It's enough to discourage the rest of us, but whatever. You go do your thing. I'd wish you good luck, but you really don't need it."

Rachel left the office with a stiff parting smile, and walked to the choir room where her boyfriend awaited, sitting near the drums with a wide, naive grin on his face. His smile immediately fell when he saw the blue expression on Rachel's face. She slumped into a seat in the front row of the choir room columns and let out a tired sigh.

"You okay?" he asked, standing up and smoothing out his jeans, unsure of how to act during the strange mood swing his girlfriend was surely having.

"I'm not a very nice person," she said sadly. Not with an unsatisfied pout or with the way she wrinkled her nose when she found something distasteful, but with perfect, heart sinking clarity, "I'm selfish."

Finn sighed and took a seat next to her. He didn't know a whole lot about women, but he knew when Rachel began speaking from her heart with no clouded judgment or bias and no ulterior motives, he listened. Offering reassurances or resolving the problem could come later, but for right at that moment, the only thing to do was listen.

"The fact is, I'm only really generous when there's something in it for me," she said, and shut her lips tight.

Finn bit his bottom lip and tried a smile. "Yeah, but I still like you," he shrugged.

"And you, you're so kind and open," she shook her head, not hearing his words, "I want to be a better person... We have to throw the competition."

Finn's face fell as his heart sank. "But I love Breadstix..."

"If we want to win Nationals than Sam has to win this contest. He has to feel like he belongs, and the team has to believe in him and not be discouraged from giving something their all just because they aren't always in the limelight."

She looked at Finn, head on and determined; her brown eyes wide.

"Wow, Rachel, I've never seen you like this," he said quietly, "I'm kind of impressed."

Rachel shrugged and smiled sweetly, pecking her boyfriend on the cheek.

"But technically you're doing it so that we can win Nationals which means there is something in it for you," smiled Finn.

Rachel blinked at her boyfriend. "Okay, I'm going to ignore what you just said and remind you that we have to find a way for me to lose a singing competition to get the new kid to stick around."

"Right."

"So, I hear that Kurt is convincing Buffy's foreign exchange student to be his partner, but I thought he was partnered with Sam already?"

"Oh, yeah, well, I convinced him not to," shrugged Finn.

"What? Why? Kurt is an experienced performer and an excellent choice in partner."

Finn blinked. "Um, well..."

"Finn, what did you do?"

"I just thought that being in glee club was already tarnishing Sam's reputation, so, I mean, dueting with Kurt would only make it worse."

"Finn!"

"What? I'm not wrong!"

"That's not the point. Being cool and popular is not what glee club is about, clearly. You're encouraging the isolation of one of our team mates."

"It's not like that."

"I fail to see what else it is like. That kind of attitude, Finn Hudson, is deplorable. You need to apologize, and I need to find Sam Evans a new duet partner."

xxx

Skipping school wasn't new to Quinn Fabray. She'd spent the first few years of high school on her best behavior, but after falling pregnant with Noah Puckerman's baby, her reputation as a goody two shoes became less and less important and more and more unachievable. The most she could hope for, reputation wise, was to be renowned as a fierce and untouchable enigma, like her mother had been when she was in high school, like Santana used to be, or like Buffy is now. She wrinkled her nose, sad to see that she has succumbed to wishing she could be Buffy Summers, of all people. Then again, she tended to wish she was anyone but herself.

Despite being used to skipping school, her stomach gurgled unpleasantly with nerves that drilled at her heart and rattled her bones. The very sight of her old neighborhood gave her chills as she stepped off the bus nearest to Dudley Road. Most of the houses were three stories tall. Before, the houses surrounding her own had felt like an impenetrable fortress protecting her from the world, or often depriving her of it. Now, they felt like they were daunting figures, looming over her, ready to collapse and cave in with the weight of the lies, secrets and unspoken words that every privileged family seemed to have.

Her heart rate increased rapidly as she approached the house that had once been her own. Her father's Mercedes was gone, which provided some relief. She knew she had to visit when he was at work. Facing her mother was one thing, but she was not going to subject herself to the pain of hearing her father calling her a monster and telling her she was not welcome in there house - on this earth. She shuddered at the mere thought of his gravelly voice as she rapped her knuckles across the thick front door.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting when her mother answered. She half expected Judy Fabray to open the door with fire roaring behind her eyelids, furiously shouting at Quinn, calling her a harlot and chasing her out of the neighborhood. Quinn also half expected - well, hoped - that Judy Fabray would grip her daughter in a crushing hug and welcome her back home, explaining that she and Russell had split up - the real reason for the absence of the Mercedes. Quinn had expected anything that was more dramatic than what really happened. She spotted a flash of blonde hair in the stained windows that surrounded the front door, and just as soon as it had appeared, it had disappeared again.

"Hello?" Quinn called halfheartedly; sure she had seen someone inside.

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the same blonde head peek back into the hallway, only to disappear quickly again.

"Mom! I know you're in there!"

Quinn couldn't believe it. Her mother was hiding. She felt much less nervous now, and more annoyed. The door opened slowly, and Judy Fabray poked her head through just a fraction, looking no different than how she did when Quinn last saw her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a small voice, her lips curled down in a stiff frown.

"I..." That's when Quinn realized that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing there.

"You should leave."

"Mom, come on. Take two seconds to talk to me."

Judy hesitated in the doorway, looking torn.

"I'll leave before Russell gets back," Quinn assured.

It didn't take Judy long before she opened the door and stood aside to let Quinn in. Quinn stepped in, and her skin tingled at how familiar everything was, as if she'd been there just yesterday and not last year. The overwhelming smell of pot pourri still clung to the air. The only thing that was different was the few framed photographs on the wall that had been taken down. Quinn guessed that they were pictures of her that her parents simply didn't want to look at, though she couldn't recollect which ones. Pictures of her older sister Francis still adorned the walls.

"I'll make some tea," Judy said quietly and walked into the kitchen while Quinn remained staring at the walls.

Quinn always thought that her mother had some sort of nervous tick where she had to make tea whenever she had an unexpected visitor. She used to think that even if a burglar broke into their home, her mother's first instinct would be to make them tea.

Quinn eventually tore herself away from the photographs and walked into the kitchen where her mother poured herbal tea into two of her less precious tea cups. Quinn took a seat and her mother placed a gently steaming cup in front of her. Quinn stared at the warm vapor curling upwards as her mother sat down at the kitchen table, opposite her. Neither woman touched their tea.

"Where have you been staying?" Judy asked quietly into her tea, "That boy, I presume."

"If you're talking about Noah, then, no. I'm staying with a friend."

Judy pursed her lips. "I don't know why you came here. You can't stay here. He'll forbid it."

"I came here to talk to you. To get... closure."

Judy looked up from her tea and across the table, at her earnest daughter. "What would you ever want to talk to me for?" she sniffed.

"You're my mother. That's got to mean something, doesn't it?"

"Look how you turned out. I shouldn't be anyone's mother."

Quinn frowned. She always got the impression that her parents saw her as a failure of a daughter, but she didn't know that Judy saw herself as a failure of a mother.

"Do you really think it was your fault?" asked Quinn.

"Oh, I don't know," Judy shook her head, a flippant smile creeping onto her face the way it did whenever things got real, "Sometimes girls are just led astray. Only God knows what."

Quinn suppressed the urge to snort. "Do you think God forgave me?"

The question wasn't posing whether God cares about her or not, it was about whether Judy believes that her daughter could be forgiven by this presence that she holds so dearly. It was about whether Judy had forgiven her.

"Did you ask for forgiveness?"

"Is asking enough?"

Judy looked back into her tea. "He could forgive you... If you really changed."

"Of course God could forgive the pregnancy, the lies... Could he forgive me for being me? Dad called me a demon. A monster. He thinks I have evil in me, because of the witchcraft."

"Well..."

"Do you believe that?"

Judy pursed her lips, becoming uncomfortable. She would do anything to avoiding disagreeing with her husband. He was right up there was God, concerning where her loyalty and obedience lies.

"It's not all bad. It can't be," said Quinn, "Magic."

Judy sighed. "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

Quinn rolled her eyes. It was the line her parents spouted the most. "Let me put it this way; do you ever miss me?"

Judy looked surprised by the question, her eyebrows rising across her wrinkled forehead. "...Sometimes."

"And by sometimes you mean... Usually, you don't have to think about me. But sometimes, you're forced to."

The women looked each other in the eye, a secret knowledge passing between them. "Sometimes," Judy repeated again, barely a whisper.

"Sometimes I feel it too," said Quinn, "Not for you. For Beth."

Judy sighed, her mouth hanging open. "Your... your child?"

Quinn nodded. "We named her Beth."

"Is... I mean, is she-?"

"We gave her away. Up for adoption."

Judy looked almost disappointed. "I get that horrible feeling quite often. It's... painful, and wonderful, at the same time," said Judy, looking forlorn.

Quinn nodded and smiled subtly, happy to have found someone who understands. "Why is that?"

"Magic."

"It's a witch thing?"

Judy nodded. "Exclusively. My mother can feel it... She can feel me, when I used to do magic. And I'm able to feel it when you did magic. It was like an alarm in my heart. I didn't know what it was the first time it happened, until I made the connection. It's one of the reasons I didn't have such a problem with you doing magic. Because every time you did, it would start this connection, where I could feel your wonder and your awe and your childlike innocence through you, when you did a spell. It became a considerably less pleasant feeling when you reached adolescence. Every time you did magic, I could feel your jealously and yearning and teenage anxieties. Those aren't feelings that anyone ever wants to relive."

"Wait, so, the connection only happens when I'm doing magic?"

"Yes."

"So that must mean... Wherever Beth is, she's doing magic."

Judy wrinkled her brow. "She's so young."

Quinn frowned and shook her head. "Not even four months yet. How is that possible?"

Judy shook her head, staring back into her tea. Snapping out of her sudden realization, Quinn looked back at her silent mother.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.

"What?" asked Judy, finally taking a sip of her untouched tea.

"Standing by while he kicked me out," said Quinn, with a touch of bitterness in her voice.

Judy squirmed in her seat. "You should leave now."

"Just tell me. What are you so afraid of? God? Russell? Screw them. Men who bombard through life, stumbling there way to power. You have more power than them. You have more power than people in this town could dream of, and what are you doing with it? Nothing."

"What are you doing with it, Lucy?" Judy sighed, "Using your power to change the world, one dye job at a time?"

Quinn smacked her lips together, surprised by the snappish remark. "At least I'm using it. At least I don't have to live in fear."

"I think it's time you left," said Judy, rising from her seat.

"Mom, listen-"

"No, Quinn," Judy shook her head, exhausted; "You don't understand why I do what I do. You have your whole life ahead of you. Endless possibilities. Kicking you out was the best thing that Russell ever did for you. You're stronger than I am, and smarter. You'll make it. I won't. Now, leave."

"Mom-"

"Leave. Please."

Quinn left, stomping out of the house and down the road, no longer anxious about the tall houses that loomed over her, and no longer afraid of her mother's reactions and her father's words. They were weak. They were morons. Although Quinn was far from closure, she did have the satisfaction that nothing her parents said mattered, because they didn't matter. They were losers. Failures. Quinn was powerful, and she could be so much more than her mother. Quinn was a lion and her mother was an ant. Quinn would be better. Quinn _is _better.


	32. The Mummy

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

New Directions has a new member.

**Sam: Hi, ****everybody, I'm Sam. Sam I am. And I don't like green eggs and ham.**

But he's already met Buffy.

**Buffy: I sort of ditched him once... or twice.**

Ouch. Buffy has a foreign exchange student at her house and he just might be able to help them with their latest case.

**Tina: Uh, well, it's an artifact from the region you come from. It's from the tomb of an Incan mummy. We were trying to decipher it for, um, our, archeology club.**

**Ampata: It is broken. Where are the other pieces?**

**Buffy: This is all we found.**

**Ampata: It's very old. Valuable... You should hide it.**

And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

Buffy followed the sound of a strumming guitar through the hallways of McKinley High like it was some sort of magic. She was entranced enough to abandon her research with Tina to investigate the noise. It wasn't loud enough to get the attention of a teacher, but loud enough to pique Buffy's curiosity. She pushed the door of Room 31, the Astronomy room, open, to see Sam Evans sitting on one of the desks with his eyes closed, strumming a carefree song. His eyelids fluttered open at the sound of Buffy's entrance, and he smiled subtly. The dull light from the overcast sky made his blonde hair sandy, but his eyes were just as light.

"Buffy Summers," he said her whole name like she was a celebrity, or the title character in a movie.

"Sam Evans," she replied, smiling sheepishly, "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

He shook his head. "I had a free period. Decided to... relax."

"Most guys relax at the Chili's around the corner."

Sam shrugged. "And Sam I Am chose the astronomy room. My rep is becoming less and less desirable everyday."

Buffy grinned. "I wouldn't say that."

"My teammate's would. I'm not exactly... We don't really get along."

"That's too bad," Buffy said quietly, "Say, um, this competition for glee club... I don't have a partner."

"Neither do I," he blinked hopefully, "Kurt Hummel found someone better, I guess."

"No, not better, just... Ampata's new, so..." Buffy opened her mouth hesitantly and closed it again, "So... Why did you choose the astronomy room?"

Sam looked a little taken aback, his eyes darting to the foam solar system that hung from the ceiling on strings. "I like astronomy," he shrugged, "It makes my problems seem smaller. That one's Venus. Planet of love."

He pointed to a dusty orange circle that hung in the air, and Buffy wrinkled her nose. It looked like Mars, but she pursed her lips and decided to trust him, because astronomy wasn't her strong subject. She sidled up to him and sighed.

"I want to apologize," said Buffy.

"Huh?"

"I never apologized for ditching you in The Bronze."

"Oh... yeah," Sam said, looking a little embarrassed.

"I don't usually flake like that. I mean, I know I've done it twice now, but... Well, those times are like exceptions."

"Really?"

"No... Not really. It's actually... I get busy a lot. Um..."

Sam's eyes traveled back to the solar system. "What's your sign?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your sign. Your star sign."

"Um... Capricorn," she raised a curious eyebrow.

"Well, then that explains it. Capricorns are super independent. Don't like to be tied down."

"Do you just know a ton about Astronomy?"

Sam smiled. "Since flaking is in your nature, I won't hold it against you," he shrugged with a smile.

Buffy grinned. "Well, you really are something else, Sam Evans... Anyways, this duet competition..."

"Right. Well, you should know that guitar is one of my strengths. Choreography isn't."

He started strumming on his guitar again, a tune that went nowhere in particular, like a breeze.

"Well, that's good, because dancing is actually my strong point when it comes to glee club," shrugged Buffy.

"That's convenient," smiled Sam, and gestured to his guitar "Do you know how to play?"

"No."

"It's easy. Give me your hand."

Buffy walked closer to the boy and offered her hand, which he warmly to in his and applied her fingers high on the guitar. He showed her where to hold them in place and where to strum and all the while his breath tickled her ear as he spoke. She stopped a moment and glanced at the boy, to find he was already looking at her. He held her gaze steady, his head getting slowly closer as he leaned in, his eyes tracing the outline of her lips.

"No," Buffy murmured, and backed away, her hands dropping from his guitar, "I can't do this."

"I... I'm sorry," Sam babbled.

"No, I'm sorry, I'm just... I can't."

Buffy walked out, leaving the door open in her wake. This was the third time that she had abruptly abandoned Sam Evans, and this time had left both of them feeling the worst, by far.

xxx

_Free period sucks, _thought Kurt, as he toted Ampata Gutierrez around McKinley High.

"This is about as exciting as the school gets," Kurt shrugged as they both stared out at the football field from where they sat on the damp bleachers, watching a small cart paint white lines over the faded green grass.

"Glee club sounds exciting," Ampata smiled; his Latin accent loose and sexy.

Kurt eyed the boy. "Is that a joke?" he asked, half serious.

"No," Ampata chuckled, "Singing and dancing... We don't have a class like that in my country."

"If it were up to the majority of the school, we wouldn't either."

"People do not like glee club?"

"People don't like putting themselves out there and being unique," Kurt said bitterly, brushing a lock of warm brown hair to the side of his forehead, "They see us doing this stuff and they think we're weird for not being like everyone else."

Ampata nodded, smiling sadly. "Things are the same at my home country. People don't like you when you're... different. I'm used to spending most of my time alone."

"No, you?" Kurt wrinkled his nose and smiled, unwilling to believe that someone as gorgeous as Ampata wasn't regularly flocked with groupies.

Ampata nodded. "That's why glee club sounds so nice. It's a place for the people who are different. In fact, I'm surprised you didn't already have a partner for this competition."

"Well, even the people who are different seem to be able to pick the odd one out. Like you said, when you're different, you get used to being alone."

"You're very different, but I like it."

"I like that you like that," Kurt blushed.

"Perhaps we can be alone... together."

Kurt bit his lip and looked at the boy. Ampata was impossibly beautiful and it could not be possible that he was flirting with Lady Lips Hummel.

"Ampata... Would you like to go out with me?" It came out of Kurt's mouth before he could even consider stopping it.

"I would love to," Ampata smiled warmly.

xxx

"Oh gosh," mumbled Tina.

Buffy's naked toes wriggled on the surface of her cream colored carpet as she reached for a salty handful of popcorn.

"I know, those eyebrows are insane," Buffy shook her head as she shoveled some popcorn into her mouth, her eyes glued to the TV screen that was playing a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's Rachel had brought over that night.

"Oh, stop," Rachel rolled her eyes and clutched one of Buffy's satin throw pillows to her chest, watching the movie just as attentively, "Audrey Hepburn was an idol, and pronounced eyebrows are on their way back."

"I meant insane in a good way," nodded Buffy.

"I wasn't talking about Hepburn's eyebrows," said Tina, who sat beside the girl's on Buffy's bedroom floor, clad in Ruby Gloom pajamas, the hem just a little too short. She held an impressive magnifying glass up to the broken seal she'd brought along with her.

"Do you ever stop studying?" asked Buffy.

"I think Rodney's killer could be the mummy," said Tina.

Buffy and Rachel turned away from the movie to watch Tina at work, inspecting the fragment of hard granite.

"Where does it say that?" asked Buffy.

"These pictograms suggest that the mummy has the power to suck the life force out of a person. Extraordinary," replied Tina.

"So we just have to stop the mummy," Rachel shrugged.

"Which leads to the question, how do we, A, find and, B, stop the mummy," said Buffy.

"The answer must be in here," Tina said, looking at the seal, as Buffy's phone rang, the 8-bit sound of Get This Party Started filling the room.

"I'll be right back," she groaned and got up from the floor, taking her cell phone into the hall. Just moments later she returned to the room, biting her lip. "It was Mr. Schuester."

"Is everything okay?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah. Well, no... Another mummified student was found in the bathroom," Buffy sighed.

"Oh, God," grimaced Rachel.

Tina sighed in frustration. "I can't believe Ampata can't translate a single thing for us."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "Ampata's been pretty wiggy about that seal from the start."

The girls gave each other knowing glances. "You don't think..." Rachel trailed off.

"His trunks," Buffy mumbled, and moved quickly to her bed, pulling two thick, old-fashioned suitcases out from under it, and flipping the latches on one.

"Those are all girls' clothes," said Rachel as she and Tina stood up and peered inside Ampata's luggage.

Buffy flipped the latches on the other one and gasped. "How about this one?" she asked gravely.

In Ampata's suitcase was a slender mummy, crumpled in the fetal position so it could fit inside.

xxx

"This is nice," smiled Ampata, as his caramel colored eyes peered around the colorful sights of Breadstix.

"Is it really? The accordion music isn't too cheesy? I would have brought you to The Bronze, but I thought that Breadstix was more personal and classier and maybe that was a total mistake-"

"Kurt," Ampata laughed, "Don't be so nervous. I love it. Believe it or not, I don't date a lot either."

Kurt grinned warmly, as the pseudo-Italian accordion music died down and the jazz band began playing That's Amore, one of their classics.

"Would you like to dance?" asked Ampata.

"Um, sure," Kurt shrugged with a small voice, and Ampata rushed to stand up and offer his hand to the thin boy.

Kurt could have swooned at the chivalry, but he simply smiled politely and took Ampata's hand, as he led him to the dance floor. Kurt had no idea what it was like to embrace a boy who was embracing him back, mutual feelings sparking between them, but he had to admit that he loved it much more than he had ever expected. He finally felt not so different. The dorky song didn't even register in his ears anymore as the boys pressed their foreheads together, their light eyes on each other. Ampata's lips drew so near that Kurt could practically taste his toothpaste, but before they could touch, Ampata reeled back, looking nervous and darted away, towards the back entrance, Kurt staring after him. Kurt frowned in confusion and pursed his lips.

"I guess I know how Sam Evans feels."

xxx

"Can't you step on it?" Buffy asked urgently.

"I am stepping on it," Tina gritted her teeth, her fingers tight on the steering wheel of her father's outdated mini van.

"This is all my fault. I should never have included Kurt in this stuff," Buffy shook her head.

"That's not up to you, Buffy," said Rachel, "And besides, how were we supposed to know that Ampata was the mummy?"

"I should have known," Tina said, her voice gravelly, "Remember when he told us to hide the seal? He wanted us to destroy it! If breaking it freed him-"

"Reassembling it will trap him," Buffy finished.

"I should drop you and Rachel off at Breadstix to get Kurt. I'll head to the museum to put the pieces back together," said Tina.

xxx

"Ampata!" called Kurt as he rushed out through the back entrance, to the cold, damp space behind Breadstix.

Ampata stood in the darkness, only strips of light from a street lamp illuminating him.

"Why'd you run away?" asked Kurt, stepping closer and looking at Ampata's heavy eyes.

"Because," Ampata said, his voice cracking, "I do not deserve you."

"You think that you don't deserve me?" Kurt scoffed, and spotted the spots of tears under Ampata's eyes, "Are those tears of... joy? Pain? Revulsion?"

Ampata shook his head, frowning as a tear dripped down his face. "I am very happy... and very sad."

"Then talk to me," Kurt said, quietly.

"I can't," Ampata sobbed, and flung his arms over Kurt, crying quietly into the boy's shoulder.

Kurt gulped nervously and stroked Ampata's hair. "I'm sorry," he said, unsure of how else to console a crying boy.

Ampata lifted his head slightly so that his eyes were level with Kurt, and gave him a pleading look. He didn't back away this time as their lips drew nearer, barely grazing. Kurt always wondered what it was like to kiss a boy, and when he finally did, it was splendid, until it wasn't. Kurt opened his eyes wide as he locked lips with Ampata, a strange pain bolting through his bones. Kurt became limp in Ampata's arms, and Ampata quickly let go of him. Kurt fell to the pavement floor, stunned and aching.

"I can't," Ampata sobbed. He gripped his chest urgently and widened his eyes. "The seal."

He abandoned Kurt on the damp ground behind Breadstix.

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice called out to Kurt minutes later, and before he knew it, Buffy Summers was pulling him to a more vertical position.

Kurt's limbs ached in a good way through the movement, and he groaned in response.

"I think so," he said, finding that he was breathless, "Boy, that was some kiss."

"Where's Ampata?" asked Rachel, who appeared beside Buffy.

"He said something about the seal..."

"The seal. Tina!" gasped Buffy, and the girls both lifted Kurt from the ground.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We'll tell you on the way," sighed Buffy.

xxx

Tina tied her hair back with a dark blue ribbon and spread the broken fragments of the seal on the floor, in the Incan Exhibit of the Lima museum. She shook her head, trying to work out what pattern they linked up in. She had ninety percent of it together, with only two smaller pieces remaining. With her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, she connected one, and sighed contentedly. Just one more piece...

Suddenly, a rough pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her back. Tina landed with her back on the ground and looked up to see Ampata stomping hard, once, on the seal, shattering it again. Ampata turned and reached his arms out to Tina - unlike the rest of him, the skin on his arms had become shriveled and age-worn. It seemed the mummy's curse was plaguing him an inch at a time. He lifted Tina in the air by her neck, her feet dangling above the ground.

"I'll say one thing for you Incan mummies," said Buffy, her arms folded as she walked coolly into the exhibit, "You don't kiss and tell."

Ampata shoved Tina away, and the girl weakly slumped to the floor, as Buffy bounded up to them and sent a high kick Ampata's way. Ampata ducked, proving much more agile than the average mummy, and gripped Buffy's neck, leaning in to kiss the life out of her. Buffy head butted the boy with a loud grunt and Ampata angrily shoved Buffy backwards into the open tomb and swiftly closed it shut with the stone lid.

Near the entrance, Rachel rushed straight into the crippling grip of Ampata. She gasped as Ampata darted out of nowhere and held her by the neck, his arms entirely mummified, and the disgusting shriveled effect rising up his neck.

"This won't hurt," he promised and leaned in to kiss the girl.

"Let her go," Kurt shouted as he followed Rachel in, and Ampata turned to him before he could touch Rachel's lips, "If you're gonna kiss anyone, it should be me."

"Kurt, we can be together. Just let me have this one," Ampata pleaded.

"No."

"I have to, Kurt. I have to do it now. I'm doing this for me and for us."

"No!"

Ampata released his grip on Rachel and she swiftly darted behind Kurt.

"If you want a life, you're going to have to take mine," said Kurt, "Can you do that?"

Ampata frowned bitterly. "Yes," he replied, and leaned in, his face now half mummified as one eyes fell into its widened socket.

Kurt grimaced as Ampata weakly leaned forward, until Buffy broke out of her captivity and raced towards them, pulling Ampata backwards. The mummy boy immediately gave way, his arms tearing away from his torso and falling to Kurt's feet. Buffy let him go, and his remains practically crumbled to dust as they fell to the ground. A collective sigh of relief swept through the teenagers as their latest faux was foiled. The scoobies walked out of the museum, tired and breathless from their latest case.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Buffy said quietly as Tina and Rachel piled into Mr. Chang's mini van.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked, his shoulders drooped, "You saved my life."

"Yeah, but, you really liked him. Before you knew he was a murderous mummy."

"I guess, but I only knew him for one day," Kurt sighed and shrugged.

"Still."

"Yeah, still... He was my first kiss. Well, the first kiss that counted. I just wish I didn't have such unfortunate taste in men."

"Well, he wasn't evil to begin with, and I do think he cared about you."

"Yeah, but I think sucking the life out of people would have been a strain on the relationship."

"You'll find someone."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am," Buffy smiled, "Really, I can feel it. Kurt Hummel, your turn is just around the corner."

xxx

A few nights came and passed, and Santana Lopez found herself where she was usually found herself at midnight. She laid on her back on the top of a mausoleum in the Lima Cemetery, looking up at the stars. In a small town like Lima, the stars were more scattered and bright, and Santana had been able to appreciate that a lot since she became a vampire. She spent a lot of nights looking up at the endless night sky. Something about the vastness of it all overwhelmed her. She felt so small in comparison. Somehow it helped her think.

"San?"

Santana sat up eagerly and looked over the edge of the mausoleum to see her best friend standing below, looking up.

"I knew you'd be here," Brittany smiled.

"Brittany, what are you doing here?" Santana asked quietly, alarmed to see her.

This wasn't a place that Santana was ready to share, but Brittany was the only person she wouldn't actually mind sharing it with.

"I wanted to talk to you," Brittany said, clasping her hands together like a little girl, "Can I come up?"

Santana leaned over and reached out her hands to pull Brittany up. With Santana's vampiric strength and Brittany's cheerleader agility, the girl made it up without much of a struggle and sat down, dangling her feet off the edge.

"How are you?" asked Brittany, throwing her head back and looking at the navy blue sky.

"I'm okay," Santana said, uncharacteristically quiet, "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"My family. My real family, which is what they are, really. Sofia is really my mother, and whether Quinn and I are related or not, she is my sister, without a doubt."

"We used to be like sisters," Brittany smiled sadly.

"Yeah..." Santana sighed, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I know."

Santana sighed restlessly. Brittany was too agreeable. She wanted her to be mad. She wanted to have a fight and have Brittany storm off. If anything, she wanted Brittany to become too angry with Santana to ever speak to her again, but things could never be so simple. Brittany would keep coming back, and if she didn't, it wouldn't take Santana long to break down and seek the girl out herself.

"I love my family," Santana whispered into the night, "I don't want us to fall apart like everyone else's. Look at everyone. Quinn's family and my family... We ended up abandoned because of all the secrets and lies. I don't want to mess up again. I want this time to be right."

Brittany nodded as she stuck her chin in the air, keeping her eyes locked on the sky but listening intently.

"I need to end all of these secrets," Santana thought aloud, "Then we can finally be... Well, not happy. But close."

Brittany nodded again in agreement and the girls sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the stars and wondering how they got here.

"I have a boyfriend," said Brittany.

Santana pursed her lips. "...What?"

"Artie Abrams, that cyborg boy-"

"That boy in the wheelchair?"

"Yeah... We've been dating for about a week now... I took his virginity."

Santana shuddered and stood up, grimacing. "Brittany, what are you talking about?"

"What?"

"That's your boyfriend? Some dumb four eyed..." Santana shook her head, furious and began to grumble unintelligibly.

"Why are you mad at me?" asked Brittany.

Santana sighed like a bull. "I'm not mad at you," she said, even though she was.

Outraged, even, and cripplingly frustrated that she had no right to have those feelings. She couldn't expect Brittany to remain a nun for the rest of her life just because Santana couldn't be with her. She wished she could, but she couldn't.

"I'm not mad, I'm just... Jesus, Brittany, I'm dealing with some personal shit and you have to tell me you have a boyfriend like I'm supposed to be happy. It's too much."

She began pacing on the roof of the mausoleum, her hands on her hips.

"He's nice."

"I don't care! I don't care if he's freaking Gandhi! He's a douchebag boy like the rest of them!"

"But-"

"You know what, Brittany? Why don't you just go do whatever the hell you want to?"

Brittany pursed her lips and looked back down at the ground. Santana turned to see the blonde frowning sadly, her eyes welling with guilty tears.

"I didn't mean that," Santana sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Really?" asked Brittany, looking up.

"Sure. You shouldn't have to feel guilty. I'm sure Stubbles McCripplepants is really nice."

Brittany smiled and stood up. "His name is Artie."

"Sure. I'm happy for you and... Artie."

"You mean it?"

"Of course I do," Santana tried a smile, and Brittany leaned in for a tight hug.

Santana sighed into the taller girl's shoulder. She was so whipped.

That night as the girls embraced, just across the cemetery, Buffy Summers was doing her latest patrol, and finishing off a newborn vamp. She dodged one weakly executed punch and slid her stake out of her sleeve, only to have it fly out and roll down through the dewy, uncut grass.

"Crap," she grumbled to herself, and was knocked back by the vamp's kick to her chest.

He was standing over her and snarling now, clearly pleased at the sudden turn the night was taking as the slayer's stake was out of her reach. He thought that perhaps he'd get the upper hand on the slayer that night. That maybe he could best her after all. Well, he was wrong. Buffy caught her stake mid air after it had been thrown back to her by... someone. Buffy didn't have time to look up and see who'd tossed her the stake because she was busy plunging it into the vamp's heart. However, as the dusted vamp disintegrated and Buffy whipped her hair out of her eyes, she squinted at a boy standing a few meters away. Buffy blinked at the boy. He looked around her age, with dark curls and brown eyes. Buffy clocked the sketchpad tucked under his arm and the pencil stuck behind his ear, and wondered what on earth was a clean cut, petite young man doing in the middle of a cemetery, witnessing a slayer in action.

"Um," Buffy said as she blinked at him and he blinked back.

Suddenly, he seemed to look panicked, his dark, thick eyebrows knitting together as he rushed out of sight and into the darkness.

"...Weird."


	33. The Kiss

a/n: Thanks to NikiGrace for letting me use one of her clever storylines.

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

****Buffy and Sam have joined force in glee club.

**Buffy: Well, you really are something else, Sam Evans... Anyways, this duet competition...**  
><strong>Sam: Right. Well, you should know that guitar is one of my strengths. Choreography isn't.<strong>

Too bad Puck can't compete. He's a little tied up.

**Will: Bad news, guys. Puckerman's in juvie.**

****And that's what happened on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

"Hey!"

Buffy shut her locker door to see Sam Evans bounding down the hallway towards her, looking determined. She blinked, unready to talk to him again since he tried to kiss her. She wasn't ready to explain why she just couldn't let herself be intimate with the boy. Probably because the last time she dated someone, he almost died, but she couldn't exactly explain that to Sam. There were just some burdens that a slayer had to bear.

"Listen, I was totally out of line the other day," he said breathlessly as he approached her, a red t-shirt hugging his chest, "I promise it won't happen again."

"It's fine, Sam, really. I should be apologizing to you. I'm majorly mixed-signals girl. They'll start calling me Flaky Summers."

"It's no excuse," he said, his eyes like a puppy's.

Buffy had to crack a smile. "I like you, Sam. I'm just not ready for a relationship."

"I completely understand," he nodded, though disappointed.

"I would still like to be your duet partner."

Sam smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. "Great," he sighed, and the bell sounded throughout the hall, "Uh, I have Calculus."

"I'll see you at free period," smiled Buffy, "We have some rehearsing to do."

Sam nodded excitedly and practically skipped off to class, making Buffy chuckle. She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned around, only for Mr. Schuester to bang into her as he hastily walked through the hallway.

"Mr. Schue!" Buffy called, as he continued to walk past her, "What's the deal?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, Buffy," he called over his shoulder, "I don't have time to talk."

Buffy bit her lip and hoped it was really something she didn't have to worry about as Mr. Schuester disappeared around the corner. He stormed through the quickly emptying hallways, his hands clenched into fists as he made his way to the nurse's office. He was having one of his rare moments of pure adrenaline based actions. He'd arrived to school this morning as cool as a clam, but something had inspired him to make raging dash to the nurse's office. Something that put the Terri in 'terrible mood'.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he demanded before he could stop himself as he burst into the nurse's office.

He definitely wasn't prepared to see her. She sat at the polyester seat and looked up at him, her golden hair glossed and curled around her thin face. She didn't look as young as the day they'd met, but her eyes were just as big and blue. It made Will shudder. Terri Delmonico was breaking his heart all over again.

"Will," she said, surprised, a short, white nurse's jacket draped over a coral, scalloped tunic.

"Why are you here?" he repeated, calmer, but still grumbling furiously. He had to look away from her, because of the anger she evoked in him.

"I'm the new school nurse," she smiled, as disconcerted as ever.

"You're not a nurse! You don't have any training!" he threw his hands up.

He heard the scandalized whispers in the teacher's lounge that morning, and couldn't believe the ridiculousness, but Terri was just the person to do something so idiotic.

"Oh, please, Will, it's a public school," Terri rolled her eyes.

"Don't think it's not obvious to everyone what you're doing. We can all see right through this little act of yours," Will shook his head angrily.

"Oh really, Will? Enlighten me."

Will huffed. "If you think you're going to get me back or something-"

"Get over yourself, Will. I'm not here for you."

"Sure you're not."

"I need the money."

"Of course you do. More credit card debt, Terri?"

"That's none of your business."

"Uh huh," Will shook his head, outraged.

"This has nothing to do with you, William. I'm doing this for me, so if you'd just stay out of my way and stop busting into my office like a lunatic, I won't bother you and your cute little orangutan girlfriend."

Will scowled. "Well... Fine!"

He stormed out of the office, leaving Terri alone in the nurse's office once again, rolling her blue eyes. Will Schuester could be such a drama queen, she thought, and went back to filing her nails.

For once, she was telling the truth. This school nurse gig had nothing to do with Will Schuester, and everything to do with Terri's other identity as an all powerful vengeance demon - something that goody two shoes watcher never needed to know about. Terri actually thought she was quite ingenious. High schools were generally a den of hormones, violence and upset; something she needed in order to continue granting wishes. D'Hoffryn had given her a year - one year - to do something spectacular, and all she had done was help Andrea Carmichael give Rod Remington an STD. It wasn't exactly one of D'Hoffryn's favourites, but it was just enough to grant Terri an extra couple months to find a better wish. And Terri knew that if there was any place for vengeance, it was a public high school.

xxx

"Hey, Baby Mama."

Quinn widened her eyes and looked up from her Algebra notebook, where she sat at one of the picnic benches in the school's courtyard and saw Noah Puckerman approaching her slowly, like a mirage.

"Can you not call me that?" she asked quietly as he sat down beside her.

"Sorry," he said genuinely.

"Aren't you supposed to be in juvenile hall?" she asked, nervously shifting her eyes, as if she was expecting cop cars to swarm the place and demand Puck surrender with his hands in the air.

"Got out on probation as long as I do some community service," he smiled.

"Oh... that's great," Quinn nodded, and closed her Algebra notes, "What are you doing for community service?"

"You," he smiled mischievously.

"Uh... Excuse me?"

"I don't mean that I'm 'doing' you, I mean-," he sighed, "I just mean, you've been so down lately, I decided to be like your... therapist."

"Puck, what are you talking about?" she sighed.

"I want to help you," he shrugged, "Help me help you."

Quinn rolled her green eyes. "You want to help me? Why don't you complete these equations, because it looks like gibberish to me and my grades are slipping."

"Q, you know I haven't attended a math class since middle school," Puck shook his head, "And since when are your grades slipping? You're like, the smartest blond chick I know."

Quinn sighed. "Yeah, well, I haven't exactly been motivated lately. It just feels like nothing is right in my life, so why bother with perfect grades. It's just one more thing that won't matter in the grand scheme of things."

Puck frowned and shook his head. "Don't think like that."

"How else am I supposed to think? I'm stuck in some sort of rut. I just can't wait to get out of high school."

"You used to rule this place," Puck shook his head nostalgically.

"Don't remind me. Now, my only friend is Brittany because everyone else would rather be seen with Buffy Summers. No guy will date me because every guy here is in love with Buffy Summers. The Cheerios won't let me back on the squad because they're holding a spot for Buffy freaking Summers." Quinn blew a piece of hair out of her eyes, frustrated.

"Sounds like that hot Bucky chick is the only thing standing in your way these days."

"Sure feels like it."

"Maybe... I could help with that."

Quinn looked at Puck's conspiring face. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing violent."

"Who mentioned violence? Puck, what are you thinking?" she asked nervously.

"Nothing, Q," he smiled, and rose from his seat, "I'll see you later."

"Puck!" she called after him as he walked away, ignoring her, "Noah, don't do anything illegal! You are on probation!"

xxx

Sam set his guitar down on a table in the Astronomy room, and smiled with satisfaction.

"If I say so myself... We are good," he smiled.

Buffy nodded, a little breathless from rehearsing their routine for the duet competition all throughout their free period.

"We make excellent partners, Mr. Evans," she smiled.

Sam grinned back at her bashfully. "Do you think we could win?"

"You know what? Before, I would have said no, because Finn and Rachel sort of have this power couple thing going on around here, but their performance yesterday was just..."

"Weird."

"Tactless."

"Rude."

"Bad!"

"I mean, where do you even get a priests' costume?" Sam grinned.

"Brittany and Artie were okay," shrugged Buffy.

"I think the baby's stroller made a lot of people uncomfortable," said Sam.

Buffy shrugged. "I guess we'll have to wait and see everyone else perform."

"Well, I think we have the secret ingredient," Sam smirked.

"What's that?"

"Charm."

Buffy smiled back at him, and she could feel those butterflies in her stomach, only this time, they were more like mountain goats. Both of their head snapped to the door as Noah Puckerman entered.

"Puck," Buffy said, "I thought you were in juvie."

"Probation," he shrugged, simply, and glanced at Sam, "Listen, Bumpy-"

"Buffy."

"Whatever. Can I talk to you? Alone?"

"Oh, um, okay," Buffy said, glancing at Sam, "I'll be right back."

Sam nodded politely as Buffy followed Puck out into the hallway.

"What's up?" she asked, her voice echoing slightly in the empty hall.

"I need a favor."

"A... favor? Are we at the favor stage?"

"No, but it's more like a favor for Quinn. You guys are friends, right?"

"Sort of."

"Well, sort of is good enough. Quinn's been... depressed."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Buffy said awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, she's pretty guarded like that. I want to help her, though. She's my community service."

"Huh?"

"The thing is, I think cheerleading would take her mind off of it. Have you ever been a cheerleader?"

Buffy nodded. "Back at my old school in Hemery."

"Good, 'cause you're gonna be one again."

"Excuse me?"

"Listen, Betty, I don't know if you realize, but you're sort of like the Lara Croft of McKinley High. You're all bad-ass and mysterious and from an exotic place-"

"California is not exotic. It's in the same country."

"It doesn't matter. The people here aren't used to variety, and when the new meat happens to be juicy and delicious meat, everybody wants a piece."

"Okay, you are very literally making me feel like a piece of meat."

"The Cheerios want you, and when people in power want something, they're usually open to conditions. Your condition will be that they let Quinn on the team."

"But I don't want to be a Cheerio."

"That's irrelevant."

"No, Puck, I think it's pretty relevant."

"If you don't do this, Quinn's growing depression will be on your head."

"That is so unfair."

"Life isn't fair, Pukey."

"Okay, now you're intentionally messy up my name. It's not that hard. Buffy. BUFF-Y!" she enunciated.

"You gonna bargain with those plastic bitches or not?"

"Fine!... You know, you're kind of a jerk."

"It can be an advantage," he shrugged coolly.

xxx

Terri rested with her back on a wall of lockers as she watched the high school students rush out of their classes and swarm through the halls. What a load of nobodies, was all she could think to herself, until she saw a boy strutting - yes, quite literally strutting - down the halls, wearing a very asymmetrical cream-colored monogrammed sweater and looking very out of place in the land of micro mini skirts and flannel body warmers. Almost as soon as he appeared around the corner with his gently combed and hair-sprayed chestnut hair, another much huskier boy parted the crowd of teenagers like the red sea and pushed the strutting boy, hard, into a row of lockers, making an audible slam into the metal. The bulky bully stalked away, leaving the smaller boy with his eyebrows knitted angrily and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Perfect, Terri grinned to herself.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she gushed loudly and rushed to the scrawny boy's side.

He looked up, his greenish blue eyes sparkly and alarmed. "I'm okay."

"Your arm must be hurt! I should take you to my office," she nodded, determined, and clutched the boy by his shoulders.

"Really, I'm fine!" he persisted as people started to look his way and snicker.

"No, no, no. You just come right with me. Mama Terri will take care of you," she coddled, and rushed the boy back to her office, sitting him down on the patients' table.

"I'm fine," he said again, more quietly.

"Shh, it's okay," she waved away, and smiled warmly, "What's your name?"

"Kurt," he said, frowning.

"My name is Terri," she smiled, sadly, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. It happens all the time," he shrugged bitterly.

Terri grinned smugly. Jackpot.

"That's terrible! Why has no one done anything about it?"

Kurt shrugged. "People don't really care."

"Is it because you're... different?"

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "If by different you mean gay."

"I do."

"Then yes. People don't really sympathize with something they don't relate with. It's fine."

"It certainly is not. You must be so... angry, all the time."

"You could say that."

"Don't you just wish someone would teach all those bullies a lesson?"

"Yes, quite literally. The school needs to have some sort of class that explains sex education to all orientations, and encourages tolerance."

"Right, of course. You're very mature, but we don't always have to be mature when we're angry. Sometimes even when I don't really mean it, I wish terrible things for the people I don't like. Don't you just wish all bullies would get... eaten by a giant spider or something?"

"There are bullies everywhere," Kurt shrugged, "It's just that this school has the most pathetic anti bullying policies in the state."

"Things like that are out of your hands, aren't they, though?" Terri sighed, impatient, "All we can do is wish for revenge. Or, you know, justice. Don't you ever wish something bad would happen to those boys who pick on you?"

"Yeah, I do have a wish, actually," Kurt nodded, looking angered.

"What is it?" Terri asked eagerly.

"I wish that Karofsky knew exactly what it's like, to be a gay teen in an environment that encourages hetero-normalcy," Kurt frowned, "Can I go now? I'm going to be late for glee club, where I have to sing on my own once again because I'll forever be the odd one out."

Terri puckered her lips and nodded as Kurt slid off the table and walked out of the office.

"Wish granted," she sighed.

xxx

Noah Puckerman walked alongside Buffy Summers through the hallways and probably realized he was the only guy not checking her out.

"God, what is it with you? People either want to be you or bone you."

Buffy scowled. "It's not me, it's Morgan Ru. She ups my popularity so that I'll protect her. It's kind of like the mafia."

"Protect her? What, did the city make you hard?"

"Something like that."

"I can respect that," Puck shrugged, "But I'm not thinking you appreciate the whole infamy."

"I really don't."

"Man, if I weren't pushing you to do this Cheerio thing, I would offer to be your right hand man and threaten this chick to NOT be talking you up so much."

"That would be nice," Buffy sighed, as they approached the doors to the school's gymnasium, "Do I really have to do this?"

"Get in their, Puffy."

Buffy sighed and entered the gym to see a bunch of Cheerios lined up in their red and white uniforms, taking turns doing herkies.

"Higher, Rochelle!" Morgan shouted, pacing the lined up cheerleaders.

Buffy cleared her throat, and Morgan whipped her head around, intrigued to see her there.

"Keep going," she called to the cheerleaders as she walked over to Buffy, "Can I help you?"

"You can, actually. I came to talk to you to see if... If you were still holding that spot open for me."

Buffy swore that Morgan's eyes lit up like a little kid on Christmas Day.

"Buffy, are you considering joining the Cheerios?" she whispered, smiling excitedly.

"Yes-"

"Oh my God, Buffy, this is the best decision you've ever made!" Morgan squealed.

"Not so fast," Buffy shook her head, "I have one condition."

"What? Hair curler? You want to be co-cheer captain? Not the top of the pyramid, though, that's for the head cheerleader," Morgan nodded, "You can't be head cheerleader."

"I don't want to be. I want you to let Quinn Fabray on the team."

Morgan's lip curled up distastefully. "Quinn Fabray? She's not exactly Cheerio material anymore. All she ever does is study since she popped out the little squirt."

"I don't care. She's fit, she's talented, she's... She's Quinn. If she's not on the squad, then neither am I."

Morgan pouted and sighed. "I suppose we can have her in the background, but if she gives me any back sass-"

"Fair enough."

Morgan smiled. "Great. We'll issue you and Fabray a uniform as soon as possible and get you up to speed with the cheers for this Winter's competition."

"Alright," Buffy said, disinterested, "I'll leave you guys for now."

"Bye, Buffy," Morgan waved happily and skipped back to her squad, as Buffy left the gym.

"Are you in?" Puck asked eagerly as Buffy stepped out of the gymnasium doors.

"I'm in," Buffy sighed.

"Alright!" Puck high-fived her, smiling victoriously, "Go Bumpy! I'll catch you later."

Puck sauntered off down the hall as Kurt approached around the corner, looking more melancholy and forlorn than ever, his glasz eyes hitting the floor like anchors.

"Kurt?" said Buffy, and the weary boy looked up.

"Oh, hi, Buffy," he said tiredly as he sidled up to her.

"Are you okay? You look... sad."

He sighed heavily. "It's been a pretty crappy day."

"You want to talk about it?"

Kurt shrugged. "I had to forfeit out of the competition. Apparently the rules that a duet must involve two people are pretty strict."

Buffy frowned sadly. "I'm sorry. There's absolutely no one to duet with?"

He shook his head. "Finn and Rachel, Mike and Tina, Brittany and Artie, you and Sam, Quinn and Mercedes... Puck decided to stay out of this one because he only came back to school today."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. It's just really bad luck this time."

"Yeah, I guess so," he sighed, "Just seems like everyone has someone. But me."

"That's not true-"

"It so is, Buffy," he shook his head, "Mercedes has been flirting with that Shane guy. Even my dad started dating Finn's mom. It was only a matter of time, but now that they are, I just feel like the only single person in Lima."

"You don't need a boyfriend, Kurt," Buffy shook her head.

"Need? No. Wanting is a different story."

"Listen, maybe I can take your mind off of it. You can be my community service."

"What?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow, you and me are ditching school. Sort of."

"And doing what?"

"We're going to kill two birds with one stone. Mr. Schuester announced our competition for Sectionals are an elderly show choir group called the Hipsters, and an all boys' private academy glee club called the Dalton Warblers. I thought we'd head there in the morning and do some sleuthing."

"I do love Nancy Drew," shrugged Kurt, "I'm in."

xxx

Quinn Fabray stacked her books inside of her locker when something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned her head, her hands still hovering idly in her locker, to see Noah Puckerman walking towards her with something limp in his hands. Her mouth hung open as she eyed the polyester cloth he was holding - toothpaste white and fire engine red.

"Puck..." she said.

"Hey, Q," he smiled, excitedly.

"Oh my God, is that...?"

"This? This is for you," he smiled, and put the lump of cloth in her hands.

Feeling around it, she felt the stiff embroidered letters on the chest and squealed with happiness. It was, like she'd secretly hoped, a Cheerios uniform.

"Oh my God, Puck!" Quinn exclaimed, ecstatic, and threw her arms over the boy in a crushing hug.

"No problem, Q," Puck smiled and hugged her back, happy to just hold her.

"Wait," she dropped her smile and let go of the boy, backing away, "Please just tell me you didn't have to kill someone to get this."

"No laws broken," he smirked.

Quinn faked a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how happy this makes me."

"I hope you're being honest."

"Of course I am," Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Cool. Anything else that could make you happy?"

Quinn smirked. "You don't have to grant my every wish, Puck. You're not my fairy godmother."

"Come on. You're my community service, remember?"

"Right," she nodded, still smiling.

"So how'd it go with your mom?" he asked quietly.

Quinn lost her smiled and shrugged. "Not great, but what did I expect? She's just... She's not that great or powerful like you think your mom would be. At some point I guess every girl realizes her mom is just another human being, and not always a good one."

"That sucks."

"No, it's fine. Really. It has me thinking about Beth, though."

"Oh yeah?"

Quinn nodded. She wanted more than anything to tell Puck about Beth possibility doing magic, but that was way too much to explain. She and Santana made a promise years ago not to involve the boy in their otherworldly stuff unless he proved to be a danger. So far, there had only been two instances of his lycanthropy being a danger. Last year, all he'd done was given Finn Hudson a flesh wound, and this year there was his run in with the convenience store. No one had been hurt, but still. Quinn hoped there wouldn't be a third strike.

"I just... wonder about her," she shrugged, "Who her parents are. What they're like. If they're going to tell her that she's adopted."

"You shouldn't think about that stuff, Q. There's nothing you can do."

"I know that. It's hard to stop, though."

"I know what you mean."

"I want to see her, Puck."

"What?"

"Well, she's probably still in Lima. She must be in Ohio, at least. It can't be that hard to find her. I bet her name is still Beth and everything. She'll probably have a different last name, but still..." Quinn sighed, a little disappointed that she won't be looking for a Beth Puckerman or a Beth Fabray.

"Quinn, you can't go looking for Beth."

"Why not? She's my daughter. I should have done it a long time ago. I should have never given her up."

"That's not true. She's better off. You think the best thing for her is being raised by two broke teenagers? I don't even know where your living, Quinn."

"With my cousins, I told you."

"Yeah, sure."

"What would be so bad about it? Just... visiting."

"Because, Quinn. You'll see her and she'll be perfect and you won't want to leave her again."

"But we could visit all the time, like some sort of uncle and aunt."

"What makes you think her parents will be okay with that? You're getting way ahead of yourself."

Quinn sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

"Just please, don't do anything crazy."

"I won't."

xxx

Buffy rested her head against the passenger seat window of Kurt's car, immobile in the parking lot of Dalton Academy. Her hair made thin lines in the window's condensation and she sighed wearily, one earbud in her ear filling her head with Ben Lee. Her original plan to get Kurt's mind off of his own depression was making her die a slow death by boredom. Kurt had been in that fancy private school long enough. She had no idea what was keeping him.

She felt her phone buzz once in the pocket of her jeans and she fished it out eagerly, happy to have any distraction from the condensation on the window or the flecks of dust on the dashboard. It was from Sam Evans.

**Where r u?**

For some reason, the question alone made her smile, and she wasted no time texting back.

**Ditched school to spy on Dalton w/ Kurt. What's up?**

**We won :D**

Buffy took a sharp intake of breath, genuinely surprised.

**The duet comp? Srsly?**

**Yeah :) We get one free date at Breadstix**

Buffy frowned and bit her bottom lip. Date? Maybe he didn't mean it to sound so... date-ish... but all the same, it made Buffy's stomach turn uncomfortably, and she forgot to text back as Kurt piled back into the driver's seat.

"Sorry I took so long!" he exclaimed, an excited smile on his face.

"What did you see?"

"Buffy, the Warblers are amazing!" he smiled, for some reason happy about this.

"Oh no," she frowned.

"Yeah, but it's weird because their glee club is like... popular. Everybody thinks they're the cool kids."

"No way."

"Yeah, and I talked to a few of them... Oh my gosh, Buffy, one of them is seriously cute."

Buffy smiled eagerly. "Ooh, mixing business with pleasure, are we?" she teased, "Nancy Drew never did that."

"Well, Nancy Drew never encountered a young Burt Reynolds in a blazer singing Katy Perry songs."

"He sounds delicious."

"The best part is, I might actually have a shot."

"You mean he's...?"

"Playing on Team Gay, yes," Kurt smiled, "Thank you so much for bringing me here!"

"No problem," Buffy smiled, happy for Kurt. At least one of them had hopes for a normal, healthy relationship.

xxx

Kurt Hummel's day was ten times better than the day before. He drove himself and Buffy back to school and walked to his lockers for the textbooks for whatever classes he had left, absent-mindedly trying to remember each detail of the boy he'd met that day at Dalton Academy. _Blaine Anderson_. It was the sexiest name he'd ever heard. The boy himself was a smiling and bashful bowl of handsome with thick, dark hair and a vaguely Eurasian look about him. Talented to boot. Kurt felt like squealing like a little girl just thinking about him. _And gay_. Kurt didn't mean to sound shallow, but that was the most important thing about Blaine Anderson. Kurt had a chance. Finally. He finally had a chance to be with a gorgeous, smart, talented boy that he actually liked. The possibilities felt like heaven. His phone buzzed in the pocket of his sweater and he picked it out. It was from _him._

**Courage.**

That was all. Simple. Beautiful. Someone who understands how much he needs support. Kurt smiled so widely it hurt, until his phone was slapped right out of his hands. He looked up in shock and saw Dave Karofsky, as bulky and bloated as ever, leering down at him with his angry eyes. And usually those eyes were mocking and judging, but right now, they were furious. He made an expression that said that whatever he did to Kurt, Kurt deserved. The look itself stunned Kurt into silence, until the larger boy walked away.

Kurt clenched his fists. He was sick of this. Sick of being picked on and treated like less than a person day after day. Dave Karofsky had no right, not at all, to treat Kurt like he did. Kurt picked his phone up from the tiled floors and bounded after him.

"Hey!" he called, and followed Dave into the locker room, outraged, "I am talking to you!"

His shouts gave off a kind of desperation that he didn't want Dave to hear. "Girls' locker room is next door," said Dave coolly as he took clothes from his locker and shoved them into his duffel bag.

It was his passive tone that enraged Kurt even more. He wanted to be taken seriously. "What is your problem?" demanded Kurt, walking up to the larger boy.

"Excuse me?" Dave raised an eyebrow.

"What are you so scared of?" asked Kurt, getting more and more fired up with every word. He wanted Dave to get mad.

"Other than you sneaking' in here to peek at my junk?" Dave scoffed.

"Oh yeah, every straight guys nightmare! That all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you! Well, guess what, ham hock? You're not my type," Kurt spat bitterly and angrily.

"That right?"

"Yeah. I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are gonna be bald by the time they're thirty."

"Don't push me, Hummel!" Karofsky yelled like an angry bull, raising his fist.

"You gonna hit me?" asked Kurt, "Do it."

Go on, hit me, thought Kurt, I dare you.

"Don't push me!"

"Hit me, 'cause it's not gonna change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you. You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

Dave closed in on him and Kurt closed his eyes, bracing himself until he didn't understand what was happening. Dave's arms were on Kurt's shoulders and he was... kissing him. He let go of the embrace and Kurt's mouth simply hung open, in shock. They'd kissed... It was all Kurt could think. It bounced of the walls and in his brain. He couldn't really swallow that fact. Dave Karofsky had kissed him. Was he dreaming? Was it real? Had Dave Karofsky mistaken the anger in this confrontation for passion? What was supposed to happen now? Dave ducked in to kiss him again, but Kurt, on instinct, pushed him away. The football player's face grew hot and he punched his locker and stormed out of the locker room.

Kurt didn't even realize he was touching his mouth, still tasting Dave's lips.

"Oh, God," he whispered to himself. Such a liberating fight had turned into something much more personal.

xxx

"Gay?"

"Gay."

"As in... homosexual? He finds himself sexually attracted to other male humans?"

Terri nodded before her Master, the all powerful and pallid blue D'Hoffryn.

"I am sorely disappointed," he shook his head.

Terri pouted as she stood below D'Hoffryn in his dark and dank cave. "I thought you'd be happy. High schools are hot-spots for vengeance."

"Which is why I'm so disappointed, Terri," sighed D'Hoffryn, genuinely unimpressed, "You can really afford to be more creative. Being a homosexual is hardly a curse."

"It's different in high school," Terri shrugged, "He'll get tortured. Not literally, but basically."

D'Hoffryn shook his head. "For the next three years? A blip on the radar of a human life."

"High school has a bigger effect on humans than you think. He'll probably remember being bullied for the rest of his life."

"Regardless," sighed D'Hoffryn, "This is no curse fit for a vengeance demon. Warping someone's sexuality is pointless fodder, not a cruel and unusual punishment. I honestly thought you could do better."

"You don't understand-"

"You think I don't understand? You think I haven't seen the ways humans live? This David Karofsky will suffer tortured inner turmoil for the next three years, until he matures, accepts himself and lives happily for the rest of his days with a suitable mate and possibly alternatively produced offspring. This isn't what I pay you to do."

Terri sighed. "I'm sorry, I just... Well, the boy wished it."

"And for any other vengeance demon, it would have been enough for the time being, but for you, Terri? Your work has been abysmal. I ask you for an epic wish to clean your slate of terrible ones and you deliver pubic louse. I ask you again, you give me a sexually confused teenager. I really hope the third time is the charm, Terri."

"You're giving me one more chance?"

"One more! You have until next year's Winter solstice."

"Thank you, D'Hoffryn."

"Terri?"

"Yes?"

"Third strike... and you're out."


	34. The Cheerios

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

****Buffy at long last joined the Cheerios, as long as Quinn got to join too

**Buffy: But I don't want to be a Cheerio.**

**Puck: That's irrelevant.**

McKinley has a new school nurse.

**Will: Why are you here?**

**Terri: I'm the new school nurse.**

And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

A tight itch around her midriff bugged Buffy to no end, but she refrained from scratching. The elastic waist of her brand new Cheerios skirt gave her pink little toothpick marks on her skin. She hated having to wear the red and white polyester outfit everywhere she went, but Morgan Ru was adamant that they had to represent their decorated team. It wasn't just the outfits that were uncomfortable, but the tight, regulation ponytail stretched Buffy's forehead, too.

"I'm going to get wrinkles from this hairdo," she sulked unhappily as she watched people pass by, comfortable in jeans and cute wedge shoes that she would rarely get a chance to wear anymore. She looked adorable, sure, and it definitely added to her rep, but these weren't the things she'd been worried about.

"And from all that frowning," Tina added, leaning against the wall and smiling shyly.

"How am I supposed to smile under these circumstances? Between slaying and glee club and Cheerios, when is a girl supposed to relax?" Buffy sighed and pushed a lock of dark gold hair behind her ear. She would have to remember to tighten her pony before History with Morgan.

"I think Mr. Schuester is more concerned about training than relaxing," Tina shrugged quietly.

Buffy scowled, her shoulders sinking with her mood. "See? Another good reason why I can't date Sam Evans. I just don't have enough time on my hands to deal with a relationship on top of everything."

"Uh huh," Tina murmured.

She'd heard Buffy spew excuse after excuse for days about why she shouldn't be dating a boy she had such amazing chemistry with. Tina chose not to get in the middle of it. Rachel, however, didn't feel the same.

"Buffy, if I may, I don't think you'd be having this problem if you would just stick a simple routine," Rachel said matter-of-factly, on Buffy's other side.

Buffy rolled her eyes to the ceiling. According to Rachel Berry, there was nothing a simple routine couldn't solve.

"You have Cheerios practise Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays instead of PE, and from four to five on Fridays. Patrolling the graveyard is most nights at midnight, depending on the vampiric activity of any given day. You can train with Mr. Schuester Thursdays and Fridays from six to seven. Glee club practise is during free period on weekdays and perhaps impromptu practise at my house on Saturdays. It leaves you many windows open for free time, with at least every Sunday," Rachel shrugged simply.

Buffy blinked at the wall. "You've really thought about this," she said lowly.

"It sounds pretty solid to me," Tina smirked.

"Thank you!" Rachel exclaimed, proudly.

"Yeah, if you don't count the time taken away by the praying mantis women and the organ eating demons and the invisible girls, then sure, I have all the time in the world, but unfortunately, we live on the Hellmouth, where anything can happen and does. I don't have time to worry about the volume of my pom poms or how tight my ponytail is when my friends are being possessed by hyenas or seduced by killer robots!" she hissed, frustrated.

Rachel and Tina glanced at each other, and nodded sheepishly.

"I guess I didn't think about that," Rachel mumbled.

"Whatever," Buffy sighed, leaning her head against the lockers as a headache began to form, "I'm just in a major funk."

"Well, this probably isn't going to help, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor," said Tina.

"What is it?" Buffy asked warily, with one eye open.

"I've been researching Spike non-stop, but not a lot comes up. I was wondering if you could maybe use your... connections, to get some information," Tina said quietly, warily eyeing their surroundings for eavesdroppers.

Buffy raised a fair eyebrow. "Connections?"

"Santana?" said Tina, keeping her voice down.

"Oh," said Buffy, and looked down at the tiled floor.

She hadn't seeked Santana out to talk in a vast amount of time. She wondered if stopping by for information would seem rude.

"Is that okay?" asked Tina, her dark eyebrows knitted together, "It's just that she might have heard something about him from other vampires..."

"No, yeah. Sure," Buffy nodded quickly, "I'll talk to her."

"Great," smiled Tina, and Buffy bit her lip.

She was a little anxious to speak to the vampire now. She wasn't sure where they stood in terms of a relationship - Could slayers even be friends with vampires? Was that breaking some sort of code of conduct? - but Buffy was sure that Santana was the only one who could understand what it was like being... different.

"What are you doing for Halloween?" Rachel asked casually.

"Halloween?" Buffy cried, "I completely forgot! I'm such an airhead. I don't even know what month it is. Or what year it is!"

"I was thinking we could all have a horror movie marathon at my house," Tina smiled hopefully, "We could all watch Dracula and point out how inaccurate it is. I mean, it's probably too late to plan anything else."

"Yeah, that sounds nice," sighed Buffy, and wondered how healthy it was to take a break from monsters in order to have a monsterfest.

Her train of thought was lost as Mr. Schuester walked past, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrow. _That doesn't look good, _thought Buffy.

"Guys, I'll catch up to you later," she said, and parted ways with her friends to catch up with her watcher, "Will?"

Will's attention snapped to Buffy, and his face softened at the sight of her.

"Oh, Buffy, hi..."

"Are you okay? You seem-"

"You're a Cheerio."

"What? Oh... Yeah," Buffy sheepishly looked down at her bright polyester outfit, "The skirt itches."

Mr. Schuester's eyes swivelled over her outfit a moment, but he seemed too distracted to give her a lecture about putting her slaying first.

"It's a little... short," he noted.

"Yeah..." Buffy blushed. Every now and then, Will would comment on Buffy's clothes, like he was her father, which always embarrassed her greatly. If he took such notice to the hem of her skirts and the cut of her blouses, did he ever notice her wearing his cuff links as earrings in sophomore year?

"Has your mom seen it?"

"Yeah. She's really just happy that I'm cheerleading again. She thinks me losing interest in jumping and squealing is why I started getting into trouble."

"Right," mumbled Will, scratching the back of his head absently.

"So... Are you okay? You seem like something's bothering you."

"Oh, no. I mean, yes. It's just... Someone from high school showed up today-"

"Nurse Delmonico? I heard all about it. I completely forgot that you had an ex-wife. Is it tough seeing her?"

Buffy bit her lip. She couldn't imagine her watcher in any sort of relationship, except for the coy, flirty one he had with Ms. Pillsbury.

"No. I mean, yes. It's not about Terri. It's someone else."

"Who?"

Will took a deep breath. "Bryan Ryan," he said with a tone of grave finality, and a hint of a shudder.

"Who?" Buffy curled her lip at the ridiculous rhyming name.

"Bryan Ryan was a classmate of mine," sighed Will, "He made my life a living hell. He was smarter, better looking and dated all of the girls that I liked. Except Terri. It was the one thing I had that he was jealous of."

"And he's back, why?"

Will clenched his jaw again, looking annoyed. "Apparently, he's a member of the school board," Will said acidly, like he couldn't believe the audacity, "He's doing an audit of the curriculum."

"So?"

"So... He might cut the glee club."

xxx

Bryan Ryan strode through McKinley High like he owned the place, because the key to success was confidence. He'd read it in many a motivational self help book on his way to recovery from a show choir melt down in his twenties, and now he was back in Lima, with a purpose.

Despite his cocky smirk and easy swagger, his stomach clenched nervously as he neared the nurse's office. The label on the door read, 'Nurse Delmonico', and dozens of fantasies of teenage Terri in spandex nurse uniforms that relentlessly hugged her waist popped into his remarkably visual mind. He opened the door and took a step in to hear the tinny sounds of Hoarders coming from the portable TV on the nurse's desk. He smiled at the sight of Terri sitting on the chair with her smooth legs propped up on the table, painting her nails a shade of giddy pink.

"Nurse Delmonico?"

"Take an Aspirin and lie down."

Bryan cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm here to speak to an old acquaintance."

Terri looked up from her cutely colored nails and turned to Bryan, her expression turning from brief confusion to recognition in a matter of seconds.

"Bryan Ryan."

"You remember me," he smirked happily.

"How could I forget you? You followed me around like a lost puppy as soon as I hit puberty until the day I married Will."

"Do you blame me? You were Terri Delmonico, the queen bee, the it girl. Everyone wanted a piece."

Terri set down her bottle of nail polish and smirked. "Yeah, well..."

"And then you were Terri Schuester for a while."

Terri shrugged. "Not anymore."

"Cute nail polish."

"Thanks..." Terri splayed her fingers out in front of her, "It's called Fire Island. I got it at the pharmacy."

"It's the same that you wore in high school."

Terri nodded, disinterested. "Look, can I help you? Because I haven't seen this episode."

"They find a dead cat under the couch."

Terri pursed her lips together and pressed mute on her TV. "That's every episode. What do you want?"

Bryan smiled warmly. There she was in all her glory, cute and confident. Only now, she was so much more interesting than she was in high school.

"I guess I need a connection. I just came back to Lima."

"And I'm supposed to care?"

"Well," Bryan shrugged, "I think you could be a big help. See, I came back for a couple reasons. One is to see you. One is that my wife kicked me out because of my slightly disturbing hidden collection of playbills. And another, is, well... Revenge."

Terri looked up, her attention hooked and eagerly awaiting some explanation. "Revenge?"

"You're the one that got away, Terri. Maybe I'm a fool in love, but I never got over you."

Terri scowled. "And what? Now you want to get back at me for snubbing you in high school? That's not pathetic," she sighed sarcastically.

"Not you. Schuester."

Terri raised an eyebrow and gave Bryan her full attention. "What did Will do to you?"

"He took you, Terri. He used up all of your best years and dumped you flat on your face. You don't deserve that."

"Well, I did fake a pregnancy."

"And? If I ever had the chance to be your husband, I would delight in all the fake pregnancies you could ever have."

Terri's lip twitched. "So what kind of revenge did you have in mind?"

"Only the kind that I hear you can help with."

Terri narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Where did you hear-?"

"It's not important. The point is that I know. And I know about Will, too."

"What about Will?" Terri asked quietly.

"I know the reason why you two moved to England straight after graduation," Bryan said smugly, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

Terri looked genuinely taken aback. "The Watcher's Council..."

"Uh huh. Our little William's a watcher. I would never have thought."

"I guess it was like a family business."

"His father was a watcher, too?"

Terri nodded. "And his mother."

"No way! Drunk Debbie?"

Terri looked back down at her nails, wondering if she was crossing some sort of line in sharing Will's personal information with his high school nemesis. Then again, Terri didn't owe Will Schuester a damn thing.

"Yeah, well, there was a reason Debra was such a lush and it wasn't because of her swirly husband," Terri said bitterly.

"What was it?"

"Will's mother was the watcher of a slayer. Not the one before this one, but the one before that."

"Really?" Bryan folded his arms, interested.

"Mm hm. Elizabeth Martin. We went to high school with her, remember?"

"No kidding. Lizzy Martin? Yeah, I remember. She was a few years older. In glee club with us. Sort of bookish. Never would have pegged her for a slayer."

Terri nodded. "She died a few years after graduation. It took a real toll on Mrs. Schuester, though. She never could get over losing Lizzy."

"Sounds like the only way to destroy a watcher is to destroy the slayer," Bryan shrugged cryptically.

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm saying that a slayer's got a lot of power, Terri. Too much power for me to overcome on my own, you get me?"

Terri looked down at her scrubs uncomfortably. "I get you."

xxx

Buffy had to admit, the Cheerios uniform had its perks. And not the extra glances and the new found respect her classmates had for her, but more practical ones. She found herself a lot more limber in the graveyard now that she wasn't restricted by jeans and jackets.

"Q?"

Buffy whirled around, wary of creatures even on a quiet night like this one.

"Slayer?" Santana wrinkled her brow and walked out of the shadows of an wide tree, "I thought you were Quinn."

Buffy blushed and looked down at her outfit. "Yeah, well..."

"Don't tell me that that's how she got back on the squad? By association?"

"Me and the lipstick trolls made a compromise," Buffy shrugged, "Anyways, I'm glad I caught you."

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Um, yeah. Me and the scooby gang haven't exactly gotten very far concerning research on Spike, so..."

"Ah. And I'm your confidential informant," smirked Santana.

"I guess you could say that."

"It's too bad. I don't know anything about the guy. But if I find anything out, you and the supernatural research brigade will be the first to know."

"Awesome," Buffy smiled, and breathed in the cold night air, "So... how've you been?"

"Small talk isn' your strong suit, Killer."

"So I've been told. It's just that we never seem to talk unless there's some sort of danger involved."

"Danger's rarely out of the picture."

"I hear you. Believe me. But don't you wish we could be friends?"

Santana smirked with amusement. "Why would you want to be friends with me, Slayer?"

Buffy shrugged awkwardly. "I guess because... we understand each other better than anyone else."

"How so?"

"We're different from everyone else. I mean, no one else can really get what it's like to be us, can they? We have all this... darkness. The darkness is our home. We always come back to it," Buffy said thoughtfully.

Santana shook her head, laughing bitterly. "Do you really think you understand? 'Cause you might want to think again, Killer. I get it. You're dark. You're dangerous. You're burdened. But look at you. During the day, you get to put on your cheerleading outfit and hang out with your friends and join the masses of normality. Me? The darkness isn't my home, Buffy. It's my prison."

Buffy looked down at the wet grass. She'd never thought about it like that. "All the more reason for us to be friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at you. You're so alone."

Santana pursed her lips and shrugged. "Well, maybe that's how it's supposed to be."

"Or maybe you need to stop punishing yourself."

Santana rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Maybe. Whatever. Anyways, you can't tell me that you have nowhere else to be tonight."

Buffy sighed and checked her watch. "Actually, I do. And I'm late."

xxx

Sam Evans crushed a stick of stale bread into dust on his clean, empty plate. He kept picking at the breadsticks in their red tartan basket so that the waitresses wouldn't ask him to leave. He was used to Buffy Summers being a flake, but that didn't mean he was impervious to having his feelings hurt. Clearly, she had something else going on that was more important than him, but what else could he expect? She was one of the most popular girls in school and he was just the new kid. It was a gift from God that he even had the chance to have dinner with her tonight, and not because she was so cool and popular, but because she was so enthralling. He hung on to every word that came out of her mouth, and not in a hero worship way, per se, but in a genuinely interested way.

She was hilarious, in such a secretly nerdy way, and everything she talked about and cared about was nothing short of magical. Sometimes he had to stop himself from idolizing her the way he did, but he could rarely help it.

"This place is so dead tonight."

Sam looked up from his crumbled breadsticks to see Morgan Ru sliding eagerly into the booth opposite him.

"Um..."

"So you're Sam Evans, right?"

Sam nodded, his eyes shifting anxiously from Morgan to the entrance of Breadstix. He really didn't want Buffy to walk in and think he was replacing her with her cheer captain.

"You probably know that I'm Morgan Ru because I'm the captain of the Cheerios and everyone talks about me," said Morgan as she picked at the wax grapes that decorated the fringe of the table, "Since you're the new quarterback and I'm the head cheerleader, people sort of expect us to date, you know?"

"I'm waiting for someone," said Sam, his jaw clenched nervously.

"Good, I was waiting for Dave Karofsky, but as always, he's late. Like being on the football team gives him the right to flake. Sometimes I wonder what happened to him. He used to be so into me," she sighed, melancholy.

Sam nodded absentmindedly. "I'm waiting for Buffy."

Morgan looked up, surprised. "No way. You're Buffy's new beau?"

"Uh, well-"

"Damn," she sighed, "Okay. Sorry. Bye. Don't tell Buffy I was here."

"Uh, okay..." Sam mumbled as Morgan slid back out of the booth and hurried away.

He wondered briefly what kind of hold Buffy Summers had over her people, until the blond entered the restaurant and made him completely forget what he was thinking about.

"Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly and smiled as she took a seat, "You haven't been waiting too long, have you?"

"Nope," he lied, "Well, kind of."

"Sorry," she cringed, a lock of hair coming loose from her tight ponytail, "I had Cheerios practise."

"Really? Morgan was here."

"She was?" Buffy pushed her hair behind her ear, "Well, I had to catch up on routines. I only joined last week."

"Yeah, of course," Sam nodded, "So... why did you join?"

Buffy picked up a plastic menu and held it between her hands. "For a friend."

Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Buffy sighed with a reluctant smile.

"Quinn," she continued, "She sort of fell out with the Cheerio crowd, and I joined so that they would let her join again."

"That's nice of you..." Sam said thoughtfully, and pushed away his plate of crumbled breadsticks, "I didn't know you and Quinn were friends."

"Well, I don't know..." Buffy shrugged, "Maybe we're not, but she's been through a lot with the glee club, so I think it counts for something. That, and Puck used his evil persuasion on me."

"Ah. Puck and Quinn are like... an item?"

"Not so sure," Buffy shrugged, taking a strange comfort in being able to talk about the intricacies of other people's lives rather than her own, "It kind of seems like he's still hung up on her, but she's not interested. I guess you can afford to be picky when you're Quinn Fabray."

"Well, so can you," Sam shrugged coyly.

Buffy blushed, and put her plastic menu back down on the tabletop. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"It's cool... hanging out with you-"

"It's cool hanging out with you, too," he smiled happily, looking at her from under his brown eyelashes with bright blue doe eyes.

"And we're here because we're friends..." Buffy said uncertainly, "And because we have a coupon."

Sam's eyes swivelled over the tabletop, disappointed, but his sweet smile remained. "Yeah, I know."

Buffy nodded. "Good."

xxx

Quinn slipped her graph copy into her Geometry textbook and tossed it back into her bag, finished with that night's homework exercises. The Lopez-Fabray household, as she liked to call it, had fallen into a comfortable and predictable routine lately. Sofia got a job at Sheets 'n Things. New assistant manager. She was very proud of herself. She still got home in time to make dinner every evening, and after making small talk with Quinn during their meal, she would head to the living room to watch her telenovelas and Quinn would retreat to her room to study and finish her homework.

She put her school books away, satisfied with how much she got done tonight. She was back on her way to straight As. She checked her watch. Ten. Santana should be awake. Quinn sighed and rose from her bed. Something about the routine made her feel safe, and she didn't want it to end, not really, but something in her needed it to. She couldn't stop thinking about what she said to Puck earlier that week, and now whenever she felt a pang for Beth, she knew her infant was doing witchcraft, however possible. She needed to see her daughter, if only to quell her curiosity. She also worried, in the back of her mind, that Beth's adoptive parents would find out about her abilities and treat her like a monster. She didn't want another person to have to feel like that - to have to worry that there was a demon inside of them. Perhaps it was irrational, but Quinn often worried about going to Heaven. She wondered if it were possible, and if God could really forgive everyone. Even freaks of nature like her.

Quinn left her bedroom, still decked in her Cheerios uniform, and crossed the hall to knock on Santana's bedroom door.

"Come on," she heard the girl say from the inside, and Quinn pushed open her door.

Santana slipped on a pair of jeans as Quinn flopped down on her bed. "Did you sleep well?" Quinn asked, flicking a red tassel on the end of one of Santana's throw pillows.

"Like the dead."

A ball bubbled up in Quinn's dry throat, threatening to smother the words she wanted to say. "So, if I said something really crazy, would you just pretend that it's somewhat rational?" she asked quietly.

Santana threw a tight t-shirt over her shoulders and pulled it down over herself. "Did you sleep with Puck again?"

"No," Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"Finn?"

Quinn shook her head. "No."

"Berry?"

Quinn frowned and threw the throw pillow and the back of Santana's head with all of her strength. "NO!"

"Alright, alright," Santana chuckled, "What's up?"

Quinn sat up straight and sighed. "I want to meet Beth."

Santana didn't react, but sighed through her nose and let it sink in for a few long moments. "Is that even possible?"

"Yeah, probably. If I went to the hospital and found the birth records or something. It's what they do in movies."

"Aren't they confidential?"

"I can work my way around that."

"Of course you can," Santana smirked, "Are you sure you want to?"

"What do you mean?"

Santana sighed. "I mean... What if you meet her and leaving her breaks your heart all over again?"

Quinn frowned and kept her eyes down on the carpet. Puck had said the same thing, more or less. "I just... I need to know about her. What if she was better off here after all?"

"She wouldn't be, Q. Who's supposed to take care of her when you're at school and Sofia's at work and I'm sleeping the sleep of the undead? I mean, come on."

"I know," Quinn grumbled, "I get it. I just... I just want to meet her, Santana."

Santana sighed sadly. "I know you do. I can't even imagine it... Look, my opinion is that it's probably not a good idea, okay? But that's just me. You should do whatever you think you should, and whatever that is, I'll support you."

Quinn smiled thankfully. "Thank you."

"What are friends for? And you can do me a favor, too."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and smiled. "What is it?"

"I think it's about time that Santana Lopez came back to Lima," she smiled mischeviously.

"What does that mean?" Quinn crossed her legs and gripped her knee with both hands.

"Sofia is visiting her sister Isabella this weekend, so I'm thinking it's the perfect time for a good old fashioned Halloween party with the parents out of town. You, my dear, are going to spread the word at McKinley that Santana Lopez is back for the weekend and serving everything from Wine Coolers to hard liquor at her old house," Santana winked playfully.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Come on, Q, I need to get socialized sometime," Santana smirked, "And I have the perfect costume!"


	35. The Halloween Party

So here's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth:

****Halloween is coming up and Santana has big plans.

**Santana: Sofia is visiting her sister this weekend, so I'm thinking it's the perfect time for a good old fashioned Halloween party with the parents out of town.**

While an old acquaintance of Will's is back in town.

**Will: Bryan Ryan was a classmate of mine. He made my life a living hell. He was smarter, better looking and dated all of the girls that I liked. Except Terri. It was the one thing I had that he was jealous of.**

And Bryan Ryan is looking for revenge.

**Terri: And what? Now you want to get back at me for snubbing you in high school? That's not pathetic.**

**Bryan: Not you. Schuester.**

Brittany got a boyfriend.

**Brittany: Artie Abrams, that cyborg boy-**

**Santana: That boy in the wheelchair?"**

**Brittany: Yeah... We've been dating for about a week now... I took his virginity.**

****Awkward. And that's what you missed on The Other Hellmouth.

xxx

"Did you hear?"

"She's back!"

"I can't believe it's tomorrow. I have nothing to wear!"

Quinn edged her way through hordes of her classmates as they chattered excitedly about Santana's Halloween party tomorrow. She'd assumed that people had forgotten about Santana, but it turned out that people were equally thrilled and terrified about the former diva's 'return'. The notorious reputation that Santana earned during her days as a high school student was truly immortal, just like her. _She would love to hear that, _Quinn thought with a smirk.

"Oh, Quinn!" Rachel greeted, her eyes lighting up as she spotted the girl entering the choir room, "I'm assuming you know all about Santana's party."

"Uh huh," Quinn nodded back, still gripping some notebooks close to her chest as she took a seat, "You're welcome to come, if you want."

Rachel smiled brightly. "Thank you!"

"I thought you hated Santana?" Tina asked quietly.

"Hate is a strong word," Rachel beamed, "But an accurate one."

Buffy chuckled, pulling at the elastic waist of her Cheerios skirt. "So why do you want to go so bad?"

"I've never been to a house party before," Rachel shrugged simply, "I think this is an opportunity that we should seize. You'll come, right Finn?"

Rachel looked expectantly at her tall boyfriend sitting beside her. She had no doubt that he would agree with her, as he always did. Quinn had to smirk to herself. Lately, she hardly noticed Finn's existence, and mostly accepted him to be Rachel Berry's oversized accessory. His sole purpose seemed to be to nod and smile whenever she talked.

"Yeah. Totally," he nodded, and Rachel quickly looked back at Quinn.

"Should I bring something?" she asked politely, "A fruit cake? Some vegan pumpkin souffles, perhaps? They're my fathers' specialty."

Quinn smiled to herself and crossed her legs. "That's okay, Rachel, you don't have to bring anything. Santana and I are getting ready at Brittany's house beforehand, though, if you want to come," she added nonchalantly.

She stole a glance at the pleasant surprise on Rachel's face. The unholy trinity had never offered to do anything with her before. Quinn flashed back to how terribly they used to treat the poor girl and cringed inwardly, crippled with guilt.

"That sounds terrific," she smiled warmly, folding her hands over her lap, "Can Tina and Buffy come?"

"Sure," Quinn said quietly as Rachel's two best friends looked up.

"Oh, I don't think-" Tina said in a small voice.

"Maybe not," said Buffy.

"What do you mean?" asked Rachel, looking disappointed. Unlike her boyfriend, her friends didn't habitually agree with everything she said.

"I thought we were going to have a monsterfest," Tina said quietly, twiddling her thumbs.

"Yeah, I kind of wanted to relax tonight," said Buffy, her eyes swivelling around the choir room for anyone who wasn't already in the know, "Halloween is the one quiet night a year for the Hellmouth."

"Really?" asked Quinn, amused, "Halloween?"

"Yeah. I guess vamps just aren't amused by life imitating death," shrugged Buffy.

"Regardless," Rachel sighed, becoming frustrated, "You guys have to go! It's going to be the biggest party of the year."

"Since when did you care so much about social gatherings?" Mike asked quietly, looking up from his Physics textbooks, with one arm slung around the back of Tina's chair.

Rachel frowned. "Finn, say something" she urged.

Finn knitted his eyebrows together and leaned forward. "You guys, we're only gonna be teenagers once. If we don't take this opportunity to let loose a little, when will we ever?" he asks, trying to muster up his best inspirational speech giving voice.

"I guess," shrugged Mike.

"Yeah," Quinn agreed, and smiled at Buffy and Tina, "You guys should come. Santana would want you to."

Tina looked heavily doubtful, but Buffy mulled it over. She felt she had to at least make an effort to befriend the vampire.

"Okay," Buffy nodded, "We can have a monsterfest any time."

"I guess..." sighed Tina.

"I guess that means we need to elect someone as a designated driver," Finn grinned eagerly, and quickly brought a finger to the tip of his nose, "Not it!"

"I volunteer," Rachel beamed helpfully.

Finn's face fell. "You mean... you won't be drinking?"

"Of course not," said Rachel, looking stern, "Finn, I don't drink."

Finn looked surprised, slumping in his seat. "No wonder I never got past first base..." he muttered.

"You guys, the party is tomorrow," Buffy reminded, "Where are we supposed to get costumes on such short notice?"

xxx

"Delmonico."

Terri looked up from her copy of In Touch to see Bryan Ryan leaning against the door frame of her nurse's office. It had only been a day, and she was itching with curiosity for what revenge he had planned to take on her ex-husband.

"May I exercise one of my wishes?" he asked, smirking cheekily.

Terri grinned. "I'm not a genie, Bryan. There isn't a limited amount."

"Good, because I'll need a couple."

"And what's the first? Don't forget, you have to say 'I wish'," said Terri.

xxx

"Are you going to Santana's party?" asked Finn. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and waited for Puck to finish drinking out of the water fountain in the hallway.

He'd given in and forgiven his old friend for his betrayal last year, mainly because it was hard enough going through high school without someone on your side. Not that he didn't like Rachel's friends, but that was just it. They were Rachel's friends. There was no one to vent to about girl problems and school pressures. He and Puck had a whole lot of history, and that counted for something.

"Totally, man. I haven't seen that chica since the start of sophomore year. Man, was she a trip," Puck chuckled to himself and almost got lost in flashbacks of Santana Lopez and her scandalous escapades.

"Do you think you two are gonna hook up tomorrow?"

"Nuh uh, dude. I'm going straight edge."

"No way," Finn smirked, "You?"

"Yeah, man," Puck shrugged, "Look, I know you might still be sore about the subject, but Quinn and I have this crazy chemistry. That, and she's my baby mama. We're, like, meant to be."

"I guess," Finn shrugged.

He wasn't very sensitive about what happened last year anymore. He was more or less over Quinn Fabray. Having Rachel was so much better... or he thought it was, anyways. It was starting to prove to be pretty much the same. He still got bossed around to no end and she didn't put out, even a little.

"You're lucky, man."

"Huh?" Finn looked to his friend.

"You've got Rachel. I mean, she's loud and annoying, but still. You bagged yourself a hot little Jewish American princess. Kudos. Neurotic chick like that's gotta be freaky, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Finn nodded, "Well, no."

"You know, man. An animal."

"What?"

"In bed?"

"Oh," Finn chuckled, "No, Rachel and I haven't slept together. Actually, we haven't really done... anything."

"Anything?" Puck raised an eyebrow, disbelieving, "Wait, so you're saying... You've still got your V card?"

Finn squirmed, and nodded reluctantly. "Yeah."

"Damn," Puck shook his head, "That is just not acceptable."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? She's so uptight about that kind of stuff all the time. What happened to what she said last year? Girls want to have sex as much as guys do. That's must have been a load of crap, because I'm going crazy about her," Finn ran his fingers through his brown hair, frustrated, "If she wants to have sex, then it sure as hell isn't with me."

Puck shook his head. "Man, this is why us guys need to dabble a little before we get tied down. I thank God for giving me those years of playing the field. Now I feel, like, accomplished enough to settle down with Quinn. If she wants me. That's another story, man."

Finn sighed. "Why is it that the girls always get to call the shots?"

"If you don't like it, dude, change it."

"What do you mean?"

"The party tomorrow night. Get your mac on with some desperate chick! Go all the way!"

"Dude, no," Finn shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans and stared at the floor, "I can't cheat on Rachel."

"Dude, you have to. What if she wants to wait until she's, like, twenty five?"

Finn chewed the inside of cheek. "Still..."

"It's not like she's ever going to find out."

Puck headed down the hall towards the gym as the bell rang for next period, leaving Finn to mull it over. His shoulders tensed as he considered the idea.

xxx

"Am I the only one who thinks this is a little... weird?" asked Tina.

Rachel took a pumpkin shaped hat down from a shop shelf and inspected it with a smile.

"I think it's fun," she shrugged, "Halloween is supposed to be weird, right? I thought you liked all that stuff."

Tina shook her head and folded her arms as other people passed her, meandering around racks and shelves of clothes and accessories fit for an insane variety of creative Halloween costumes. This wasn't the kind of shop you could find in the Lima Mall. It was one of the scooby gang's side street discoveries, and yet somehow a small shop like this was flooded with people who needed last minute costumes.

"I don't mean Halloween," said Tina, as she absentmindedly sifted through stacks of packaged costumes, "I mean this shop."

"I think it's pretty cool," said Buffy, pulling at brightly colored wigs, "I always liked cute little shops like these."

"I just feel like it came out of nowhere," Tina replied, pulling out a package, "It's so popular already."

"Well, a lot of people need costumes on short notice. Like us," smiled Rachel, "I thought all of the good ones would be sold out. I'm extremely picky."

"Do you know what you're looking for?" asked Tina, hugging her package to her chest.

"I'll know when I see it," Rachel smirked.

"Me too," nodded Buffy, "I guess I'm just browsing for now. What about you? Whatcha got there?"

Tina held out her costume package to show Buffy the picture on the front. "A time honored classic."

Buffy raised her eyebrow to the picture of a blank, shapeless sheet with eye holes, draped over an indistinguishable figure.

"Okay... Can I give you a little friendly advice?" she asked, grinning.

"What? Not spooky enough?" Tina asked docilely.

"It's just, T," Buffy sighed, gripping Tina by her shoulders, "You're never gonna get noticed if you keep hiding. You express yourself so well with your clothes. The layers, the chains, the dark colors... It's you and it's great, but it's missing the whole point of Halloween."

Tina furrowed her brow. "...Free candy?"

Buffy chuckled and rolled her eyes. "It's come-as-you-aren't night. A chance for a girl to be sexy and wild with no repercussions."

Tina shook her head, her eyebrows knitting together. "I don't get wild, Buffy. I just... You know, I'm me."

"And that's great. Really! But... Halloween is about being someone who's not you and showing your other side."

"I don't think I know how."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Buffy urged, looking earnest.

Tina shrugged, and slipped her costume under her arm. Just as Buffy was about to say something else, something caught her eye over Tina's shoulder.

"Oh my God," she breathed, and walked past her friend in a sort of trance.

"Buffy?" called Rachel, and she and Tina followed their friend nearer to the back of the costume shop to whatever had caught her eye. They saw soon that it was another costume, hung up on a headless mannequin.

"Wow," sighed Rachel as the girls looked the costume up and down.

It was a ballgown, fit for a princess, with alternating layers of dark pink lace and velvet, with a tight, silk bodice and a gold bow around the waist.

"It's amazing," said Buffy, unable to keep her eyes off it.

"Please, allow me."

Buffy's attention snapped to the side as a tall, blond man strode up to them with a coy smile. He looked strangely familiar, and Buffy recognised him as Mr. Ryan who'd spent the last week auditing classes at the school and teetering the threat to end glee club over Mr. Schuester's head.

"You own a costume shop?" Tina wondered aloud as Bryan Ryan unzipped the ballgown from its mannequin.

"Guy's gotta have a hobby," he replied cryptically, and turned his attention to Buffy, holding the gown out in front of her and pointing her to the mirror, "Well, meet the hidden princess. I think we found a match, huh?"

Buffy smiled dreamily at her regal reflection, before she sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, there's no way I could ever afford this."

"Oh, I don't think so," Bryan Ryan shrugged, "I feel compelled to make you an offer you can't refuse."

xxx

"Here she comes," Spike said to himself, standing in the abandoned warehouse that he was recently calling home. His hands on his hips, he watched a fuzzy screen display footage of the slayer herself, bounding through the Lima graveyard and staking a vampire.

"Hold on now," he said to a vampire minion standing nearby with a remote limp in his cold hand, "Zoom in there."

He pointed to a darker area on the screen, to another figure that had entered the scene. The slayer stared at the figure for a brief moment before the figure ran away, and as they zoomed in on this stranger, they could see it was a human boy. Dark hair, and holding some sort of notebook...

"Civilian," sighed Spike, waving his hand to deem it unimportant, "I've seen all I need. She is... tricky."

He had to laugh to himself. So far, this slayer could very well prove to be his favorite of all that he's encountered. She certainly was the one he was the most eager to kill. The thought of his hands gripped tight around her neck and the feeling of that small but poignant crack of her bones sent shivers through his skin. It was almost as good as the thought of sinking his teeth into her soft neck. He'd known from experience that the taste of slayers' blood was electrifying. He sighed pleasantly, his thoughts soothing his nerves. He put his hands on his hips, smiling at the thought of fighting her - that terrific moment before her heart stopped beating.

"Baby likes to play," he chuckled to himself, "Resourceful little bird, too. Rewind it again."

He watched the peppy blond perform handstands and cartwheels in an attempt to slay, like a deadly little cheerleader. His attention was lost as he felt another presence enter the room. His cold, dead heart fluttered with warmth at the sight of his love sweeping in in her long, white nightgown, looking like the angel of death. Drusilla's long black hair hung over her shoulders and shaped her long, sallow face. She looked serene as ever, holding a scraggly old china doll.

"Miss Edith needs her tea," she said sleepily.

"Come 'ere, poodle," he said, and Drusilla dropped the doll to the ground with little thought.

She took Spike's outreached hand with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Do you love my insides?" she asked quietly, "The parts you can't see?"

He held her small hand, her fingernails sharpened like miniature knives.

"Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet," he replied.

He relished in her inaudible sigh of relief, and she smiled contentedly. Her eyes moved questioningly to the video playing out on the television.

"I've got to study the slayer," he said in reply to a question she didn't ask, "Get to know her so I can kill her. And once I kill her, you can have your run of this town."

"Don't worry," she said, her voice high like a child's as she dropped the grasp on Spike's hand and moved behind him, "Everything's switching. Outside to inside. It makes her weak."

Spike raised his brow and turned around to face Drusilla, alarmed. "Really? Did my pet have a vision?"

"Do you know what I miss?" she asked absentmindedly, "Leeches."

Spike smirked, amused as he often was by how easily she was sidetracked. "Come on," he coaxed, "Talk to Daddy. This thing that makes the slayer weak. When is it?"

"Tomorrow."

Spike wrinkled his nose. "Tomorrow's Halloween. Nothing happens on Halloween."

"Someone's come to change it all," Drusilla assured, calm and terrifyingly beautiful, "Someone new."

xxx

Tina's face burned red under the thin veil of her crisp white ghost outfit as she sat on the edge of Brittany Pierce's window seat. She was glad for her costume, and even happier that Santana Lopez couldn't see her cherry red cheeks. Tina believed that she had gained a substantial amount of confidence since last year, after becoming friends with Buffy and dating Mike, but she still got frightfully nervous in front of her former classmate. Possibly more so now because Santana had supernatural powers and preternatural strength.

It was Halloween night, and Tina's stomach churned as she sat silently in Brittany's room, watching the rest of them get ready, giggling in front of Brittany's vanity table. She felt miserably inadequate in a room full of pretty, confident girls in their adorable outfits. Brittany applied copious amounts of body glitter to her decolletage, looking chipper in a skin tight cat outfit, with black cat ears poking out of her crimped blond hair.

"I look totally hot," she said satisfactorily, with too much innocence to be blamed for being conceited.

"Yes, you do, boo," Santana smiled playfully, lounging at the edge of Brittany's bed. The vampire was not too creatively dressed as the bride of Dracula, decked in a micro short red gown, with fake blood dripping down her not so fake fangs.

"I love my ears and my tail," she chirped excitedly, "This costume is totally awesome. I ordered it from Amazon, like, three months ago because it was so perfect."

"It looks good, Britt," Santana smiled widely, somewhat proud.

"You look hot, too," Brittany smiled, "Even with your scary wrinkly face."

Tina sat with her hands on her knees and wished she had something to say, but she didn't. She could talk to Mike or Buffy or Rachel or even Artie for hours about the pros and cons of a kindle, or about the South African Ndebele tribe, but what was she supposed to say to a bunch of perfect cheerleaders? All they could talk about was how hot they all were.

She even felt alienated from Rachel, who seemed to have no trouble with nerves as she adjusted her fiery red wig. The girl had lucked out and found a Little Mermaid costume in Bryan Ryan's costume shop, and felt calm and cute in her shell bra and her shiny sequined tale.

"Here, let me brush your wig," Quinn Fabray said softly, and started to smooth out Rachel's bright red hair.

Rachel smiled ecstatically, pleased by the attention, and the person giving it. Quinn herself looked very appropriately angelic in a crisp white gown with a pair of fluffy white strap-on wings, her fair hair glossed and curled and bearing a thin gold halo.

"God, what is taking Summers so long?" Santana asked aloud.

Tina looked up, wondering the exact same thing. The slayer had cooped herself up in Brittany's en suite bathroom for a while now.

Brittany knocked lightly on the bathroom door. "Buffy? Did you get stuck in the toilet?" the other girls chuckled, "What? That happened to Lord Tubbington twice."

"I think I'm ready," Buffy said, muffled from the inside of the bathroom, and pulled the door open slowly to hear the oohs and ahhs of the girls on the other side.

"Buffy, you look beautiful," Tina couldn't help but say out loud.

Buffy's magnificent, pink princess gown looked even more magical on her small frame, with regal brown curls of a brunette wig spiralling around her shoulders.

"Wow," Santana sighed breathlessly.

"Sam is going to love it," Rachel gushed.

"He is," Quinn nodded in reluctant agreement, "You're definitely going to snatch him up at this party."

"I wasn't planning on snatching him up," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Oh, sure," Rachel nodded sarcastically.

"I do not like Sam Evans!" Buffy blushed.

"Uh huh," Brittany winked, because even she wasn't that gullible.

"From what I hear, Sam I Am has the major hots for you," smirked Santana, sprawled on Brittany's bed with her head propped up by her arm.

"Maybe," Buffy shrugged, playing with a curl on her wig, "But I don't want to date anyone."

"But if you were dating, you would be dating Sam," nodded Rachel.

Buffy rolled her eyes and an embarrassed smile slipped on to her face. "We'll see about that."

The girls giggled knowingly until Brittany's phone made a tinkling sound.

"Okay, Brett's outside in his dad's minivan," she announced, picking up her black clutch from the vanity table.

"Let's roll," Santana hopped off the bed and linked her arm into Brittany's.

"Actually, um, my corset came loose," said Buffy, "Tina, can you help me tie it?"

"Uh, sure," Tina said quietly, standing up in her long costume.

"You guys go ahead," Buffy nodded to the others, and they flooded out of Brittany's floral bedroom.

Tina's shoulders slumped, somehow at ease now that it was just her and Buffy in the room.

"I'm very experienced when it comes to corsets," she smiled, "I tie the tightest knots."

"My corset is fine," Buffy said once the others were out of the room.

"So-"

"So, I want to talk to you," Buffy said softly, "You seem really... on edge."

Tina shrugged, still happy that her face was hidden. "This is my first high school party. I'm not exactly popular."

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Tina, if there's any motto I live by, it's fake it til you make it."

"I thought your motto was 'sieze the day 'cause tomorrow you might be dead'?"

"And how smart is that? You should listen to me, Tina. What would you do if this was your last night on earth?"

"Not go to this party."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You have to live once in a while."

"Maybe this just isn't my idea of living," said Tina, muffled from under her ghostly white cloak, "Maybe I get more excited by good books and horror movies than the idea of going to a party hosted by someone who bullied me all through freshman year just to sit with a bunch of drunk teenagers who don't even know my name."

Buffy sighed and looked at the floor. "I just want you to have a good time."

"I know," Tina nodded, her voice low.

"Maybe your classmates don't know your name because you don't talk to any of them..."

"And what am I supposed to say?" Tina rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please. Tina, you're the smartest person I know. If anyone can hold a conversation, it's you. You know, like, everything."

Tina chuckled. "No one knows everything."

"Well, you know a lot. But no one's going to pay any attention to the girl in a curtain. No offense."

Tina shrugged. "Well, what am I supposed to do? This is my costume."

Buffy put her finger to her chin and turned around, opening up Brittany's walk in closet.

"Her Cheerios uniform has to be in here," she said thoughtfully.

"Buffy, no. I am not wearing a cheerleading uniform. It's not me."

"Exactly, Tina! Halloween is the night to not be you. Please, just put it on for tonight."

Tina sighed. "I guess..."

"Great! I'll be waiting in the car," Buffy smiled, taking Brittany's Cheerios uniform off the rack of her closet and handing it to Tina. She rushed out of the room with surprising agility in her heavily layered gown.

Tina shuddered inwardly and hurried to throw her ghost costume off of her and remove the sweater and skirt from underneath, until she was just in her cotton underwear in Brittany Pierce's room. She hurried to pull Brittany's sleek and stretchy uniform on, and she had to admit, for a moment she felt pretty good in it. The flexible fabric seemed to fit just right, and since Brittany was so much taller than her, the skirt wasn't as ultra short as they usually were. She looked in Brittany's floor length closet mirror and smiled at her reflection, until she registered how alien she appeared. People wouldn't recognize her - not that they knew her already. Her cheeks started to flush pink, embarrassed by how ridiculous she looked, and she quickly threw the ghost costume over the uniform and rushed downstairs. Once again, she was glad that no one could see her face, sensing Buffy's disappointment as she climbed into Brett's minivan.

xxx

Kurt led Blaine up the walk of Santana Lopez's impressive house, able to hear the thumping music from the other side of the slightly ajar door, and could peek at a bunch of bustling teenagers inside.

"Your friend lives here?" asked Blaine, and Kurt looked back at the Warbler, his curly dark hair drowned in hair gel and half of his handsome face disguised by a pearl white phantom mask. Kurt thought his friend looked dashing in his dark, silky cloak.

"Santana and I aren't really friends," Kurt shrugged in a tight, gray sweater and a gold and maroon striped Gryffindor tie.

He wanted to be the Tin Man, but couldn't find it at the new costume shop on such short notice, so he had to settle for being a wizard a la J.K. Rowling.

"No?" asked Blaine as they arrived at the door, and pushed through.

"No, I'm more here for Buffy and my friends from glee club," Kurt said, having to yell over the sound of music and chattering teenagers once they stepped inside the house.

"You should introduce me to your friends," Blaine yelled as they edged through people in the foyer.

"Do you want to find somewhere quiet?" Kurt yelled, music throbbing through his ears.

"What?"

"Somewhere quiet!"

"What?"

"SOMEWHERE QUIET!"

"Oh. Yeah."

Kurt weaved through a few people and led Blaine up the Lopez's windy, carpeted staircase to the wide second floor landing.

"Over here," he mumbled, spotting an alcove in the wide hall. They rushed to the alcove, only to find a girl already sitting inside.

"Oh, sorry-… Buffy?"

"Kurt," Buffy smiled, looking very different under a curly, dark wig and extra small in a puffy Victorian gown, "And..."

"This is Blaine," said Kurt, "My friend from the Warblers."

"Oh, right," nodded Buffy, smiling at the boy with half of his face concealed by a mask, "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Blaine said quietly, averting his eyes and acting unusually shy, "Um, Kurt, I'm going to go get a drink."

"Oh, okay," Kurt nodded, and watched Blaine walk down the hall before turning excitedly back to Buffy, "Isn't he cute?"

"I can't tell," giggled Buffy, "Maybe I should see him without his mask."

Kurt shrugged, and took a seat in the tiny alcove. "We should all go for coffee sometime. He's normally more... friendly."

Buffy nodded. "So... Did you see Sam downstairs?"

Kurt smirked coyly and cocked his head to the side. "Why don't you go downstairs and see?" he asked knowingly.

Buffy rolled her eyes, frowning as her face grew hot. "Why does everyone think I'm in love with Sam Evans?"

"No one said love," Kurt raised his hands in surrender, still smirking, "But Buffy, if you weren't just the cutest pair of hot blond teenagers then I would eat my Dior fedora."

Buffy smiled sadly at the floor. "I do like him."

"I know."

"But I don't want to," she shook her head, "I don't want us to turn into more than just friends and have me endanger his safety."

"Sometimes you have to take a chance," Kurt shrugged.

"With someone else's life? I don't think I can," Buffy sighed.

"What, are you just going to stay single forever? Not there's anything wrong with it, Buffy, but you like him. Isn't that enough?"

"What if it's not?"

"What if it is?" Kurt exclaimed.

Buffy chuckled. "You're all sold on love now that you have Blaine."

"I don't have Blaine," Kurt insisted, "But, if it's what he'd like, Blaine has me."

"Well, make a move, boy."

Kurt smirked. "How about I make a move on Blaine as soon as you make a move on Sam. Deal?"

Buffy closed her eyes and sighed, a smiling spreading across her face. "We'll see."

xxx

Santana unlinked her arm from around Brittany's, only to let the blonde pour herself a drink from the punch bowl.

"I'm glad you came," she said to Brittany, smiling idly to herself.

She liked being able to be with Brittany in front of all of these people, the crowds not letting them get up to something stupid.

"Me too. This is an awesome party. It's sad I couldn't go trick or treating, though," Brittany shrugged.

"We have some candy in the cabinet," said Santana, her eyes lingering down to Brittany's hand rested on the kitchen table while she sipped from her plastic cup with the other. She had a miserable urge to reach out and hold her hand, but grabbed a beer from a bowl of ice on the table instead.

"We haven't hung out in a while," Brittany noted.

Santana nodded sadly and looked into the amber liquid. "Yeah. It's tough. Not seeing you, I mean."

"So see me," Brittany shrugged, smiling slightly.

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

Santana sighed, chugging down more of her beer, a wad of anxiety building in her throat. "I'm afraid, Brit."

"Of what?"

Santana looked up at the ceiling and tried to form the words she was feeling. "You know."

"I know. But, it's so sad."

"I know, Britt. I know," she sighed and took another swig of her beer, "It just feels like everyday-"

"Artie!"

Santana blinked as a wheelchair bound boy dressed as Michael Jackson rolled up to them with a wide grin on his face.

"Hey, boo."

Santana stomach churned and she frowned distastefully. She turned away and rushed into the hallway before the couple could give her any attention. She drained the last of her beer as she bounded up the stairs, pushing people out of her way, and threw herself into her bedroom, slamming her back against the door.

"Santana?"

Santana blinked as Finn Hudson jumped off of the edge of her bed looking nervous and holding something in his hand. She narrowed her eyes at the colossal boy.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously, setting her empty beer bottle down on her desk.

Finn shifted nervously, his hand tightening around whatever small thing he was clutching.

"I should go."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Listen, Gigantor, you're getting your anxious sweat on in my bedroom, so just chill and tell me why? Jeez, am I really that intimidating?"

Finn sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders, sitting back down on the edge of her bed. "I guess I'm just nervous."

She looked at the boy in his jeans and McKinley letterman jacket, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

"What are you so stressed for?" she asked accusingly, as if no one else in the world had the right to be upset.

"I... I can't tell you."

"There's really nothing you can say that would make me dislike you any more."

"You can't tell Rachel."

"Why would I talk to your hobbit girlfriend?"

"I guess. It's just... Look, I like her, okay? But she's so..."

"Loud? Annoying?"

"No. Yeah. But no. I was thinking... prudish."

"Right. Virginal Miss High Horse. That's Stubbles for you."

"Don't call her that."

Santana rolled her eyes. "So, what, you're coming up here to escape her?"

"No. Well... I guess so," he said, and opened his hand slightly to peek at whatever he was holding.

"Okay, what are you holding? It's really bugging me," Santana sighed and slumped against her bedroom door.

Finn opened his hand to show off a single condom in his palm.

"Oh, God," Santana groaned, "You were gonna get freaky with some girl who's not Rachel?"

"Is that bad?" he asked sheepishly, "I don't know if I can do it. I don't know how to... I mean, who would I even ask?"

Santana wrinkled her nose. "You've always reeked of virgin," she shook her head, and sighed heavily, "Okay, listen. I've only had a few beers so I'm, like, barely buzzed, but enough to know that I want to have one moment where I don't have to worry about my future of misery."

"...What?"

"And I know, I'm positive, that while I'll be having a little stress relief, it will in no way make me happy, because you're, well, you. And that's a good thing."

"Are you saying you want to... you know... do it?"

Santana grimaced. On a good day, she would turn Finn Hudson's dumbass away and tell him not to be such a pig headed guy. To respect his girlfriend even if she was an irritating dwarf. On a good day, she would tell him how lucky he was to have love in his life and not ruin it by looking for meaningless sex. But today wasn't a good day.

"As long as you don't talk to me or look me in the face or try to kiss me, and do not linger when it's over. I want you out of here as soon as we're done."

Finn looked up at her, mystified, terrified, and a little excited. "I don't know..."

"Come on, Frankenteen. Move it or lose it. And by 'it', I mean your pants."

xxx

The bell rang on top of the wooden door as Terri stepped inside the costume shop, her purse hanging off the crook of her arm. The shop was closed and there was only one person left.

"Terri," he greeted, his hair looking darker than usual as he stood behind the cash register.

"Is it time for me to work my magic?"

"It is."


	36. The Costumes

It had felt like months had passed as Tina curled up in the downstairs bathroom of Santana Lopez's house, sitting on the closed toilet lid with her head between her knees, wishing that she was anywhere but here. Her stomach was in knots just thinking about everything that was going on outside. She didn't mean to be so anti-social or anti-party. In fact, she liked parties, when they were between friends, and not between random, drunken, hormonal strangers. Tina wished that she could be more like Buffy. Beautiful, athletic, bubbly and the object of every guy's affection.

_At least I have Mike, _she thought to herself. She breathed in deep, her eyes closed tight, and thought to herself how glad she is to have Mike. Sometimes, he was the only thing in her life that made her feel special. She sighed again, working up the courage to leave and end the lonely pity party. She lifted her head from her knees and blinked. Something was different. Where once she had a white sheet draped over her body to make her look like a traditional Halloween ghost, the sheet was now gone. All that Tina wore was Brittany Pierce's awkwardly fitted Cheerios uniform.

Tina gasped, surprised to find herself back in the red and white aerobics fabric.

"Where is my costume?" she whispered to herself, barely able to hear her own voice above the booming sound of loud music and merriment that came from the other side of the bathroom door.

Tina's brown eyes trailed along the floor of the bathroom, but her ghost costume wasn't strewn or crumpled anywhere in the room. _Wouldn't I have noticed if it fell of? _Tina wondered to herself, dumbfounded. She stood up in the Cheerios uniform and walked over to the bathroom sink, looking at herself in the mirror. She screwed up her face distastefully at herself in a cheerleading uniform.

"God, I look like..." Tina racked her brain, trying to think of who she reminded herself of, "...Morgan Ru."

She shook her head, confused and displeased, and reached for the bathroom door. To her immense surprise, her hand didn't grip on to anything when she tried to grab the stainless silver door handle. Instead, her fingers seemed to float right through, matterless. She blinked, taken aback, and tried again. She watched, terrified, as her hand passed right through the door handle, like she was a... a ghost.

Tina shuddered with fear. Did someone slip something into her drink? Was she passed out, dreaming an all too realistic dream? No, she knew what was happening. It was the Hellmouth. It always was.

xxx

Kurt blinked in the shadowy corner of the alcove in the upstairs landing on Santana Lopez's house, his head going fuzzy and his vision becoming blurred for just a moment. When he blinked again, he felt a little better. Buffy was still beside him in her dazzling princess gown and Blaine was, for all they knew, still downstairs getting a couple cups of spiked fruit punch.

When he looked over at his blond friend, she was blinking, too, and frowning, as if she was disoriented.

"Buffy, are you alright?" he asked, loosening his gold and maroon Gryffindor tie around his neck.

She looked up at him as if only just noticing his presence, looking bewildered.

"What?"

"Are you okay, Buffy? You look..." he trailed off, not knowing how to put it that she looked positively frightened.

Before they had an opportunity to say anything more, a figure came bounding up the stairs, his face gnarled and twisted and scary like a demon's. Kurt looked on, figuring it was only some guy in a costume, until the demon got closer, his face looking meaner.

"Oh God," Kurt's jaw dropped open, "Buffy, what do we do?"

Buffy stared, slack jawed, and her eyes rolled back as she slumped forward.

"Buffy!" cried Kurt, shocked, and looked up in fear as the demon loomed forward. His heart racing wildly, Kurt gripped on to the plastic wand tucked into the sleeve of his gray cardigan and pulled it out, yelling the first thing that came to his mind.

"Wingardium leviosa!"

Kurt gripped his eyes tight, and when he heard only silence, he opened them again, one by one. His heart stopped as he saw the demon suspended in the air with a confounded expression on his face. Kurt breathed out, in shock. He definitely had not expected that to work. He'd said it on the off chance that something would save the day in the nick of time. At the very least, he would die with the comfort of knowing he was witty, but there it was, a two hundred pound demon suspended in the air because of the force of... wizardry?

"This can not be happening," Kurt sighed, looking down at the wand in his hand. To his surprise, it was no longer plastic, but real cherrywood. He licked his lips in concentration and tried to think of other spells he'd encountered in the movies.

"Um," he said, pointing his wand at the mid-air demon, "Sectumsempra?"

Kurt's breath was taken away as a bloody slash was gouged into the demon arm, and the monster dropped to the floor as Kurt pulled his wand away, his thick, opaque blood oozing out onto the landing carpet.

"Oh my God," he sighed, his stomach churning at the sight of the wounded demon. He turned his head down to see Buffy, still unconscious. "What is going on?"

Before he could get his bearings again, Kurt heard a choking, frightened scream coming from the upstairs bathroom and ran towards it, his wand at the ready with a newfound sense of uncertain power. He shoved the bathroom door open and stared at the figure on the floor.

"...Rachel," Kurt breathed, startled.

He'd received all the texts about her little mermaid outfit, but this was not what he had been expecting. She lay on the ground, a terrified expression stricken on her face, her fire engine red hair sprawled on the tiled floor and her scaly, gray bottom half flopped violently on the floor.

"What's going on? Who are you?" she demanded, frightened, trying to sit up.

"It's me, Kurt," he blinked, "Rachel, something weird is happening!"

"Rachel?" she raised an eyebrow in defiance, "I'm Ariel, the daughter of Triton!"

"...What?"

"Where is my father, and my sisters? Where's Sebastian, and why am I on land?" she demanded, her voice getting more and more shrill, "I can't live on land!"

Kurt opened his mouth, unable to say a word. He took a deep breath and turned to the bath tub, running lukewarm water.

"Get in here," he said, kneeling down to lift Rachel's mermaid body, and settling her into the bath.

"Please, tell me what happened," she pleaded.

"Listen, Ra- Ariel. Something strange is happening, and when I figure out what it is, we're gonna get you back to Atlantis or whatever."

"Did Ursilla do this?" she sighed, as she wriggled in comfort in the rising bath water.

"We'll see," sighed Kurt, stopping the faucet, "Stay here, okay? I'm gonna go see what's going on."

xxx

Leaning off the edge of her bed, Santana pulled over her slinky gown - a part of her vampire costume; not that she needed one. Her stomach churned and her shoulders tensed with the familiar feeling of self-loathing as she heard Finn panting at the other side of the bed as he hitched his heavy jeans up over his legs.

"So that was-"

"Don't say anything," she quickly cut him off.

She didn't want to hear anything out of his mouth. What she had just done made her feel even worse than she did before. All she had been seeking was one moment of careless relief or... satisfaction. All she wanted was to not think about Brittany for one second, but clearly her plan had failed miserably, because Brittany was all she could think about right now, and Santana hated this one sided guilt. Why should she have to feel guilty about her escapades when Brittany was going off, having just as much fun with Cripple Pants McGee? It wasn't fair, and yet this logic didn't help Santana, even a little. She still felt like a worthless nobody who just slept with her best friend's ex-boyfriend. She was, in her mind, pathetic.

"Are you hungry?"  
>"God, Frankenteen, shut your flabby mouth!" Santana snapped angrily, "Can't you see I'm trying to have a reflective moment here?"<p>

She kept her back against him, not even wanting to look at his stupid, mopey face.

"Well, maybe I am, too, okay?"  
>Santana rolled her eyes and snorted, turning around to see Finn Hudson standing there with a vulnerable look on his face.<p>

"I mean, I just lost my virginity," he shrugged, his eyes flitting across the carpet of the bedroom, "To... to someone who's not my girlfriend."

Santana wrinkled her brow in disgust. "And, what, you want my sympathy because you cheated on your girlfriend?"

"No, I just... You were apart of this too, okay?"

"Rachel's not my girlfriend, Finnessa, she's not even my friend. You wanna know why I slept with you? I was bored! And now I'm really regretting the decision because as it turns out, sleeping with you is like getting smothered by a sweaty sack of potatoes."

Finn's mouth opened, speechless and stung. "Whatever," he finally said, his shoulders drooping, "It didn't mean anything to me, either."

"I'm sure it won't matter to your girlfriend," she spat, and laced up her shoes, "Now, just go."

Finn wasted no time in storming out of the bedroom, but as soon as he did, he stopped stock-still in the landing.

"Oh my God," he sighed, "Santana, come here."

Santana rolled her eyes and stormed into the hallway, stopping just as suddenly as Finn had when she saw the figure of demon writhing weakly on the carpeted floor, his twisted face screwed up in pain and thick blood dribbling out of his arm and into a thick, wide puddle on the floor. Santana gasped.

"What happened?" she wondered to herself, when she heard a loud crash and a scuffle coming from downstairs.

Santana and Finn wasted no time rushing down the staircase, and standing in the hall was Kurt, dressed up like a Hogwarts wizard, carrying a limp and unconscious Buffy in his arms, dressed in her heavily layered ball gown.

"Kurt, what's going on?" Finn asked urgently, eyeing Buffy.

"I have no idea," Kurt said, looking stressed, "I think... Well, I think it's our costumes."

"What?" Santana shook her head, confused, before she heard another crash coming from outside.

The three, with Buffy still limp in Kurt's arms, rushed through the house to the backyard, where two of the party patrons seemed to be in a heated fight. Santana rushed to the side of the Lopez's outdoor swimming pool and with little effort, lifted one of the fighting boys by their collar and threw them a few feet away into a rose bush. She turned to the other and took in a sharp breath as she saw the wrinkled brow and the gnarled features of a vampire in full form. She didn't stay idle for long, reaching for a stake that she kept duct taped to the inside of her gown. She brandished her weapon and swung it hard in the direction of the vampire's chest

"No!" someone screamed, and Santana accidentally lodged the stake into the vampire's shoulder.

"Damn," she sighed, and pulled it back out, leaving the vampire to scurry away, wounded and frightened, as Tina approached, "Tina, what the hell?"

"You can't hurt them. They're just... they're classmates."

"What are you talking about?" Santana shook her head, bewildered. She had missed so much and she wasn't sure how to take it. Her party had been practically abandoned, with only a few party-goers wandering around. Not to mention the demon upstairs, and... was Tina Cohen-Chang in a Cheerios uniform?  
>"Well, see, I came as a ghost, and now, I guess, I am a ghost," shrugged Tina, "And other people are becoming their own costumes."<p>

"Tina, that's insane."

"It's the truth," said Tina, and waved her weightless arms through Santana's body as proof, giving Santana a solemn chill.

"Don't do that!" she said quickly and backed away, "Okay... I believe you."

"Where are the others?" asked Tina.

"Kurt has Buffy just inside," said Santana, and the girls walked back through the slide doors at the back of the house.

Kurt had rested Buffy's body on the long island counter, the frills of her ball gown spilling over the sides. Finn stood nearby, nervously biting his lips. Santana's eyes darted over them, wondering worriedly where Brittany was, until an ethereal light started to approach from the hallway.

"What the..." Santana started to say, as the others turned their heads to look at the brightening light. Approaching from the hallway was Quinn, dressed in a long, white gown, her body enveloped in a heavenly glow.

"Oh my God, Quinn..." said Finn, his jaw dropping.

She looked sheepish, even scared, in her celestial body.

"Can someone please explain what's going on?" she asked under the angelic glow of her halo, spinning slowly over her head like a ring of Saturn.

"I can," Tina said softly, blinking Quinn's enthralling glow out of her eyes, "I think. Something happened and... everyone became their Halloween costumes."

"Okay, that's what it seems like," sighed Santana, "But that just doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't, but how else can you explain it?" asked Tina, "I came as a ghost, and now, I'm a ghost. I mean, you've always been a vampire, so that doesn't affect you, but look at Quinn! She's literally an angel."

Santana sighed, and looked over at Kurt in his preppy Gryffindor tie. "So, what, you're Harry Potter now?"

"I don't think so," said Kurt, "I feel like me, like Kurt Hummel. Likes boys, listens to Lady Gaga... not really a British wizard. But, okay, something happened upstairs. With this..."

Out of his pocket, Kurt took out a wizard's wand carved from wood.

"Is that a real wand?" asked Tina, thoroughly impressed.

"I cast a spell, I guess. The ones I remembered from the movies, which isn't a wide variety. I'm more of a Twilight person."

"I'm going to ignore that," said Tina, "What happened to Buffy?"

"She fainted," shrugged Kurt, "A demon came upstairs and I thought she was going to fight it, but she just blacked out."

"Of course," Tina nodded, "She dressed up as a mid-century princess, so now, she is one. She's not a slayer anymore."

"Great. So now we have a world of chaos and no slayer to fix it," Santana shook her head.  
>"We're going to have to figure this one out by ourselves," said Tina, "When do you think she'll wake up?"<p>

"Let me see her," said Quinn, almost floating over to Buffy side and pressing one pale finger on the slayer's temple. A hot glow rose around Buffy's head, and suddenly, her eyes flitted open and she gasped under the stare of the small crowd.

"It's okay, Buffy," said Quinn, her voice surreally soothing.

"Am I dead?" asked Buffy, her eyes locked onto the angel.

"No, Buffy, you're alive. Are you alright?" asked Tina, as Buffy sat up on the island counter, flabbergasted.

"What?" she asked, disoriented.

"Are you hurt?" asked Santana, but Buffy simply blinked at her, frightened.

"Buffy, are you hurt?" Tina asked a second time.

"Buffy?"

"Right," Tina sighed, "She's not Buffy. What year is this?"

"1775, I do believe," Buffy said, very properly, holding her posture impeccably straight, "I don't understand. Who are you?"  
>"We're friends," Tina smiled encouragingly.<p>

"Friends of whom?" asked Buffy, her head darting around the kitchen as she knitted her eyebrows together, "Your clothes... Everything is strange. How did I come to be here?"

"Breath, Buffy, you're going to faint again," said Kurt, and sighed, frustrated, "I'm sorry, Tina, but how are we supposed to get through this without the slayer?"

"What is a slayer?" asked Buffy, "And why do you insist on calling me Buffy?"

"We'll figure something out, okay? We don't have any other choice," said Tina.

"Where's Rachel?" Finn suddenly wondered.

"She's, um, upstairs. In the bath," said Kurt.

"The bath?"

"Yeah, she came as the little mermaid, so..."

"Oh, God," said Finn, and rushed out into the hallway.

"Finn, wait!" Tina called behind him, but he didn't listen, and bounded up the staircase with his long legs and through the landing, into the bathroom.

"Oh my God," he said, his breath taken away as he saw Rachel, laying back in a bathtub of cool water with a scaly fish tale rested limply."

"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes wide and naive and her hair an impossible red.

Finn sighed, his mouth pulled down in a guilty frown as he kneeled beside the bathtub and reached for Rachel's damp hand, holding it tightly.

"I'm sorry," were the only words he could choke out.

xxx

Back downstairs, the others were interrupted by the distant sound of a familiar scream.

"Brittany," Santana said under her breath, and shoved past the others to run through her front hallway, throwing open her front door and scoping Lima Heights for a familiar head of blond hair and cat ears.

"Santana, wait!" someone called after her as she ran out into the street, but Santana didn't listen as she spotted her best friend running in her direction and fleeing from approaching demons.

"Brittany!" Santana yelled, and ran to her friend, lifting her off of her feet and carrying her back to the foyer of the Lopez house, threshold style, and meeting the others who waited anxiously in the hall.

She set Brittany down, and steadied her, her eyes wide open with worry.

"What's going on?" Brittany asked, frightened and disoriented.

Santana put her hands on the sides of the blonde's head. "Listen to me. You're name is Brittany, and you're not a cat. You're a girl. You're in high school, and... I'm your best friend. I love you. You're not a cat, Brittany, you're the girl I love."

Brittany wrinkled her brow. "Santana, what are you talking about?"

"You know me?"

"Of course I do, San. And I know I'm not a cat. I never will be. It's a harsh reality we all inevitably face."

"So... Brittany's not affected by the spell?" Quinn raised a gossamer eyebrow.

"Listen," Tina said, "We don't know what's going on, so Kurt and I are going to go find help. If anything comes into the house, Santana, fight it off, okay?"

Santana nodded stoically.

"It's not our place to fight," Buffy pouted, "Surely some men will protect us."

Santana's lip curled in disgust.

"Come on," Tina said to Kurt, and walked out of the front door.

Santana folded her arms and led the others back into the kitchen.

"Who died and made her the boss?" she muttered to herself, as Finn bounded down the stairs.

"What's going on now?" he asked Santana as the others huddled in the kitchen.

"Lance Bass and Girl Chang went to get help. Tina told us to stay here," she replied, avoiding eye contact, "How's your girlfriend?"

Finn blushed red with guilt at the question. "We should barricade."

"Surely there's somewhere we can go," Buffy said, approaching them with wide Disney eyes, "A safe haven?"  
>"Tina said to stay put," Finn shrugged, helping Santana pick up kitchen chairs to barricade the front door with.<p>

"You would take orders from a woman? Are you feeble in some way?" Buffy sneered.

"Can it, Princess Slayer," Santana rolled her eyes, picking up a chair, "We're not going anywhere. It's chaos out there."

Suddenly, the power went out and the house was succumbed in darkness, and Santana dropped her chair as everyone gasped quietly.

"Okay, listen, I'll barricade the front door. Quinn and Brittany, make sure upstairs is locked up, and Finn... Stay with your girlfriend. She's probably scared," said Santana.

"Where shall I go?" Buffy asked timidly.

Santana groaned. "Stay with me."

xxx

Will sat back on his sofa with a cold beer rested on the coffee table. He'd opened it with a plan to make the best of the night, but he hadn't even taken a sip yet. He wasn't much in the spirit. He had papers to grade and a marathon of zombie movies to watch. The night didn't seem like it was going anywhere exciting, until Tina Cohen-Chang stepped through his wall.

Will gasped and jumped in his seat, his heart racing. "Tina!" he said, wide-eyed.

Tina grinned sheepishly. "Hi," she said, and there was a light knock at the door. She walked over and opened it for Kurt, dressed in a Hogwarts uniform.

"Um, Kurt," Will said, his eyebrows raising in confusion as he stood up to greet the teenagers, "What's going on?"

xxx

Santana hauled a chair out into the hall with a pile of furniture she had ready for barricading, while Princess Buffy stood idly by feeling sorry for herself. She hauled in the coffee table when she noticed the front door cracked open, letting the moonlight stream in.

"That wasn't open before," she said softly to herself, and cautiously inched over to close the door.

As her fingers touched the polished wood, the door burst open and a demon ran in, his wild face full of horns and short tentacles. Santana fought it back, pinning the thick figure on the ground and racking her brain for a weapon that would be in the house.

"Stake!" she called.

"What?" Buffy wrinkled her brow.

"Get me a stake!"

Buffy's eyes scanned through the dark hall, and she pulled open a drawer on the hall armoire and found a sharp, wooden stake. She turned to hand it to Santana, when Santana turned around, her face wrinkled and her sharp fangs were bared. Buffy screamed, terrified, and hobbled out of the front door in her little heels.

"Buffy, no!" Santana called.

xxx

Tina, Kurt and Will sat on his couch, hunched over books on the occult that he'd hauled out from his bedroom to the coffee table.

"I don't even know what we're looking for," Kurt shook his head at the books, frustrated, and loosening his tie.

"And I can't turn the page," Tina sighed, staring at the same passage on how to cure warts and boils.

"Okay, let's go back," said Will, closing his eyes in concentration, "Everybody became their costumes."

"Right," Tina nodded, "Rachel was a mermaid and Buffy was an 18th century girl."

"And you were... a Cheerio?" Will asked.

"No," Tina wrinkled her nose, "I'm a ghost."

Will stared at her micro mini skirt. "The ghost of... cheer?"

Tina rolled her eyes and blushed. "This... This is nothing. You should have seen what Brittany was wearing. It was just a unitard with cat things and... ears and stuff."

"Oh my God. Brittany became an actual cat?"

Tina blinked. "...No. She was the same old Brittany."

"Just in a cat costume," said Kurt.

"She didn't change?" asked Will.

"No," Tina shook her head in thought, "Hold on. Amazon. She got her costume from Amazon."

"And everybody who changed, they got their costumes where?" asked Will.

"We all got ours at a new place," said Kurt, "Bryan's."

Will frowned gravely. "Bryan Ryan's?"

"Yeah, the guy at school, auditing glee club," nodded Tina, "Isn't that weird?"

xxx

The Duchess wandered the streets, flinching at every dangerous sound she heard in this frightening, dystopian future. Goosebumps were raised all over her skin and she trembled, wanting nothing more than to go home to her father's manor and be away from this horrible land. She shivered as she walked down the street. Her legs were tired from running away from that monstrous vixen back at the house, and she decided to walk, keeping on the sidewalks so she wouldn't be stolen away in a dark alley. She heard the many stories of beautiful women being whisked away in the night by evil men who forced their hand in marriage. She didn't want that to happen. She had dreams of marrying someone kind and handsome, who would protect her and bless her with several handsome sons. Just thinking about it cheered her up some during that dreadful night.

As she walked down the rows and rows of squat houses, a figure started to approach, and her stomach knotted anxiously. She shrunk back, intent on running away, but the closer the figure got, the more she could make out what he looked like. Tall, broad shouldered and blonde in a dashing outfit of gold lace and red velvet, with a sword on his belt and a crown on his head. _A crown_, marveled Buffy, _He must be royalty_.

"Fair maiden," the handsome blonde royal exclaimed when he neared her, "Why are you walking alone and unprotected in this monstrous wasteland?"

The Duchess blushed, liking the way this young, royal man spoke.

"I don't know what happened," she said, her voice still shaky, "I want to get back to my family manor, though, and I'm scared of all these demons and I'm afraid I am in some form of Lucifer's Hell."

"Fear not, m'lady," he said, taking out his sword and raising the silver beauty to the sky, "I, Prince Samuel Evans of Pandora, am a valiant knight who has sworn to protect all good creatures who inhabit my kingdom."

The Duchess swooned slightly. "A prince?" she sighed, "And this is your kingdom?"

"Well, no, I don't know what this is or how to get back to my castle," Prince Samuel shrugged and put his sword back into its holster, "But I will fight the forces of evil wherever I go!"

"That's so brave of you," smiled Buffy, "It's unfortunate that I have come to find myself all alone, with no protection."

Prince Samuel smiled. "Never fear, my beautiful maiden. I will protect you with the blade of my sword, and once we find our way out of this land of ghouls, we shall return to my kingdom and you will join me in my palace and I will take your hand in marriage."

The Duchess grinned widely at this pleasant turn of events. "I would like nothing more, my prince," she sighed, batting her eyelashes, and let Prince Samuel embrace her in a breathtaking kiss.

xxx

Will walked through the costume shop, getting the feeling of stomach acid bubbling in his body, like he did whenever he was faced with one of Bryan Ryan's antics.

"Hello?" Will called.

It looked like a regular costume shop, but of course, no such luck. Bryan must have cursed the costumes, or put some hex in order. Whatever he did needed to be stopped. Tina and Kurt walked around behind him, surveying the place. To them it looked just like before, only without the foot traffic. Something caught Tina's eye, though.

"Mr. Schuester," she called to him, walking forward towards a back room, where someone, or something, had rustled the curtains that closed it off.

Will stepped forward and cautiously led the way in, the room eerily quiet. He stepped forward, when suddenly, Bryan Ryan jumped out from behind a pile of discarded costumes, and attempted to attack the tall watcher. Will flipped around and hit Bryan on the side of the head, making a booming sound fill his ears. Will had Bryan pinned against the wall, sneering distastefully.

"I knew you were up to no good when you came to McKinley," Will shook his head, "Kurt, Tina, get out of here now."

"But-"

"Now!"

Kurt and Tina turned back and reluctantly left the shop.

"You didn't have to go and send away my audience," Bryan joked, his head still sore, "You know how much I love the spotlight."

xxx

The Duchess and Prince Samuel navigated through the streets, until the prince heard the noise of approaching footsteps and stood tall, his arm protectively in front of his betrothed.

"Never fear, fair maiden, I am here to protect you," Prince Samuel said bravely as three figures approached.

He blinked, flabbergasted as he registered the three women. One demonic Jezebel, one strange feline creature and one gloriously beautiful angel of the Lord.

"My God," he said to himself, and his true love stifled a scream as they approached.

"That one is dangerous!" she screamed, pointing to the raven haired fiend, "She is a monster!"

They ran towards them, breathless.

"Buffy, thank God," sighed the red-lipped parasite.

"Sam?" the cat woman raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Back, wenches!" he cried, pointing his sword at the three vixens.

"Stop it, we're here to help," said Santana.

"Back I say! Ye are nothing but a trinity of unholy thatchgallows!" he declared.

"Thatchgallows?" Santana raised her eyebrow, amused.

"Sam, please, listen," Quinn sighed, "I... The Lord sent me here, to tell you that... you have to follow us if you want to be safe and get back to your... kingdom."

Sam raised an eyebrow, briefly skeptical, before nodding. "I shall trust an angel of the Lord to guide me and my betrothed."

"Betrothed?" repeated Santana.

"But she... She is a vampire!" exclaimed Buffy, pointing at Santana with a delicate hand.

"It's okay," said Quinn, "Santana is a good vampire."

Buffy nodded at Quinn, convinced, and enthralled by her shining halo. "Really?" she asked.

"Absolutely. She's our friend," said Quinn.

"Behind you!" Sam exclaimed, and the others turned around to see Tina and Kurt running towards them.

"We have to find somewhere safe," Tina demanded between panting.

Santana looked around. "Okay, we're out of the suburbs, so we'll find an open warehouse. There must be a ton of abandoned ones around here. Lima doesn't attract a lot of business. Let's go."

xxx

"What? Aren't you happy to see your old buddy, Billy," Bryan grinned, with Will still pinning him to the wall.

"Don't call me that, Bryan," Will grimaced, "I'm not a kid anymore."

"No, you're not, are you? You're a big bad watcher with a feisty little slayer to take care of, huh?"

"So is that it? You're jealous that the Watcher's Council fired you?"

"Jealous?" Bryan laughed, "Of you? No, no, William, I'm not. I've seen your future."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. An unassuming guy like you always repeats history. Ends up just like his parents."

Will frowned, his memory flickering back to visits to parents in the country. Those visits were never pleasant. His dad was always quietly discontent and his mom never let go of her booze. They were haunted by the past.

"I'm not gonna end up like my parents," said Will.

"You so sure about that, Billy? You never get a little uncertain that you're gonna be just like old Mr. Schuester. Unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Forever."

Will frowned and didn't reply, clenching his jaw.

"Probably not. Now that you have a slayer, you're probably more scared that you'll end up like your old lady. In constant grief about the precious life you weren't able to save-"

Will clenched his fist and punched Bryan square in the face, splitting his lip.

"What happened to my mother's slayer will not happen to Buffy, because... Because I'm not afraid to kill for her."

Bryan split blood out of his mouth and glared at Will. "So it seems. You really are different than you were in high school."

"You bet. Now, you're gonna leave this place and you won't come back."

"Why should I?" Bryan scoffed, "What's in it for me?"

"You get to live."

Bryan rolled his eyes. "Very scary, Billy," he said, before Will punched him again, his full force put into it, a puffy bruise starting to form on Bryan's left eyes.

He kneed him in the stomach and threw him to the wall, gripping his head back to look into his smarmy face. Will's stomach boiled with rage and Bryan could see from the fury in his eyes that he wasn't messing around.

"Billy the Kid is long gone," Bryan groaned.

"End this."

"I can't. The only one who can reverse the spell is the one who cast it."

"Who is it?"

Bryan spat a mouthful of blood before taking a breath. "Terri."

xxx

Santana closed the sliding door to an open warehouse downtown, nothing but the cold clinging to packing crates.

"Find out if there are any other ways in," Santana called to whoever was listening, before she grabbed Sam's arm, "Help me barricade."

She and Sam hauled crates and wooden beams in front of the warehouse entrance, as they began to hear the sound of vampires and demons pounding against the metal door. It didn't seem to be enough as the crates rocked the more the vampires threw themselves against the entrance, and Santana yelled, "Go!" to the others. They all ran out of the way as vampires burst in, and sure enough, they were led by the bleach blonde, leather clad fiend that was Spike.

Santana and the others tried to fight back, but there were too many. Spike must have rounded up every vampire in town for this event.

"Quinn!" Santana shouted, "Set him on fire!"

Quinn tried to bring the flames to her hands, but she couldn't.

"I'm not a witch, Santana," she said glumly, vampires grasping at her either side, "I can't hurt, I can only heal."

Santana rolled her eyes and groaned in frustration, she and all the others held down by vampires and demons as Spike walked toward the trembling Buffy.

"Look at you," he said, looking her up and down with morbid delight, "You're shaking. Terrified. Alone. Lost little lamb."

He struck her hard with the back of his hand, and Sam writhed in his captivity, trying to kick against the vampires holding him.

"You leave her be, fiend!" he yelled.

Tears dripped down Buffy's cheeks as Spike gripped her throat with one hand and caressed her hair with the other.

xxx

"I don't know what you two are doing. I don't know why you're conspiring against me and Buffy or what else you have planned, but you will stop this, now," Will clenched his jaw.

Terri folded her arms and pouted. "Or what, Will? I know you're not gonna kill anyone. You couldn't."

"Watch me," he said in the back room of the costume shop, and gripped Bryan's left hand, slamming it against the wall and breaking it swiftly.

He cried out in pain. "Terri... Just do what he says!"

Terri put her hands on her hips and sighed. "And then what Will? I am not leaving town, you can't make me."

Will breathed through his nose. "You'll... go on with your life. Staying out of my way. Staying away from Buffy."

"I don't know, Will. I'm in hot water with my superior already. Reversing a wish isn't going to be good for me."

Will stepped on Bryan's broken hand, earning him a wail of pain. "Damn it, Terri, just do it!" Bryan cried.

"Fine, fine," she said, and snapped her fingers.

xxx

Spike loomed forward, his fangs bared and about to sink into the slayer's creamy skin. He shivered in anticipation of the rich elixir of her blood, when he heard something. A young voice, saying, "Where are we?" Spike turned around to see most of his crew were once again children, dressed in plastic horns and fake fangs, fleeing away back to their homes.

Spike turned back to the slayer to see that she was slipping off her dark brown wig, her blond hair falling over her eyes.

"Hi, honey. I'm home," she quipped before punching Spike square in the stomach as the children ran off. She sent a flying kick to his face, and knocked him down with a blow to his abdomen before he could pick up a weapon.

"You know what? It's good to be me," she said, before punching him in his jaw.

He rolled over, defeated, and fled before she could do any real damage. Buffy sighed, relieved that the chaos was over, and turned to her friend. Tina, Brittany, Quinn and Kurt just looked relieved, and Santana looked somewhat proud. Buffy's heart sped up when her eyes landed on Sam. He looked disoriented, disheveled and very confused. _Oh boy_, thought Buffy, _This is going to take some explaining_.

The others dispersed out of the warehouse, standing around and basking in the return of normality, as Buffy sidled to Sam.

"I guess the jig is up," she sighed.

He blinked at her, his mouth hanging open. "I don't understand what happened..."

"I don't either quite yet, but stuff like this tends to happen a lot."

She walked Sam out of the warehouse and looked up at the starry sky.

"I don't get it. Were we under a spell?"

"Probably."

"And... are you a superhero?"

Buffy smirked. "For all intents and purposes."

He shook his head. "Did somebody spike my punch?"

"I know this is a lot to take in, but you're not the only one who knows about my secret identity."

"Secret identity?"

"I'm a slayer. I work with things that have a... supernatural element. Like vampires."

"Vampires?" Sam repeated, knitting his brows.

"I know," Buffy shook her head, "You might not believe it, because it sounds like I'm insane, but almost everyone in glee club knows, except Puck, and Piper. Even Morgan Ru knows."

Sam sighed. "How do they all deal with that information?"

Buffy shrugged. "Most of the guys deal with it by knowing as little as possible. Knowing less means there's less to deal with, I guess, so they like to be kept in the dark. Listen, I totally get it if this is way too freaky for you and you don't want to ever see me again," she shook her head sadly.

Sam blinked, raising an eyebrow down at Buffy. "Buffy, what are you talking about? I don't want to avoid you, if anything..." he trailed off.

"What?" Buffy asked, curiously.

"Before, I thought you were perfect. You're beautiful, and funny, and kind... and now I find out that you're a superhero, too?"

"Well, slayer."

"Whatever. If anything, I want to be apart of your life now more than ever."

Buffy blushed. "You're really something, Sam."

"You know, I remember."

"Remember what?"

"Being the costume. Being Prince Samuel of Pandora."

Buffy giggled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I remember... I remember kissing you."

Buffy looked up at his sincere blue eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Without warning, he bent down, closed his eyes and locked his lips on Buffy's, kissing her gently, his soft lips warm. He pulled away, a blithe smile on his face and a dreamy look in his eyes. Buffy was blushing, the pit of her stomach alive with the movement of butterflies.

"And I want to know everything," he said.

"Everything?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, "A lot of messed up stuff happens on the Hellmouth."

"See, like that. You have to tell me what Hellmouth means. And why you decided to be a slayer."

"I wouldn't say decided," Buffy's eyes swivelled to her friends, "Can I get a rain check? Tomorrow, at The Lima Bean. I'll explain everything."

"I'll hold you to it, Princess," Sam smirked, as Buffy skipped over to Tina, her ballgown bouncing jovially.

"Tina!" she called to her friend who was freezing in just a Cheerios uniform.

"Hi, Buffy," she smiled warmly, "Welcome back. I just called Mike. He's gonna pick me up. Apparantly he's been rampaging Lima as a pirate."

Buffy chuckled. "So, just another Tuesday. Listen, Tina, I wanted to say that... I'm proud."

"Proud? Of... me?"

"Yeah. I mean, this whole time I've been trying to get you to come out of your shell by being like the other girls at school, but when you took the lead today it's like you showed off this confidence I've never seen."

Tina smiled shyly, blushing wildly. "I guess I was just thinking... What would Buffy do?"

"Well, you don't need to. You did just fine on your own," said Buffy, before adding, "You'd make a great watcher."


	37. The Old Friend

Will stepped out of the misty rain of an early Monday morning, before he had to make it to work. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled The Lima Bean, and his eyes landed on Terri, right where he knew she'd be, with a latte at her table and a small, square piece of paper in her hands, smiling serenely. He tensed when he saw her, and strode forth, taking an uninvited seat at her table. Terri's blue eyes flitted up to him from the note she was holding.

"Will," she said, surprised.

"We have to talk," he replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

She looked back down at her note and folded it in half, keeping it pressed in her hand.

"About what?"

"You know what. Halloween."

Terri rolled her eyes. "That? Aren't you over that? Bryan's gone and your slayer is fine."

"Yeah, no thanks to you. You almost killed her, Terri."

"And you want me to beg for your forgiveness?" she snorted, "Never gonna happen, Will."

"I want to know why," said Will, "I know that I'm not your favorite person, Terri, but Buffy? What has she ever done to you?"

Terri pursed her lips. "It's not about Buffy, Will. I was just doing what I had to."

"What you had to do? Terri, what does that mean?" he asked, beginning to get impatient, "Where did you get those powers? Terri, answer me."

Terri grinned back at her note and traced a manicured finger over it. "I don't think so."

"What?"

"It's none of your business, Will."

"None of my business? That was _my _slayer you almost killed!"

"The slayer's going to die sooner or later, Will. Really, what's the life expectancy? Twenty? Twenty five? How old was poor Lizzy Martin?"

Will wanted to pound his fist on the table when she brought up that name, but he didn't want to make a scene. "Stay away from Buffy," he said, through gritted teeth.

"Now, now, Will. It's best not to get too attached. They never last long," shrugged Terri.

Will sat back in his chair, knowing that Terri wasn't about to give him the information he wanted. "What is that?" he asked, nodding at the folded note she was twirling in her hands.

She smiled, and gingerly handed it over. Will unfolded it, and read the blotchy writing. _Dear Terri, Thanks for all your trouble. Schuester won this battle, but not the war. This isn't the last you've seen of me. Bryan Ryan. _Will looked back up at Terri, who was blissfully smiling at the note.

"He's kind of a romantic, you know," said Terri, taking the note back and slipping it into the pocket of her jeans.

"You've gotta be kidding me. You _like _him?"

Terri sighed and brought her latte to her lips, staring into the distance. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

xxx

"Wait, so Quinn Fabray is a witch?"

"Sure, but a good witch. I guess. I mean, she hasn't done anything evil since sophomore year," explained Buffy, walking through the sparsely populated halls of McKinley High in her Cheerios uniform and wasting time with Sam Evans.

"She used to be evil?" asked Sam.

"More or less. She set stuff on fire. It was like her thing. She's okay now, I think," shrugged Buffy.

"What about the others?"

"They're just regular teenagers," shrugged Buffy, "Most demons and vampires choose to not go to high school. Like Santana."

"Santana is a demon?"

"Vampire. And don't talk so loud," Buffy hissed.

"But, you kill vampires."

"Sure, but Santana has a soul. Trust me, if she didn't, I'd have some slaying to do."

"Are you going slaying tonight?" Sam asked curiously.

"Yeah, I should, after cheerleading practice."

Sam shook his head and smiled, amused. "You know, I like having a girlfriend with such versatile hobbies."

Buffy stopped in her tracks, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. "Girlfriend?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? I mean... aren't you?"

Buffy sighed and grabbed her backpack handles. "It's not that I don't like you..."

"But?"

"I'm a slayer. The one time I went on a date in the past year, the guy was almost killed."

"Right, okay, but I know all about it now. I can prepare myself. I can be apart of the scooby gang."

Buffy rolled her eyes and grinned. "I should never have told you about the scooby gang. Rachel and Tina risk their lives all the time. So do the others. They're close to death all the time. Too close for comfort."

"So why can't I be? I can help. I'm helpful."

Buffy shook her head. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Fine," Sam sighed, and followed her into the choir room, where Will was hunched over music sheets spread out on top of the grand piano, beads of sweat dripping off of his brow.

"Buffy, good," he said, "I wanted to talk to you about Halloween. Um..."

Will eyed Sam, and glanced back at Buffy, giving her a knowing look.

"Oh, it's okay. You can talk in front of Sam. He knows."

"Sam knows?" Will asked, looking at Sam with surprise, "How?"

"I kind of turned into a Disney prince at Halloween and then watched Buffy beat up a vampire, so..." explained Sam.

"Right," Will nodded, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and wheezing, "Well... Sam, Buffy is the Chosen One, and... she is sworn to secrecy..."

Will stopped and coughed into his balled fist.

"Are you okay, Mr. Schuester?" asked Sam, "You look like you caught the flu."

"I guess I did," Will replied, beads of sweat dripping off of his head.

"Yeah," Buffy backed away a little, looking disgusted, "You should go home."

"We have to talk about Hallo-"

"Will, we can do slayer stuff when you get better," Buffy put her hand over her mouth and nose, "Just take the day off. You're looking green."

"Yeah, I think there's something going around," shrugged Sam.

Buffy nodded in agreement. "Quinn didn't come in today, either."

xxx

Quinn balled her fists nervously and walked into St. Rita's Medical Centre. This was the last place she saw her daughter. The only place. She didn't know why she chose today, of all days. She just knew that she couldn't handle it anymore. Now that she knew what the pangs meant, the ones that told her whenever her child was performing witchcraft, she had to find out where she was. How could a five month old infant use magic?

She stepped in to the receptionist of the hospital's obstetrics ward and sighed, her stomach tumbling. She didn't have any time to do the legal dance and only be told that the hospital's adoption records were confidential. She smiled pleasantly at the receptionist, her name tag reading 'Arlene'.

"Hi, Arlene," Quinn smiled, "You're going to go to your computer and look through your adoption records for a baby named Beth, and you're going to tell me who adopted Beth and where that family lives. When I leave, you're going to forget that I was ever here."

Arlene nodded submissively, her eyes glazing over at the power of Quinn's words, and went to the computer at her side, searching through files that Quinn couldn't see.

"The most recent Beth was four years ago," Arlene said in a drone-like voice.

Quinn shook her head. "I'm looking for a baby born in June of this year... Given away by the birth parents."

Arlene looked through more records, in a trance. "Baby Fabray."

"Yes," Quinn asked, excited.

"Baby Fabray was adopted on June 8th," said Arlene.

Quinn furrowed her brow. That was the day she was born. How could Beth be adopted on her birthday? Didn't adoptions take longer than that?

"By who?" Quinn asked anxiously.

"Shelby Corcoran."

Quinn stopped breathing for a moment. Shelby Corcoran, the Vocal Adrenaline coach? Shelby Corcoran, Rachel Berry's _mother_?

"Wh-Where do they live?" asked Quinn.

"Unlisted."

Quinn blinked. "You let a woman adopt a baby and you don't even know where she lives?"

Arlene stared at her computer screen, the spellbound woman unsure of how to respond.

"Whatever," Quinn sighed, "Don't worry, I'll find her."

xxx

"_She-Mantis_?"

"She-Mantis," Buffy nodded and smiled at her cafeteria tray.

Explaining the world of the supernatural to Sam Evans never got old. He was so impossibly interested and immersed in her world that she couldn't help but feel flattered. Even recounting tales of man-eating insect humanoid creatures made her feel somehow glamorous.

"We shouldn't talk about this stuff in the cafeteria," said Rachel, who sat beside them, looking around at their surroundings, as hordes of other teenagers flooded in for their lunch.

"Turns out She-Mantises only eat virgins," Buffy shrugged, popping a tater tot into her mouth.

"Buffy, shush," Rachel scolded, "Finn's virtue is not up for public discussion."

Buffy rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's probably right."

"Right," Sam nodded, and tucked into his tater tots, "How do you deal with it all, though? Training and hunting and school and everything else."

"Honestly, it's tough. Sometimes I think I'm gonna go crazy from it all, but it always works out. I have my ways of unwinding."

"You mean, like, yoga?" asked Sam.

"More like bad Bollywood movies. Glee club. Oreos dunked in-"

"-apple juice?" interrupted a familiar voice, "Or are you over that phase?"

Buffy, Rachel and Sam looked up at the tall, dark-haired boy standing at the end of their cafeteria table and blinked at his friendly face until she realized who he was.

"Ford?!" said Buffy, excited and disbelieving as she leapt from her seat and pulled the boy into an embrace.

"Buffy Summers, how've you been?" smirked Ford, his dark hair gelled into short spikes.

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" asked Buffy, a wide smile spreading across her face as Sam dropped a tater tot onto his tray and watched them, his full lips pursed into a tight frown.

"Matriculating," said Ford, pulling away from the hug, his hands still clasped with Buffy's.

"Huh?" she asked.

"I'm finishing out my senior year here at Lima," he smiled, as Sam's eyes lingered on their hands, still clasped together, "Dad got transferred."

"This is great!"

"Glad you think so. I didn't think you'd remember me," Ford smirked.

"Remember you? Duh! We only went to school together for seven years. You were my giant fifth grade crush," Buffy smiled ear to ear.

"So I take it that you two know each other," Sam finally intercepted, pushing his cafeteria tray away as Rachel watched with rapt interest.

"Oh," Buffy exclaimed, glancing back at them, "I'm sorry, um, this is Ford. Billy Fordham, these are my friends, Sam and Rachel."

"Hi," Sam faked a grin, inwardly cringing at the word 'friend' as Buffy and Ford took a seat at the table.

"Ford and I went to Hemery together in LA," Buffy explained, "And now you're here. For real?"

"Dad got the transfer," shrugged Ford, "And boom, he just took me out of Hemery and moved me down here."

"So you two were an item in the fifth grade?" asked Rachel, smirking knowingly as she removed the lid from her pot of Greek yogurt.

"Not even," Buffy rolled her eyes, "Ford wouldn't give me the time of day."

"Well, I was a manly sixth grader. I couldn't be bothered with someone that young," said Ford.

"I moped over you for months. It was pathetic. Sitting in my room listening to that Divinyls song, 'I Touch Myself'... Of course, I had no idea what it was about," Buffy blushed, "Hey, are you busy tonight? We're going to the Bronze-"

"I thought you had to train tonight," Sam said quickly, "...For cheerleading. Cheerleading practice."

Buffy shrugged and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "I can skip it. Ford, you have to come with us."

"I'd love to," said Ford, glancing at Sam, "But, if you guys already had plans, would I be imposing?"

"Only in the literal sense," sighed Sam.

"Okay then," Ford shrugged and stood back up, "I have to go to the admissions office. Get my papers in order."

"Well, I'll take you there and I'll see you guys in Spanish," said Buffy, standing up and linking her arm around Ford's, when the static-y intercom sounded.

"Buffy Summers to Mr. Schuester's office," said a female voice.

"Oh," Buffy said, disappointed, "Well, I guess I'll see you later, Ford."

"I'll come with you," Sam stood up, until Buffy waved her hand dismissively.

"It's okay, Sam," she smirked, "I can make it on my own."

Sam sat back down, clearly disappointed, as Buffy and Ford left the cafeteria together. Rachel blinked at the blond boy, her eyes darting between him and the exiting duo.

"Sam," she cleared her throat, "You should note that I don't regularly register the problems of others. My hectic schedule doesn't allow a lot of time for empathy."

"Sure."

"But I kind of get the feeling that you don't like Ford."

Sam sighed, and looked back into his tater tots. "Of course not. I just met the guy."

"Of course, of course," Rachel nodded, "But I've been on the blogosphere, Sam, and I know that you and Buffy are currently an unlabeled item. Everyone knows about your all hallow's eve kiss. Since you're in the romantic realm and still not labelling your relationship, it's understandable that you'd be jealous of anyone who poses a threat to that potential union."

"Okay, does this psychoanalyzing have anything to do with Ms. Pillsbury's new elective?" Sam frowned.

"Couples' Therapy For Beginners?" Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps the class opened my eyes a little to the complexities of relationships, but the wisdom I share isn't anything that wasn't already there."

"Thanks, Rachel, really, but me and Buffy don't need couples' therapy. We're not even really a couple. We're just taking things slow. Seeing what happens."

Rachel nodded. "I completely understand. Taking it slow. Observing the possible outcomes."

"Exactly," Sam nodded in agreement.

"And I can imagine how distressing it must be to know that one possible outcome is that Buffy gets tired of you and begins a relationship with Ford - someone she clearly already knows, trusts and is attracted to."

Sam blinked in confusion. "I'm going to leave now."

"Sam, I know it's a confusing time," said Rachel as Sam lifted his tray and rose from the table, "But every couple needs a little management."

"Right," said Sam, and walked away.

"Sam, wait!" Rachel called after him, "I'm thinking about starting a counseling practice!"

xxx

Buffy felt a little lighter in her tennis shoes as she walked to Mr. Schuester's office. Ford coming back was a pleasant surprise, and his presence felt like a little slice of home. Not that Lima wasn't her home now, but of course LA held a lot of nostalgia for her. Her life before the mess of slayer-dom. When she wasn't the Chosen One. When she was just Buffy.

"Schue, you wanted me-" Buffy said, slipping into Will's office and stopping abruptly when she saw that Will wasn't sitting at his desk, but a woman, tall, blond and dressed in a sleek black sweater and skirt.

"You must be Buffy," she smiled coyly, rising from her seat at Will's desk and extending her hand, "Holly Holliday."

Buffy shook the woman's thin hand. "Um, hi?"

Holly Holliday leaned against the desk and smirked. "I know what you're thinking. Who's the blond, and where's my watcher?"

"Um-"

"Don't worry about it, Buffy Summers," Holly smiled, "I know what I'm doing. You probably know that Mr. Schuester unfortunately has the monkey flu."

"I'm sorry, monkey flu?"

"Mm hm," Holly nodded, "Monkey flu. Pretty rare. Almost unheard of, but hey, it happens, am I right?"

"I guess so," Buffy blinked, "I'm sorry, but who are you again?"

"Good question," Holly nodded approvingly, "Holly Holliday, substitute watcher."

"You're my substitute watcher? How long is Mr. Schuester going to be gone?"

"Who knows, kid? It's the monkey flu. Just hope he ever comes back."

"What?"

"I'm totally kidding," Holly shook her head, "He'll come back in a week, tops. Still, the Watcher's Council can't afford an untrained slayer, even for a little bit. You know they have that whole Master Sue Sylvester thing on file? Freaky, right? Don't want to be ill-prepared for that kind of thing, amiga."

"No, I guess not," Buffy folded her arms, "But, I mean, it's not like I've never gone a week without training."

"Seriously?" Holly raised an eyebrow, "The Dub-C; that's what I call the Watcher's Council; they seemed pretty narc-y about me training you at least every second day."

"Well, from what I know, not a lot of other slayer's went to high school, so you could say I'm a pretty unique case. In between school and cheerleading practice and helping my mom with her gallery, it doesn't leave me a lot of time for training," Buffy shrugged casually.

"When you put it like that, it sounds pretty hectic. Lord knows I couldn't do it," Holly chuckled.

Buffy smiled. "So you won't mind if I don't train tonight? I mean, I'd totally love to more than anything, but I have a new friend in town, and socializing is just as important part of adolescence as, like, school, and health."

Holly blinked, and smiled widely. "Totally. Yeah. Work hard, play harder, right?"

"Exactly," Buffy grinned.

"Play away, hombre," Holly waved, "Is that right? Hombre? I don't know, I'm not a qualified Spanish teacher. The Watcher's Council had to forge a lot of certifications."

xxx

"I'm sorry, but we don't have that on file," shrugged a gray-haired receptionist.

Quinn sighed, irritated, and looked back at her surroundings. Carmel High was a whole lot nicer than McKinley, with its polished floors and wide, clean hallways. No one was throwing slushies at people's faces, so that was nice. For a public school. Still, no one was telling her what she wanted to hear, and all of the bowls of potpourri in the world weren't going to make her feel better.

"And you have no idea where she could have gone?" Quinn asked, leaning against the receptionist's wooden desk as few students milled around behind her through the hall, and a couple of them sitting, waiting to be called into the principal, "She just up and left? Quit her job and skipped town?"

The receptionist nodded. "I'm sorry," she said, looking both bored and irritated.

"Oh, come on. She didn't have any teacher friends who she gave her new address? She's just a big recluse?"

The receptionist sighed and rolled her blue eyes behind her horn-rimmed glasses. "Ms. Corcoran wasn't a social creature. I'm sorry, miss, but there's nothing I can do for you, now I have to take this call," she said, and picked up the phone, swivelling a few feet away in her desk chair to talk privately.

Quinn's shoulders drooped in frustration as she turned around, ready to leave.

"Looking for Shelby Corcoran?" asked a girl with red hair, sitting at a cotton padded chair and flicking through a dated gossip magazine.

"Yes," Quinn said, hope flickering in her heart.

"Well, you won't find her around here," she said, setting down the magazine and looking up at Quinn, "She left Vocal Adrenaline to start a family."

"I heard," Quinn said, perking up, "Do you know where I can find her?"

"No," the girl shook her head, "But I know someone who might be able to."

"Who?" asked Quinn, getting excited.

"Do you know a guy named Jesse St. James?"

xxx

It was one of the few times that Buffy had the opportunity to make it to Lima's only nightclub for teens, The Bronze, but it was maybe one of the best times. Having all of her friends in one place - well, most of her friends - felt good. Even if Rachel was lecturing Mike and Tina on the importance of keeping the excitement alive and Sam was sulking by the bar with a diet coke, Buffy was having a good time.

"Ford, you made it," she smiled happily as she watched Ford play pool at the pool table, with Kurt and Blaine watching intently. Boy, Kurt's Warbler friend looked familiar.

"Buffy, Ford was just telling us about the fourth grade beauty contest. Swimsuit competition?" Kurt waggled his eyebrows as Blaine shyly turned away, sipping his virgin daiquiri.

"Oh my God, Ford, stop that!" Buffy blushed, smiling widely, "The more people you tell, the more people I have to kill."

"Can't touch me, Summers," Ford smirked, "I know all your darkest secrets."

"I'm gonna go get a drink," said Buffy, "Ford, try not to talk."

Buffy moved to the bar, ready for something sugary, and stood close next to Sam.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile, "Having fun?"

"Mm hm," nodded Sam, his eyes flickering back and forth to Ford.

"What'd you do today?" asked Buffy.

"Nothing," said Sam, his attention on Buffy's old friend.

"Nothing at all? You ceased to exist?"

"What? No. I just... avoided Rachel. She kept trying to give me couple advice."

Buffy blushed. "Well, I'll talk to her about it... Look, why don't you come over and hang out with the rest of us? You look lonely over here."

Sam sighed and reluctantly followed Buffy to the pool table.

"Ford, you remember Sam," said Buffy.

"Uh, yeah," Ford nodded, looking Sam up and down.

"Sam, do you want to play pool?" asked Kurt, "I don't, but I'm sure Blaine will. He's just disappeared somewhere..."

"Oh, I don't know," Rachel warned, turning away from an uncomfortable Mike and Tina, "Is it really a good idea to put Sam and Ford in anymore competition?"

Buffy blushed and gave Rachel a disapproving glare. "It's getting a little crowded in here. Ford, do you want to take a walk?"

"Sure," sighed Ford, setting down his pool stick.

"Okay, guys, I'll see you tomorrow," Buffy nodded, and led Ford out of the Bronze.

"Night," Sam said awkwardly as they passed.

Kurt sighed. "Okay. Once more with tension," he smirked as they left.

"He just moved here?" asked Tina.

"Uh huh," Sam nodded bitterly, "He moves fast."

Buffy and Ford strolled down the side of the Bronze together, the cold air and the silence giving Buffy a little bit of room to breath and shake away the tense feeling.

"So, is Sam your boyfriend?" asked Ford.

"No. Uh, yeah. Maybe. Can we lay off the tough questions for a while?"

"Sorry," Ford shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "So, what else do you do for fun around here?"

Buffy looked up as she heard an ominous sound of crashing. "Um, my purse! I left my purse at the Bronze. Could you get it for me?"

"Uh, okay."

"Good. Run. Thanks!" she said hastily, and ran in the direction of the sound as Ford disappeared in the distance.

_Great_, Buffy thought as she turned the corner on a vampire attacking a defenseless girl, _And the worst timing award goes to... _Ford was coming any minute and she didn't have time for some fancy moves, or even a pun. Buffy made haste and kicked some vampire ass, textbook slayer style.

"What's going on?" she heard, and whipped around to face Ford, just seconds after dusting a vamp.

"Um, there was a cat!" she said quickly, worried that Ford may have seen something, "Um, and then there was another cat. Then they fought. The cats. And then they left."

Ford nodded. "Oh. I thought you were slaying a vampire."

Buffy blinked. "Whating a what?"

"I know, Buffy," Ford smirked, "You don't have to lie. I've been trying to figure out the right time to tell you. I know you're the slayer."

xxx

Under the moonlight, Quinn eyed up a tall mausoleum, thankful that she'd stopped at the house to change. There was no way she could have climbed this crypt in a day dress. She hauled herself up, lodging her feet into stony carvings. Like any normal person, Quinn got the creeps from graveyards at night, but something about this garden of death was soothing to Santana.

"What are you doing here, Fabray?" sighed Santana, laying on her back on the surface of the crypt and staring at the blue-ish black sky.

"Am I not welcome?" Quinn sighed, and took an awkward seat on the edge of the flat, stone roof.

Santana turned on her side, resting her head in her hand. "Nope."

"Too bad. I have to talk to you."

Santana rolled her eyes. "You and your problems. I never get a moment's peace."

"I went to the hospital today," said Quinn, looking at her hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was trying to find information about Beth's adoption."

"Oh, Quinn," Santana sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I need to know Santana, and you said you'd support me."

"That was before I knew you were actually going to find the baby. Quinn, this can't end well."

"Then you'll be happy, because I didn't find anything. I could, though. If I wanted to. Jesse St. James can help me."

"Who?"

"He was a student of Shelby Corcoran's, the woman who adopted Beth. Apparently he's the only one who knows where she lives. I got his number today, from a girl who goes to Carmel. All I have to do is make a phone call."

"So why don't you?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen first. I just don't know what."

"Nothing to wait for, Lucy Q. No one's going to tell you whether this is right or not. It's something you're going to have to find out yourself."

Quinn sighed. "Can you just tell me what to do?"

"What am I, the fountain of knowledge? I can't tell you what to do, Q, you're a big girl."

"But you don't think it's a good idea?"

"No," Santana shook her head, "I don't. I mean, what do you think is going to happen? This lady isn't going to give you back your baby. Chances are that she won't even let you visit. She'll slam the door on your face. You need to try and work towards something that you can have. Get yourself a boy toy."

"I don't want a boy toy," Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"Fine," Santana rolled her eyes, "A boyfriend. A big monogamous, abstinent commitment."

"Santana, I don't want a boyfriend. I want my baby."

"Not your baby, Quinn. I'm sorry, but it's not."

Quinn sighed, and looked out at the sea of gravestones. "So, what? A boy is supposed to fix all of my problems?"

"No, but they help, don't they?"

"Not usually," smirked Quinn.

"Well, maybe not the jerks you've been dating."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her friend. "Finn and Puck weren't jerks. I mean, Puck had questionable morals, but his intentions are usually good. And Finn is a good guy. Always has been."

"Oh yeah? Even when he kissed Berry behind your back?"

"It was one time," Quinn grimaced, "Twice, maybe."

"Once a jerk, always a jerk."

"That's not fair."

"And what is?"

Quinn breathed in the night air. "I'm going to think about calling Jesse some more. I'll sleep on it, okay?"

Santana rolled over onto her back again and stared at the endless sky. "Okay."

xxx

"Just like that? He told you?" asked Tina, laying on her bed that night with her cell phone held up to her head, with Buffy on the other line.

"Just like that," said Buffy, "He said he found out after I got booted from Hemery."

"Wow. It's cool. Is it cool?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. I don't have to constantly worry that he's going to find out my dark secret. It just makes everything easier."

"I guess that's how you feel about Sam knowing, too. Right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, totally."

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on between you and Sam?"

"Nothing. We're friends. What are you talking about?"

"I saw you guys kissing on Halloween. I'm sure everyone knows about it. Now that he knows, you two are free to be a couple. So why aren't you?"

Buffy sighed wearily on the other end. "It's complicated, Tina. You know that. With great power comes great responsibility blah blah blah."

"Well, if that's how you really feel. If you want, I could do the Rachel schtick and tell you exactly what I think about you and Sam."

"Please don't."

"Didn't think so," Tina smirked, "Just be careful, okay? Sam really likes you."

"I know," sighed Buffy, "Talk to you tomorrow?"

"See you," said Tina, and hung up the phone as she heard a knock on her window.

Tina looked up and squinted at the window, surprised to see that Sam had climbed onto her miniature balcony. Tina rushed to open the balcony doors and let him in.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" she asked.

Sam sighed and settled into his surroundings, the dark Victorian theme of Tina's room feeling a little foreign.

"I don't mean to intrude. I hope this isn't innapropriate."

"No, it's fine," she shrugged, "My parents aren't very strict."

"Okay, cool," Sam nodded, "I wanted to talk to you. I need help."

"Homework help?" asked Tina.

"No. Computer help. I need you to track someone down."

"Oh, great," nodded Tina, taking a seat at her dark cherry wood computer desk, "What are you looking for?"

"Records, affiliates... I'm not really sure what I'm looking for yet," said Sam, leaning over Tina's shoulder as she opened her laptop.

"What's the name?" she asked.

"Billy Fordham."

Tina cringed, and turned back to Sam in her seat. "Sam, can I say something you may not want to hear?"

"You're gonna tell me that I'm jealous," Sam nodded.

"It kind of looks that way," Tina said, as she idly typed into her computer.

"I never used to be," Sam shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, "I guess I never worried about what girls thought of me. Then she comes along. So yeah, I guess I'm jealous, but I'm also good at reading people. Something tells me that this guy is up to no good."

"Okay," shrugged Tina, researching on the laptop, "But if there isn't anything weird- Wait, that's weird."

"What?"

"I just checked the school records, and he's not in them. Usually they transfer your grades and information, but he's not even registered."

"What's up with that?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Tina said, glancing at the time, "Look, it's getting late. I'll keep researching, and if I find anything, I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Okay, fine. Just don't tell Buffy about this."

"You want me to lie to her?" Tina raised an anxious eyebrow.

"Just don't bring it up until we know what's going on."

"Okay," Tina agreed, "It's probably nothing."


	38. The Lonely Ones

"So Sam knows? And Kurt? And Tina, and her boyfriend Mike?"

Buffy nodded reluctantly and took a sip of her milkshake. It was a rare warm, sunny day in Lima, Ohio, and she wanted to enjoy the weather in the courtyard with Billy Fordham, _not _talking about her not-so-secret identity.

"Even that Rachel girl? Really?" Ford raised an eyebrow, "I mean, no offense, but she seems like she talks a lot, so can she really keep a secret that big?"

Buffy nodded, and looked out at the other students, leaving school at the end of the day to enjoy the sun. "Of course she can. Rachel's an invaluable member of the scooby gang."

"Scooby gang?" Ford smirked, "Who came up with that?"

"I don't remember. Artie, I think."

"Who's Artie? Another person who knows?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and blushed. "Okay, yes, I win the gold medal in the Worst Secret Keeping Slayer awards. Still, you have to keep quiet about this stuff."

"Hey, Killer," Holly Holliday strolled by in a loose, white blouse, "Enjoying the weather?"

"Uh, yeah," Buffy squinted up at her substitute watcher, "Ford, this is Ms. Holliday. Ms. Holliday, this is my friend Ford."

"Call me Holly," she winked, "So, Buffy, I was thinking training tonight, for... chess club? You know. Strengthen your queen. Kick some ass with your knight. Pawns and 2B and all that jazz."

Buffy smirked. "Ford knows, Holly."

"Thank God," Holly pretended to wipe her brow in relief, "Hold up, though. Isn't the Dub-C super strict about the secret identity?"

"Well, sure, but some people are going to find out eventually, right?" Buffy shrugged.

"Sure," Holly shrugged, "Unless you're just telling your story all over town to impress cute boys, huh? The pretty-lipped blonde? The skinny Asian?"

Buffy chuckled nervously. "Uh, no. Don't worry. I didn't tell Ford. He knew."

"Aint' no thang," Holly shrugged, "So, training tonight?"

"Ugh, I totally would," Buffy frowned, "But, see, Ford just moved here and I wanted to show him all over Lima-"

"Say no more," Holly waved her hand, "I'll be out your hair, Buffcake. Enjoy!"

"I could really get used to her," Buffy shook her head as Holly Holliday strutted away.

She and Ford strolled through all of Lima's hotspots and circled back to the school's campus once again as the sun went down.

"I think you've seen pretty much everything of interest in Lima," Buffy shrugged at his side and pulled her sweater tighter around her as the looming night brought a cold wind.

"Well, Lima's really..."

"Feel free to say dull."

"Okay. Dull's good," Ford said as two dark figures caught their eyes, a man and a flaxen-haired woman, rushing into McKinley High, "Or maybe not so dull. Are those vampires?"

"Must be the weather," Buffy groaned, and took out a stake and a wooden cross from the inside of her thick sweater, handing Ford the polished cross.

He gingerly took a stake out of his back pocket and gave Buffy a proud, toothy grin.

"Stay close to me," she said, reluctant to have her friend subject to this kind of danger. _It was only a matter of time, _she thought to herself, _They all have to face it at some point. _

The two of them rushed up to the entrance of McKinley, keeping their breath quiet and steady, listening intently for an ominous noise that would lead them to the vampires.

"Maybe they were just passing through," said Ford, when they couldn't hear a thing.

"I don't think so," Buffy said, and gasped just as the blond vampire jumped out at her, attacking from behind with her twisted fangs bared.

Buffy threw her off with little trouble, until the male vampire approached, knocking Buffy down the patch of grass that lay below McKinley's entrance. With Buffy distracted at a distance, Ford gathered his strength and pounced the blond vampire, holding his sharpened stake to her chest.

"You've got one chance to live," he said to her in a hushed tone, "Tell me what I want to know and I'll let you go."

By the time Buffy bested the male vampire and turned back, rushing to Ford's side, the blond vampire was gone.

"Where's the other one?" she asked breathlessly as Ford kneeled on the ground, stake in hand.

"Killed her," Ford said, coughing into the crook of his elbow, "I just killed her and she turned to dust. It was... amazing.

xxx

"This was the only address I could find. The Sunset Club," said Tina, looking down at the address she had scrawled on a scrap of paper.

She shivered in the passenger's seat of Mike's father's Honda as Mike pulled up to a row of abandoned warehouses in Lima's ghostly old industrial area. Evil always seemed to cumulate here. In the backseat, Sam eagerly pressed his nose against the window, until the car stopped, and he hopped out.

"I still didn't find anything incriminating," said Tina, as she and Mike left the car and tried to keep up with Sam's brisk pace.

"He left no paper trail. No records. That's incriminating enough," shrugged Sam.

"Yeah, I have a feeling that Trouty Mouth is right," said Mike as they approached the warehouse entrance.

"Could you not call me that?" asked Sam as he knocked on the door, hearing muffled movement from inside. A slot on the door slid open and a shifty set of eyes appeared, looking them up and down.

"We're friends of Ford's," Tina said on the spot, and the door was quickly opened for them.

They entered, without a word, and speechlessly observed the spectacle inside. The abandoned warehouse was decorated with ghostly white tablecloths and flickering wall candles, and a crowd of teenagers filled the space, milling around and chatting, all the while looking broody and tormented, dressed in Victorian garb and gothic accessories that reminded Tina a lot of herself. Mike and Sam looked uncomfortable as they stepped into the crowd of young adults, the room full of the sound of 90s rock bands. The three of them gaped at the strange hangout, coffins balanced up against the walls and old TV screens in a couple of corners, silently playing a black and white horror film.

"Great outfit!" said a girl, and Tina, Mike and Sam whipped around to see her.

There were four girls about their age, all dressed in dark clothes adorned with chains and metal studs. Tina looked down at her black frilly lolita jacket.

"Me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She'd never received a compliment on her clothes before, unless it came from her parents.

"Yeah," nodded the girl who'd spoken before, a fresh-faced skinny blonde who looked like a shapeless twig in a black leather jumpsuit, her lips the color of frosted sugar plums. Out of the four girls who loomed over them, the blond was the only one who was smiling. "Your friends look like newbies, though. I can tell."

"Uh, no. We come here all the time," Sam put his hands on his hips unconvincingly.

"Don't be ashamed. It's cool that you're open to it," said the blond, and looked back at her three cohorts, "We're The Skanks."

"The Skanks?" Mike raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Sheila," frowned one of the girls, her dark brown eyes heavy with eyeliner.

"Ronnie," nodded a tall, heavy girl with a leather driver's cap on her head.

"They call me The Mack," said a short, pretty, brown-haired girl.

"Don't you go to our school?" asked Tina, recognising the snooty pout.

"From time to time," shrugged The Mack.

"You're welcome to stay," said the blond, "My name is Chanterelle, and we welcome anyone who wants to join The Lonely Ones."

Tina's shoulders slumped when she realized what was going on.

"The Lonely Ones?" questioned Sam.

"Vampires," replied Tina.

"Oh..." said Mike, "We usually call them the Evil, Pointy, Bitey Ones."

"So many people have that misconception," Chanterelle shook her head, "But those who walk with the night don't wish to harm us. They are creatures above us. Exalted."

"That's stupid," Tina couldn't help but say under her breath.

She had a morbid fascination with the occult, yes, but that does not mean she was about to idealize undead beings of evil. They had already killed a number of her classmates.

"You don't have to be so confrontational about it," Chanterelle said softly.

"Unless you want me to bust your ass," sneered Sheila.

"It's okay, Sheila," Chanterelle waved her hand and turned her attention to Tina, "Other viewpoints than yours may be valid, you know."

The Skanks stalked off, throwing them nasty glares.

"Tina, what are you doing?" Sam hissed, "Now no-one's going to talk to us."

"I've seen enough," Tina shook her head, "I used to hang out with these kind of people in middle school. They're all just posers. They don't know anything about vampires. What they are. How they live. How they dress."

Mike sighed as he led them back towards the entrance. "Why would Ford be hanging out with a bunch of vampire wannabes?"

"Something's definitely strange about him," said Tina, "You're right about that."

xxx

"Ms. Holliday?" Buffy knocked lightly on Mr. Schuester's office door, after hours.

Thankfully, Holly Holliday was still there, holding her iPhone intently in front of her.

"Buffy!" Holly exclaimed, setting the phone down, "What's up?"

"I hope I'm not bothering you," said Buffy, stepping inside and closing the door behind her, "I need your help."

"I thought you'd never ask," Holly smiled smugly, "What's the problem?"

"I don't really know if it's a problem yet. It just seemed kind of weird," said Buffy, and recounted to Holly Holliday about her run-in with vampires on campus.

"I guess that is pretty weird," said Holly, sitting back in her chair and pressing a fingernail against her chin.

Buffy leaned against the sharp edge of Will's desk. "They normally stick to the graveyards, or back alleys. If they were on the high school campus, it means that they were here with a purpose," said Buffy, absentmindedly rummaging through files and photographs that were in a mess on Mr. Schue's desk.

"Mm hm," agreed Holly, "That means we have to find out what that purpose is. Where's your friend?"

"I sent him home," said Buffy, a large square photograph catching her eyes, "Who's this?"

Buffy was struck by the image of a gaunt and yet hauntingly beautiful woman, her raven hair flowing down and shaping her narrow, pallid face, and a thick white gown draped over her frail body.

"Beats me," shrugged Holly Holliday, "I meant to go through all that junk, but I got distracted by Angry Birds. Nerd alert, right?"

"Right," Buffy nodded, distracted, turning the photo around to see that it'd been scrawled on in pencil, saying '_Drusilla - Sired 19th century_', "She's a vampire that Mr. Schuester was studying. Why would he be studying one old vampire?"

"I don't know," Holly shrugged, and rose from her seat, "But we can find out. What is a watcher if not watchful? I'll check the books."

Holly moved from behind her desk and skipped to the door in her black heels, sticking her head out to check that no one else was around, when suddenly a blond vampire, the same from before, loomed forward out of the shadows and shoved Holly hard, right into Buffy and knocking down the two women like dominoes, snatching a book from one of Mr. Schuester's shelves. With a book tucked under her arm, the vampire sprinted away, out of sight. Holly sat up, winded, and stretched out her hand to Buffy.

"Are you okay?" Holly asked breathlessly, "She took a book. At least that means someone in school is reading."

Buffy simply blinked in the direction the vampire escaped. "He said he killed it..." she muttered to herself, "That's the vampire Ford said he killed."

xxx

Under the dim light of a cold, abandoned warehouse basement, the only thing that shone was the gold gilded bird cage.

"You sing the sweetest little song," sang Drusilla, looming over the bird cage with wide, blood red eyes, a white nightgown hanging off of her skeletal body, "Will you sing for me, hm? Don't you love me anymore?"

Drusilla blinked at her unmoving pet as she felt someone approach behind her.

"Darling," said Spike, "I heard a funny thing just now. Lucius tells me that you went out on a hunt the other night."

"My tummy was growly," said Drusilla, looking sheepishly down at the ground like a young girl, "And you were out."

Spike bristled as Drusilla whistled to her stiff bird. "Did you, um, meet anyone? Anyone interesting. Like... him?"

"Angel?"

"Yeah," Spike sighed and gave Drusilla a peck on the forehead, "So, what might you guys have talked about, then? Old times? Childhood pranks? It's a little off, you two being so friendly. You know I don't like it. I don't like him being here, in this town. This was supposed to be our town, not his."

"I'll give you seeds if you sing," Drusilla cooed to the bird.

"The bird's dead, Dru," Spike grimaced, "You didn't feed it and now it's dead, just like the last one."

Drusilla cowered away, pouting and whining to herself.

Spike sighed to himself. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm a bad, rude man. I just don't like you going out, that's all. You are weak. Would you like a new bird? One that's not dead?"

Spike linked his fingers through Drusilla's, winning a bewitching smile from her, when someone else entered the scene and ruined their moment.

"This is awesome," a young human boy said, making Spike grimace, "I would totally live here."

Spike snapped to the entrance, where a teenage boy stood, no older than the slayer, with dark hair and a naive grin.

"Do I have anyone on watch here?" Spike complained aloud, "Call security, people. Are you all asleep? Or did we finally find a restaurant that delivers?"

"I know who you are," said the boy, his breath shaky as he stepped forward.

"Yeah, I know who I am, too. So what?"

"I came looking for you. Spike."

"Well, you've got a real death wish," said Spike, when in the corner of his eye, one of his minions - the blond - darted forward, holding out the book he desired. He took the old parchment in his hand, impressed. "This is great. So, how did you find me?"

"It doesn't matter," said the boy, "I've got something to offer you... I'm pretty sure this is the part where you take out a watch and say I've got thirty seconds to convince you not to kill me. It's traditional."

Spike closed the book and stepped forward quickly. "I don't go much for tradition," he walked over and grabbed the boy by the ear, until Drusilla approached him and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, love," she said.

Spike let go reluctantly. "Well?"

"Oh, come on," said the boy, rubbing his sore ear, "Say it. It's no fun if you don't say it."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You've got thirty seconds to convince me not to kill you."

"Yes! See, this is the best. I want to be like you. A vampire."

"I've known you for two minutes and I can't stand you. I don't really feature you living forever. Can I eat him now, love?"

Drusilla shook her head.

"Well, feature this. I'm offering you a trade. You make me a vampire, and I'll give you the slayer."

xxx

"Buffy? Can I come in?"

Buffy looked up from her cold tea on her kitchen island counter to see Sam hovering at her ajar back door. She perked up a little at the sight of his warm if tentative grin.

"Sure," she tried on a weary smile.

"We need to talk," said Sam, "It's about your friend Ford. He's not what he seems."

Buffy sighed and dumped her tea into the sink as Sam came forward and leaned against the counter.

"Why can't you just get along? Why don't you like him?"

"It's not about that," Sam frowned, "Tina put his name through her computer-"

"Tina?" Buffy raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"She found this address, we checked it out with Mike-"

"And Mike?" Buffy spluttered, "Wow. Everybody's in. It's like a great, big, exciting conspiracy."

"What are you talking about?" Sam furrowed his brow.

"I'm talking about the people I trust!" snapped Buffy, "Ford is my friend, but everybody else decides to do recon behind my back?"

"Buffy, I did this for you. I didn't trust him," Sam shook his head, "And I was right not to. He's apart of some weirdo secret society. Tina says they're vampire worshipers."

Buffy breathed in deeply. "Does that mean...?"

"That he's evil?" Sam frowned, sympathetically, "I don't know. I just know that you can't trust him."

Buffy leaned hard against the counter, staring out of her kitchen window. Sam rested his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

"Don't," she shook her head, "You guys went behind my back. Just please... leave."

With his shoulders drooping, Sam left her alone.

xxx

Quinn shut the sliding door behind her, still in her pyjamas in the bright, chilly, early morning as she stepped outside, cellphone in hand. A tarp covered the Lopez's lagoon-shaped pool and dew slowly dripped off of the herbs that Sofia had planted earlier in the year. The Lopez's back yard - Quinn's back yard - always had a calming effect on her, especially in the morning. She felt like she could breath, which was why she chose to escape out here to make her phone call. Her hands shook as she tapped the number into her phone and she felt her throat closing up as she held it to her ear and heard it ring. The ringing stopped, and it felt like an hour before she heard a, "Hello?"

"Hello," she said automatically, every planned and rehearsed word leaving her mouth.

"...Who's calling?"

"Oh," Quinn choked out, "This is Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

A silence fell over the other end. "Lucy," he finally replied.

"Jesse," she said, her wavering voice holding some sort of tone of familiarity.

"It's been a long time."

Quinn pursed her lips in a frown. "Yeah. How are you?" she asked lamely.

She hated the way she sounded; so shy and weak. She'd known Jesse St. James for too long to feel so inferior to him. She'd known him before he was ever Rachel Berry's boyfriend. When he was just a kid.

"Now Lucy, I know you didn't call just to ask how I am," she could almost feel Jesse grinning, "Why, after all these years, have you finally decided to start talking to little old me again? Have your powers been waning?"

Quinn sighed. "No," she said, goosebumps rising on her arms, "It's not about magic."

"Then what?" Jesse said impatiently.

Quinn hesitated before replying, "I think we should meet in person. I... need to ask you some things and I need to know that you're telling the truth."

"I'm in Los Angeles, Lucy. What could be so important?"

Quinn sighed. "It's about my daughter. I know that you know something that could help me find her."

"Lucy," Jesse chuckled, "Why would I know anything about your bastard child?"

Quinn flinched at his words. He always had a way of being so casually cruel.

"I know you're involved, Jesse, and that can't be good," Quinn shook her head to herself, "Come to Lima this weekend."

"Why should I? What's in it for me?"

Quinn bit her lip. "What do you want?"

There was a long silence on the other end before Jesse replied. "I'll think about it on the way."

xxx

Even the good weather didn't make Buffy feel much better as she sat on the steps of the school courtyard during lunch, her head in her hands, feeling a little forlorn. She'd always felt a little isolated from other people, but right now felt like a low. Rachel was too busy with her new couples' counselling sessions to be there for a rant sesh, and the rest of Buffy's friends were doing investigations behind her back. Well, the ones who weren't involved in demon worship.

"Buffy," Ford called, squinting against the sun as he approached, "I had a great time last night. Well, an interesting time."

"I'm glad," said Buffy, rising from the low steps.

"Do you want to go out again tonight?"

"Not busy," Buffy shrugged.

"I sort of had an idea, but it's a secret. I kind of want to surprise you."

"I like surprises."

"Can you meet me here?"

"Sure."

"At nine?"

"At nine."

Ford smiled and leaned in close. "It's gonna be fun," he said, and walked away, leaving a chill to creep over Buffy's skin.

"Buffy?"

Buffy whirled around to see Tina rushing over to her in a gray petticoat, with Mike trailing along behind her, looking guilty.

"Yeah?" asked Buffy, her voice low.

"Did Sam-?"

"He told me everything."

Tina sighed, ashamed. "I'm sorry. When Sam came to my room, he was just so concerned for you."

Mike leaned forward. "I told them to tell you," he said.

Buffy cracked a small smile. "Thanks."

"Did you find out what Ford is up to?" asked Mike.

Buffy frowned tightly. "I will," she said determinedly, and strode away.

"I feel so bad for her," Tina turned to Mike and said softly.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "So, Sam was in your bedroom?"

"Ours is a forbidden love," Tina nodded, and watched Buffy as she walked out of sight.

xxx

Ford's feet clanged against the metal steps down to the Sunset Club, where only a select few of the patrons still roamed. The Skanks waited for him at the bottom of the staircase, sleepy smiles on their faces as he approached.

"Chanterelle, is everything ready?" he asked, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto a dusty coffee table.

"Of course," she smiled, "Is it time? Tonight?"

"Are you nervous?" Ford grinned.

"Yes. No. I'm ready for the change. Do you really think they'll bless us?"

Ford moved to a long, narrow table and poured himself a goblet of wine. "I know they will," he smirked.

"What about your friends?" asked Ronnie, "Are they coming?"

"What are you talking about?" Ford blinked.

"Your friends. They came last night. Two guys and a girl," said Ronnie.

"One was mean," pouted Chanterelle.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Ford snapped at The Skanks.

"It's going to be alright, isn't it? They're not gonna let us down?" asked Chanterelle.

Ford sighed and gripped his temple. "It's gonna be fine."

"I need them to bless me."

"It's gonna be fine!"

"No, it's really not," said Buffy.

Ford and The Skanks looked up to the entrance, where Buffy leaned over the balcony, a bitter frown on her face.

"It kind of draughty in here," Ford muttered to The Skanks, and Sheila hurried off to secure the exits.

"I'm sorry, Ford," sighed Buffy as she made her way down the metal staircase, "I just couldn't wait til tonight. I'm rash and impulsive. It's a flaw."

"We all have flaws," Ford frowned as he walked forward, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'm still a little fuzzy on what yours is. I think it has to do with being a lying scumbag."

Ford smirked. "Everybody lies."

Buffy shook her head. "What do you want, Ford? What's this all about?"

"I don't think you'd understand."

"I don't need to understand. I just need to know."

"I'm gonna be one of them," he said blithely.

Buffy furrowed her brow. "You want to be a vampire?"

"I'm going to."

"Vampires are a little picky about who they change ov-... You were gonna offer them a trade," Buffy frowned, the truth sinking in.

"I don't think I want to talk anymore," Ford frowned, clenching his jaw.

Buffy lunged forward, gripping Ford by his neck and pinning him against the wall as the others watched in fear.

"Yeah, well I'm still feeling a little chatty. You were gonna give them me! Tonight!"

"Yes," Ford choked out from under her grip.

"You didn't know I'd figure it out."

"Actually," said Ford, "I was counting on it."

Buffy let go of his quickly as he snickered at her. "What's supposed to happen tonight?" she asked.

"This is so cool," Ford laughed, "Just like it played in my head. The part where you ask me what's supposed to happen. It's already happening."

As soon as Buffy heard the booming, ominous sound of the door being shut, she rushed up the stairs and through herself against the exit, to no avail.

"Once it's closed, it can only be opened from the outside," Ford smiled, still at the bottom floor of the club, "As soon as the sun sets, they'll be coming."

"Ford, if these people are still around when they get here-" began Buffy.

"We'll be changed," said The Mack, "All of us."

"We're going to ascend to a new level of consciousness," Chanterelle chirped excitedly, "Become like them. Like the Lonely Ones."

"This is the end, Buffy," said Ford, "No one gets out of here alive."

Buffy rushed down the staircase, determined. "There's gotta be another way out of here."

Ford smirked as she searched frantically. "I knew I wasn't going to able to overpower you, but this is three feet of solid concrete."

"At least let the other people go," Buffy pleaded.

"Why are you fighting this?" frowned Chanterelle, "It's what we want."

"It's our chance for immortality," smirked Ronnie.

"This is a beautiful day. Can't you see that?" Chanterelle shook her head.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "What I see is that right after the sun goes down, Spike and all his friends are gonna be pigging out at the all you can eat moron bar."

"Okay, I think we should gag her," frowned Sheila.

"I think you should try."

"She's a non-believer," said The Mack, "She taints us."

"I am trying to save you! You are playing in some serious traffic here. Do you understand that? You're going to _die_, and the only hope you have is getting out of this pit right now, and my God, could you have dumber outfit?"

A ringing sounded from Ford's pocket, and he took out his phone and silenced it. "Six twenty-seven," he said to himself, "Sunset."


	39. The Stranger

An ominous chill crept up Buffy's spine. Every creature of the night was out to get her, but she thought that her friends were the one thing that she could count on. Yet here she was, betrayed, and flustered as she tried to make some sort of plan. An escape. After all, the setting of the sun outside of this warehouse she was trapped in meant that Spike and his vampire minions would arrive in no time, and they'd bring their appetites with them. Buffy rushed up the metal staircase of the warehouse and threw herself against the locked entrance, to no avail.

"You just don't give up, do you?" smirked Ford, as he slowly followed her.

"No, I don't," Buffy said bitterly. Her outrage with her old friend would have to wait. For now, she had to concentrate on saving these innocent idiots.

"That's a good quality in a person. Too many people just lay back and take it, but us-"

"Us?" Buffy exclaimed, spinning around and narrowing her eyes at Ford, "We have something in common now?"

"More than you think."

"Yeah, well, let me explain something to you. You're what we call the bad guy."

Ford smirked, almost proudly. "I guess I am."

Buffy looked down past the railings at the people gathered around at the pit of warehouse, buzzing with excitement for the coming danger.

"These people aren't gonna get changed, are they?" asked Buffy, already knowing the answer, "The rest of them, they're just fodder."

"Technically, yes, but I'm in. I will become immortal."

"Well, I've got a newsflash for you, brain trust. That's not how it works. You die and a demon sets up shop in your old house. It walks and it talks and it remembers your life, but it's not you."

"It's better than nothing," Ford said sullenly.

"And your life is nothing?"

Ford smirked humorlessly.

"Ford, these people don't deserve to die!" Buffy exclaimed at him.

"Neither do I!" Ford said, a wavering in his voice as he looked vulnerable for the first time, "But apparently no one took that into consideration because I'm still dying."

Buffy raised her eyebrows, speechless.

"I look good, don't I?" Ford said bitterly, "Well, guess what. I've got as much as six months left, and by then, what they bury won't even look like me. I'll be bald and shriveled and I'll smell bad... No, I'm not going out that way."

Reluctant tears welled in Buffy's eyes, but she breathed in and wouldn't let them fall. She turned away, her chest heavy with guilt and remorse.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Summers, did I ruin your anger riff? Does the nest of tumors liquifying my brain kind of spoil the fun?"

Buffy looked back at him after blinking tears out of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I had no idea. But what you're doing is still very wrong."

"Okay, well you try vomiting for two hours straight because the pain in your head is so intense, and then we'll discuss the concept of right and wrong. These people are sheep. They want to be vampires because they're lonely. Miserable. Bored. I don't have a choice!"

"You have a choice. You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice! You're opting for mass murder here, and nothing you say is going to make that okay."

"You think I need to justify myself to you?"

"I think this is all part of your little fantasy drama! Isn't this exactly how you imagined it? You tell me how you've suffered and I feel sorry for you. Well, I do feel sorry for you, and if those vampires come in here and start feeding, I'll kill you myself."

"You know what, Summers?" said Ford, his voice almost inaudible, "I really did miss you."

Buffy's heart dropped at the sound of cars and motorcycles coming to a screeching halt outside of the warehouse.

"Ford," she said, beginning to panic, "Help me stop this. Please."

Ford only looked away, guilty. Buffy sighed and pushed passed him, rushing down the stairs.

"Listen to me!" she called out to the gathering, "This is not the mothership, people. This is ugly death come to play-"

Ford rushed down to her and hit her across the head. Caught off guard, Buffy lost her footing and stumbled down the rest of the stairs and hit the concrete floor with a thud. She got back up, only for an ominous sound at the solid metal entrance door to grab and hold everyone's attention. Looking haunted, Chanterelle walked up the staircase and hovered near the door. She gasped as it suddenly opened, and a grinning vampire walked in with his ghostly twisted face, grinning ear to ear and sporting a black leather duster. Buffy frowned and peered up at the vampire from down at the pit. _Spike_. He loomed forward, flanked by his minions, and growled.

"Take them all. Save the slayer for me," he ordered, and his minions immediately began to rush down the stairs and over the railings, wasting no time in attacking and feeding. Spike lunged and bit Chanterelle's lily white neck.

Buffy's chest heaved, flustered by the commotion. Her attention was grabbed by the ghostly figure of Drusilla, looking just like she did in Mr. Schue's old photograph. She looked gaunt and lost in her long white nightgown. Buffy bit her lip and made a decision, grasping for the stake hidden in the lining of her jacket. The way Drusilla kept popping up must have meant that she was someone important.

Buffy hopped onto one of the tables with goblets of wine served on it and threw herself at the railings, pulling herself up onto the balcony and slipping behind Drusilla, holding the stake up to her fragile-looking chest.

"Hey, Spike!" she called out to him as he buried his face into Chanterelle's neck.

He looked up, his yellow eyes furious as he saw Drusilla threatened.

"Everybody stop!" he said immediately, his voice booming throughout the warehouse, followed by silence.

_Whoa, _thought Buffy, _I guess she's way more important than I thought_.

"Good idea," said Buffy, "Now you let everyone out or your girlfriend fits in an ashtray."

"Let them go," Spike growled reluctantly, and his minions were subdued.

_Wow_, thought Buffy, trying to hide her surprise that her plan worked, _He must really love this chick_. The victims rushed away, squeezing through each other from the staircase, and rushing outside. The Skanks helped Chanterelle escape, carrying her away, bloody and whimpering.

"Down the stairs," said Buffy, still holding a sharp stake up to Drusilla's chest.

She and Drusilla walked forward as Spike walked down the metal stairs, and Buffy threw the woman down to him and made a quick escape out the door, closing the entrance behind her to lock the others inside

Buffy walked out, almost unable to share a sigh of relief. Her whole body was charged with wild fear and a rush of emotions as the other victims limped away, crying, or brittley quiet. She did feel somewhat of a familiar relief as two figures approached the scene, one with bone-straight black hair and a worried frown, and one with a mess of blond waves and guilty eyes.

"Tina, Sam," Buffy breathed, "You guys are just in time."

"Are there vampires?" asked Tina, as Mike approached behind her, no doubt having driven them here in his father's car.

"They're contained," Buffy sighed, "They'll get out eventually, though. We should probably go. We can come back when they're gone."

"Come back for what?" asked Mike.

Buffy looked back at the warehouse solemnly, knowing exactly who didn't survive.

"For the body," she replied.

xxx

Just a short few days later, Will's health was restored, after a long week of laying in bed with a strange flu and short moments of lucidity. However, he hadn't spent his last night resting. He spent it in the Lima cemetery, and not to do the job he'd signed up for, but for support, as Buffy laid a bouquet on the grave of the friend she'd lost.

He strode down the halls of McKinley High, towards his office, his heart still heavy with the heartbreak of his slayer. He walked into his office, only to find a woman already there, with blond hair resting on her shoulders and tucked into a tight black sweater-dress. She looked up from an iPhone in her hands and smiled widely.

"You must be-"

"Will Schuester," he nodded, "Buffy's watcher."

"Well," the woman got up and offered her hand for Will to shake, "I'm Holly Holliday."

"I know who you are," said Will, keeping his hands firmly at his sides, "I want to know who in their right mind running the watcher's council elected you to watch my slayer in my absence."

"Excuse me?" she said, caught off guard.

"Buffy had to bury a friend, because of your negligence," said Will, "As her watcher, you are supposed to help her avoid this kind of danger and be there with help when it happens. Where were you?"

Holly stammered and looked away. "I-I, it was a very... unfortunate situation-"

"Unfortunate?" Will raised an eyebrow, "This never should have happened."

"I'm sorry," Holly sighed, "But she needed a break. You work her into the ground. She needed time to be a normal teenager."

"She's _not _a normal teenager, Ms. Holliday. She saves lives."

"I know. It's just a lot of pressure for a seventeen year old girl."

"You think I don't know that?" asked Will, running his fingers through his hair, feeling just a little hypocritical, "But Holly, we can't let things like this happen. Do you understand?"

"Of course," Holly nodded, "The truth is, I knew I wasn't the best choice to watch the slayer while you were gone. I need so much more training..."

Will sighed. "At least you know that now. And you have the experience."

"Still," Holly sighed, "I'll be surprised if the council ever lets me watch another slayer. Some watchers go their whole lives being completely qualified and not getting to watch a single slayer. I'll be their last choice."

Will shrugged. "It's not like there's any such thing as a perfect watcher. We all make mistakes. I was completely lost when I first started watching Buffy."

Holly smiled at Will and folded her arms. "Well, now you seem to know what you're doing. You care about her a lot."

"I do," Will nodded in agreement, "I don't want to make a mistake that turns out to be fatal."

xxx

Quinn shivered outside of Lima's bus station. She'd skipped a day of school to be here, waiting on the metal outdoor benches and feeling the cold seeping through her clothes. She was conflicted; throwing arguments back and over in her own head, wondering and wondering if this was a huge mistake. If Jesse could help. If Jesse could change. So many times she considered backing out, just to avoid seeing his face. It was hard enough when he dated Rachel Berry last year. She bumped into him the odd time before she rushed away and was forced to think about him taking advantage of her like she knew he would. Still, the one thing keeping her here was too precious to give up.

"Lucy?"

Quinn looked up, wide-eyed, to see Jesse approaching her with a big grin and the sun at his back, pulling a suitcase along with him.

"You're here early," she said as she stood to greet him.

"No," Jesse shook his head, "You must have lost track of time. You looked so deep in thought, I almost didn't want to disturb you. What's on your mind, Lucy?"

"People call me Quinn now," she said, with a stony expression.

"I know," he nodded, "It's some sort of testament to the new you, right? Quinn Fabray, cheerleader. Quinn Fabray, baby mama. Not Lucy Caboosey anymore."

"Just... tell me what you want."

Jesse frowned mockingly. "I want to help you... Quinn. Isn't that what you called me for? Help?"

"Help from you never comes without a price. What is it?"

"You don't beat around the bush," Jesse laughed, "I always forgot how direct you were. We used to make quite the duo. My charm, your bluntness."

Quinn bristled. "Yeah, we were a regular Starsky and Hutch."

"Listen, it's early. Let's grab breakfast - on me - we can catch up and then tomorrow we can talk all about our arrangement."

Quinn sighed and looked around at the bus station with frustration. "I knew this would happen. You're going to drag this out for as long as you can. You love the suspense. The drama."

"You know me so well," Jesse sighed, "But people change, Quinn. I'm not the same kid I used to be. I have priorities now."

Quinn folded her arms suspiciously. "I don't trust you."

"I know. I don't blame you," Jesse smirked, "But I _can _help you. In fact, I _want _to help you."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I care about you, Lucy Q."

Quinn flinched. Only Santana called her that. When Jesse did, it sounded vaguely threatening.

"Is it Rachel?"

"Excuse me?" Jesse blinked.

"I know you used to date Rachel. If you want her back, I can't help you with that-"

"I don't want to restart my relationship with Rachel Berry," Jesse smirked and shook his head of dark curls, "I don't want anything from you, Quinn."

"But-"

"But, don't worry about it. It has nothing to do with you. All I want is what you want. We're going to get you you're baby back."

xxx

That night, Santana leaned over the worn wooden bar-top of Willy's Demon Bar as Willy finished wiping a foggy glass clean.

"'Ey, Lopez," he nodded to her, "You sure you ain't done for tonight?"

Santana looked up from a heated up mug of blood and whiskey and arched her eyebrow at Willy and his slicked back dark hair.

"I'm the creature of the night," she shook her head, "My curfew isn't until sunset."

"Sure, but technically you're underaged."

"Shut up, Willy," Santana groaned.

Her head felt a little foggy, but she hated the feeling that Willy was right. Not about drinking underage. If bullets don't do the trick, then neither will alcohol poisoning or liver disease. But about the fact that she shouldn't be here. That she should have something better to do. Truth was, there was nothing. Quinn was always off doing some sort of Nancy Drew sleuthing and trying to find her Puckerman lovechild, and Brittany... It was way too painful to see Brittany. She even found it hard to keep a friendship with the slayer because her lame friends were always around. Even when Santana tried to hang out with Sofia, it felt awkward, especially since she found out that Sofia was her mother. There was so much unspoken between them and Santana didn't want to have to go through the inevitable conversations that would ensue.

"I think I'll turn in, Willy," Santana sighed, pushing her mug away.

"Going on the hunt?" asked Willy.

"Nah," Santana shook her head, "Maybe I'll see a movie."

"I don't think theatres are open this time of night."

Santana groaned and hopped off of the bar stools. "So I'll watch re-runs of Beauty and the Geek at home, Willy. Jeez."

Santana headed out of the bar into downtown's darkness. The streetlamps in the distance made the street seem even stranger, with lurid colors jumping out of seedy corner stores. Santana headed down the alley, making her way farther into the darkness. She liked to stick to dark shortcuts instead of sidewalks these days. However, as she made her way home, she felt that eerie instinct that someone was watching her. Not one to waste anytime, Santana whipped around and shot a high kick at whatever was behind her. A man fell to the ground at the force of her kick, and as she loomed forward to see his face under the pale glow of a faraway streetlamp, she noticed how handsome he was. To her surprise, he started to chuckle as he lifted his head, his dark hair cropped.

"Is there a problem?" he grinned.

"I don't know, is there?" Santana shrugged in her faux fur vest.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, "But don't worry. I don't bite."

Santana backed up and narrowed her eyes as the handsome stranger stood up. "So spit it out, Seacrest. What do you want?"

"Same thing you do," he said, rubbing his neck.

"Okay," Santana sighed impatiently, "What do I want?"

"To kill them. The kill them all," he smirked cryptically.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm so over this hype of the undead. I get it. This is a Hellmouth. Evil is among us. Just let a girl wallow and have a little drunken pity sex and not have to worry about those that go bump in the night."

The man looked taken aback. "I don't think that's an option anymore. We're standing on the mouth of Hell, and we'd be fools to think that it was really closed for good."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him. "Again, what do you want from me?"

"You know the slayer."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"I wasn't asking a question," he smirked. "The slayer's going to need all the help she can get. I'll stay in touch."

Santana raised an eyebrow as he began to walk away. "Wait! Who are you?"

"Let's just say, I'm a friend."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Trust me, the slayer doesn't need another friend. The slayer is rolling in friends."

"I didn't say I was hers."

xxx

Finn woke up the next morning, wondering how specks of glitter had gotten on the back of his neck. It'd been a few months since his mom and Kurt's dad decided to move in together, and he'd been bunking in Kurt's room while Burt turned the attic into a bedroom. In all honesty, Finn had felt pretty awkward about sharing a room with a gay dude, but the real problem turned out to be that there was glitter everywhere.

He stumbled downstairs, groggily, in a seemingly clean outfit he'd picked off of the floor at the end of his bed. Like any other day, he was met downstairs by the friendly faces of his new family, but today especially, they seemed to be wearing uncontrollable, excited smiles.

"Morning," Finn said, slightly confused as he kissed his mom on the top of her head.

"Good morning, sweetie," she said, ecstatic, "Sit down, sit down, I made pancakes."

"Funny shapes?" asked Finn as he took a seat next to Burt at the kitchen table.

"Uh, no. Chocolate chips," smiled Carole, doling pancakes onto Finn's plate.

"Kurt, hurry up!" Burt called.

Kurt sighed reluctantly as he joined them in the kitchen. "You have to give me time to do my hair or what's the point of even going to school?"

"Just wear a hat," Burt smirked, "Come on, sit down."

"What's going on?" asked Finn as Burt pushed Kurt onto a chair.

"Come on, tell 'em!" Burt smiled at Carole.

"No, come on, you tell them! Please," Carole smiled.

"Okay," shrugged Burt, "So you know how I drive Carole to work every Tuesday? Well, instead, I drove her to your school and I brought her to that hallway where she saved my life, very romantic of me, I might add-"

"He proposed!" Carole screamed in excitement, "He proposed!"

"Hey, you stole the punchline!" Burt smiled, and leaned over to kiss her.

"Wow, just yesterday?" Finn raised an eyebrow.

Kurt squeeled and grabbed Carole's hand to get a good look at the ring. "Oh, Dad," he smiled proudly, waving his hand in front of his face.

"We wanted the two of you to be the first to know," smiled Carole, "I'm so excited. And nervous."

"Oh my God, don't be! This is just what I needed. I will take care of it from here. I have a trunk full of wedding magazines hidden under my bed. I'm thinking of a russett and cognac theme. Those are colors, Finn. Fall wedding colors!"

"Don't get too extravagant, Kurt," said Burt, "We're going to use whatever savings we have on the honeymoon. That's right, we're going to Waikiki! To that hotel where they put all the guest stars in Lost."

"Finn, you haven't said anything," said Carole.

Finn opened his mouth and closed it again like a guppy, feeling a little lost in all the excitement. "Uh... I guess I'm just kinda stunned..." he said, and looked into his chocolate chip pancakes.

"Come on, Finn, it's gonna be great," said Burt, "And I'm gonna get your room done real soon."

"Come on, honey, be happy for me," smiled Carole.

"I am, Mom."

"Okay, listen, Kurt, Mr. Wedding Planner, I want you to take care of one thing. I don't care about the food or the booze, but I'll be needing one heck of a band. I've been eating right, I've been exercising and I want to boogie with Carole at this thing, okay?"

"Already taken care of, Dad," Kurt smiled widely, "The New Directions will be your band! They're cheap, they're available... Long story short, you're having a glee wedding!"

xxx

Quinn felt a little lost in her old neighborhood. She knew this area like the back of her hand, and yet with everything that happened last year, she felt like a complete outsider. She truly didn't belong here anymore. Not far from her own house, she walked up to a large colonial with an old fashioned mailbox in the yard that had 'St. James' written in black, loopy writing. At the porch, she rang the doorbell and didn't have to wait long for Jesse to let her in.

"I'm so glad you came," he smiled and spoke as if he were an eager housewife throwing a dinner party, "Follow me to the kitchen."

Jesse's house was a little more airy and light than her own old residence across the street. He led her into the kitchen, all decked in teal, and gestured for her to sit with him at the breakfast nook.

"So," said Quinn, taking a seat and glancing at the coffee with cream he had set in front of her, "Can you help me?"

"Really, Quinn, small talk won't kill you," Jesse shook his head and took a sip of his coffee, "We used to be so comfortable with each other. What happened?"

Quinn sighed and sat back. "I don't want to go through that, Jesse. It doesn't matter. You know what I want to talk about."

Jesse frowned seriously. "I want to help you. Really, I do, but I can't move on if we don't clear the air. I don't want to be speaking to some quick-lipped, rigid hostile."

Quinn sighed and leaned forward, taking a sip of the frothy coffee. The last thing she expected Jesse St. James to want from her was bonding time. As long as the demands were so low, she thought it was a good idea to supply them.

"I think you're confused about what I want from you," said Quinn.

"How so?"

"I don't want my baby back," Quinn shook her head, "I just want to see her. I want to know she's okay."

"Maybe for now that's what you want, but it's not going to stop. You can't curb your desires. She's your child and you have a need to care for her. That won't end. I'm sure."

"What would you know about mothers? Your own mother's rarely around."

Jesse nodded. "And that's fine if you want Beth to turn out like me."

Quinn sighed as she thought about this. "She won't."

"What makes you so sure? You told me about the pangs. A baby doing magic? Who's ever heard of it? That can't end well. What if she's like you? An infant, setting things on fire."

Quinn remained silent for a moment. "Do you really think she'd be better off with me?"

"Maybe," said Jesse, "You're headstrong. You could make it work."

"But Shelby Corcoran... you knew her, right? She was your teacher."

"Yes. Ms. Corcoran was fond of me," he said, his jaw clenching.

"So, do you know where she is?"

Jesse frowned. "Yes."

"Where?"

"Cleveland. That's not important right now."

"Not important?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "That's the only information I need!"

"Please. You really think you're going to go drive to Cleveland and happen to find Shelby's house and then what? Be welcomed with open arms? Kidnap the baby?"

"Of course not."

"No. We need a plan, Quinn," said Jesse, "We have to come up with one together."

"Together? Jesse..."

"What is it?"

"If we're going to work together, we have to be honest. I have to know everything."

"Like what?"

"You know what. What are you getting out of this? Don't tell me you're doing it out of the kindness of your heart, because I know that you don't like me, even if you pretend to."

Jesse sighed. "Of course I like you, Lucy. I just don't respect you."

Quinn pursed her lips. "What do you want?" she asked.

"I want Shelby. I want her to myself, and I want her baby out of the picture."

xxx

"So what do you want to talk about in private?"

Instead of homeroom, Sam had dragged Buffy to an empty classroom and was pacing near the teacher's desk and glancing up at the solar system model every once in awhile. She was hoping he wasn't going to once again apologise for doing recon behind her back. She'd already forgiven him after everything that happened with Ford, and she just wanted them to move on.

"I think I love you," he finally said.

Buffy's mouth dropped open. "...What?"

All of a sudden, he knelt down and removed a small, square white case from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a small diamond ring.

"Oh my God, are you proposing?!" Buffy knitted her eyebrows together, "We've known each other for six weeks! Stand up, you're freaking me out."

Sam smirked. "I want to marry you... someday. Until then, will you accept this promise ring?"

Buffy blushed. "What are you, six?"

"If you accept, this ring will symbolise my promise to you to be true. Never pressure you to do anything. To listen to your problems, to tell you when you have food in your teeth. Or eye gunk. I promise to make you feel proud when you point down the hall and say that dude's my boyfriend. I promise to do all those things without ever trying to sound like Matthew McConaughey."

Buffy smiled. "Sam... I like the way things are."

Sam shook his head. "I want to be more than friends with benefits, Buffy."

"You _are _more than that-"

"But not your boyfriend... I really care about you, Buffy. And I want us to be together, for real."

Buffy sighed, and shook her head. "I'm a slayer, Sam. And for a slayer, there are no promises. Not when it comes to the future. I'm sorry."

"Is that a no?"

Buffy stared at him, not having the heart to reject those innocent eyes. "It's a maybe."

The classroom door opened, and Will stuck his head in. "Am I interrupting?" he asked.

"No," Buffy quickly said.

"I was just leaving," Sam said half-heartedly and walked out, shoving his ring back into his pocket.

"So what's up?" Buffy asked Will as Sam closed the door behind him.

"Medical transporting a monthly supply of blood to the hospital," said Will, looking a little distracted.

"Mm. Vampire meals on wheels."

"Hopefully not. We'll meet outside the hospital at eight thirty. I'll bring the weapons."

"I'll bring the party mix."

"Just... don't be late."

"Have I ever let you down?"

Will left the classroom and strode down the hallway, bumping into a familiar redhead.

"Emma," he smiled with surprise, "Good to see you."

"Yeah," Emma smiled shyly, "You'd think we'd get to see each other more, seeing as we work together."

"Right. I've just been so busy."

"Mm. Me too. I haven't even gone to see a movie in... well I don't know how long."

"Yeah, I think the last movie I saw in theatres was MacGruber."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I've been wanting to see The Artist. It looks so romantic. I love silent films."

"Oh... Oh. Well, I mean, so do I. Want to see it, I mean. We could, you know, we could see it-"

"This weekend?"

Will raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Saturday."

The bell sounded throughout the school, and he and Emma parted ways. With a new skip in his step, Will returned to his office only to find people already in it - two police officers and a woman dressed in a sharp business suit.

"Will Schuester?" she asked.

"...Yes?"

"Detective Winslow," she introduced herself, flashing her badge, "You're gonna have to come with me."

"Why?"

"There was a homicide on campus last night. The victim had no identification, but he was carrying a slip of paper with your name and address on it."

Detective Winslow held up a plastic bag with a slip of paper tucked inside and Will walked forward to look at it.

"...My name?"

Winslow nodded. "We need you to identify a body."


	40. The Mark of Eyghon

"So what seems to be the problem?"

Rachel squirmed in the small space of her office. Her office was really a fold-out chair and a nightstand that she'd shoved into one of McKinley High's unused custodial closets. She'd placed one of Finn's bean bag chairs opposite her, where at the moment, Morgan Ru was shifting uncomfortably and the rest of the closet's space was taken up by Dave Karofsky's broad shoulders. It wasn't what Rachel had pictured when she decided to make an official office for her couples' therapy sessions, but everyone's gotta start somewhere.

"He won't kiss me," Morgan whined, throwing an accusing glare at Karofsky, "Even right now he seems to want to be anywhere but with me."

Karofsky groaned and squirmed next to Morgan on the bean bag chair. "Maybe I'm just trying to respect you. Like a gentleman."

"That can't be it," Rachel shook her head, "Sometimes tension and negligence can occur in a relationship when someone is hiding something. David, is there anything you'd like to tell Morgan?"

Karofsky gave a tight head-shake.

"If I find out you're cheating on me, Dave Karofsky..." Morgan's face began to turn slightly red, "You better not be hiding anything."

"I'm not! I swear!" Dave threw up his hands.

"Good! I don't want to have to find out something about you from people like, like... Quinn Fabray, or... Man-Hands Berry!" Morgan cried.

"Hey, I'm right here. Trying to help you," frowned Rachel.

"This is stupid," Dave shook his head, and rose from the bean bag, looking as big as a bear in the small closet space.

"Don't make me look like an idiot, Dave!" cried Morgan, "If I find out that you're hiding something from me, I can make your life Hell! Jocks are second only to cheerleaders. Remember that!"

Dave walked out of the closet, his big shoulders tense.

"Wait!" Morgan cried, and ran after him, "Come back! I love you!"

The door swung closed again and Rachel sighed. "I have a feeling I'll be seeing them again," she said to herself.

The door opened again and Sam stuck his head in. "Hey, Rachel," he said, blinking behind a shaggy blond fringe.

"Hello, Sam," Rachel clasped her hands together and smiled formally, "Would you like to schedule an appointment with my couples' therapy services?"

"Uh, no. No. I just came because I missed the Biology notes," said Sam, walking into the closet and leaving the door open.

"Are you sure?" asked Rachel, "I know that you and Buffy are in an awkward place right now-"

"Really, Rachel, we don't need couples' therapy," Sam leaned against the door frame, "Technically, we're not a couple at all."

"Is that resentment I hear in your tone?" Rachel smirked as she grabbed her backpack and dug through it for Biology notes.

"No," Sam sighed, "It doesn't matter. We'll deal with it."

"The thing about Buffy, Sam, is that she's been through a lot of loss, in terms of people she cares about. Her parents divorce was especially hard on her. As much as she says that it's about being a slayer and protecting her friends, it's more about her fear of commitment. She's afraid to let herself be happy because the rug could be pulled from under her feet at anytime," said Rachel, removing notes from her bag.

"Wow, you've thought about this a lot," said Sam.

"You guys are my friends. I care about you," shrugged Rachel, handing him her notes, "Why don't you try taking it slow with Buffy?"

Sam bit his lip. "Thanks, Rachel."

"Your welcome, Sam!" Rachel beamed.

xxx

"Don't be late? Sheesh," Buffy pouted that night as the moon shone over St. Rita's Medical Centre and Mr. Schuester had yet to show up. She took out her cellphone, ready to demand his whereabouts, when a van pulled up at the side of the hospital, next to the ambulances. Buffy watched from behind a phone booth as two ER doctors came out to greet the driver and carry out boxes of blood bags.

"Since when do doctors take deliveries?" Buffy asked herself.

Just as the medical van drove away, a retro convertible with tinted windows approached from the shadows, and pulled up to the doctors. One doctor took a blood bag out of the box and poured a little into his mouth.

"Hey!" said the driver, as he got out of his car, his face wrinkled like a demon, "No sampling the product."

_That's my cue_, thought Buffy. She darted forward and kicked at the kneeling doctor vamp, and spun the other one to the ground. The driver took a punch at her, and missed, only to have Buffy give him a powerful kick to the chest that sent him sprawling to the ground. One of the doctor vamps picked her up from behind and slammed her onto the hood of the car, but she kicked at his shoulder and leapt back up. Someone else darted forward. A girl-

"Santana!" Buffy gasped, almost about to kick at her.

"Buffy, watch it," she said, darting for a vamp that was about to trip Buffy up.

Together, Santana and Buffy finished off the vamp doctors with ease, but the driver got away, speeding off in his convertible.

Buffy kneeled down to the cooler and opened it to examine the packets of blood. "How did you know about this?" she asked Santana.

"It's delivery day," Santana smirked knowingly, "Everyone knows about this... They only got away with one bag."

"Do you think you could make sure that the hospital gets the rest?"

"What am I, your maid?" Santana sneered.

"Come on," Buffy rolled her eyes.

Santana nodded. "Fine."

"Thanks. I'm worried about Mr. Schuester. He forgot to meet me here."

"Maybe he's late," Santana shrugged.

"Maybe. I'm gonna see if he's at home, though."

"'Kay," said Santana as Buffy sprinted away. She almost wanted to tell her about the mysterious stranger she'd bumped into the other night, but a part of her liked having a secret to herself.

xxx

Buffy arrived at Mr. Schuester's third floor apartment in less than fifteen minutes and slammed her fist against the door five times. Not only was she worried, but she was a little mad, an emotion that faded almost as soon as she saw Mr. Schue opening his apartment door to reveal his red-rimmed eyes and stubbly five o'clock shadow.

"Buffy... It's late. Are you okay?" he asked groggily.

Buffy blinked at his messy state. "I was just gonna ask you the same thing."

"I'm fine. I'm, uh... I'm busy, so... I'll see you on Monday. At school."

"Wait, Will... Did you forget? The hospital? The packets of blood?"

"Oh!" said Will, genuinely taken aback, "Yeah... Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. I mean, my feelings a little. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just in the middle of something important, um... I'm sorry, but I have to say goodnight now."

Will retreated back into his apartment and shut the door on Buffy's face. He walked back into his living room, distracted, and picked up the phone.

"Um, sorry to disturb you," he said into the reciever, "Um, I'm trying to reach Dierdre Page. This is Will Schuester. It's important... Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. When did she... pass away? … Oh. That recently? Um. Yes. We were friends when we were young... My condolences."

Will hung up the phone and ran his fingers through his hair, picking up his legal pad and pen, and running a stroke of ink through the name 'Dierdre Page'. Two names had already been crossed off of the list. Thomas Butcher and Philip Henry. The only two left... Bryan Ryan and William Schuester. Will sighed, distressed, and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a mark on the crook of his elbow. It wasn't something he liked to look at. The Mark of Eyghon.

"So... You're back."

xxx

Friday night stakeouts were pretty lame in Lima. All of the action seemed to happen when you didn't want it to. Santana lay on the cemeteries dry grass and waited for something to show up. Anything. She needed a vampire to kill or a demon to attack. Then again, she knew with full clarity what she was really waiting for. Her mysterious visitor. She hadn't thought of much but that handsome stranger since they met. Being a vampire could get boring after a while when your drive to kill and rampage was gone. She liked having a secret. At least it wasn't a shameful secret, like her rendezvous with Finn Hudson, of all people, at her Halloween party. This secret was harmless. So far.

Finally, she could understand why Buffy had been so taken with her last year. It wasn't really about Santana at all. It was about the adventure of having something mysterious and potentially dangerous all to yourself. There was something exciting about it. Lost in her thoughts, Santana didn't even notice when the stranger appeared for the second time.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I saw you with the slayer," he said.

Santana frowned. "Why do you care about the slayer? I thought you said you weren't here for her."

"I'm not. But that doesn't mean that she's not important."

Santana sighed. "Will you just tell me who you are? Your name, at least?"

The stranger smirked. "Angel."

"Angel?" Santana raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

Angel nodded. "It's not my birth name. But it's my name now."

"So Angel... Who _are _you? I mean, I know your name, but that's about it. You just show up, saying that the Hellmouth is going to open again, and what? You need help?"

"I'm here to give help," said Angel, "If help is needed."

"That's why you're really here?"

"...No. It's not the only reason."

"What? Are you running from the mob?"

"Sort of," Angel smirked, "That's not important right now. The town is in danger."

"The town is always in danger."

"Look out for the Mark of Eyghon."

"The mark of wha-"

In a blink, Angel had disappeared.

"Great," Santana groaned to herself, secretly pleased. The mystery was getting a little more fun.

xxx

Rachel tsked. None of the boys had shown up to glee club rehearsals on Monday morning, not even Mr. Schuester.

"This is ridiculous," she said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips, "Where are they?"

"Maybe Coach Beiste is making them stay at football practise longer," shrugged Quinn.

"That doesn't explain Kurt," said Tina.

"Or Mr. Schuester," said Buffy, thinking about how distraught Mr. Schue had looked the night before.

"If they don't show up, can we go to Taco Bell?" asked Brittany.

"No," said Rachel, turning to the girls authoritatively, "It's probably for the better. Since the boys are gone, I want to discuss something with you girls. It's about Kurt."

"What about him?" asked Mercedes, folding her arms.

"I think we've all noticed that the Karofsky bullying situation is getting way out of control," said Rachel, "He's miserable. He's barely even fighting me for solos anymore."

"Rachel's right," said Tina, "We've all been teased, but something about what Karofsky's doing is so much worse."

"We're all lucky enough to have athletic boyfriends, ladies. I say that we band together and demand that they confront Karofsky," said Rachel.

"Rachel, some of us don't have boyfriends," Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about? I have Finn, Brittany has Artie, Tina has Mike... Mercedes, you have a new boyfriend, right? Shawn?"

"Shane," Mercedes nodded proudly.

"Even Piper is dating someone on the hockey team," said Rachel.

"It's true. Rick the Stick and I are official," beamed Piper.

Buffy frowned. "No, Rachel, I mean-"

"Quinn!" exclaimed Rachel, "Of course, I'm so sorry. I just figured you and Noah Puckerman are such good friends now that he would listen to you."

Quinn nodded modestly. "I get it."

"No, Rachel, I meant me," Buffy folded her arms, "Sam is not my boyfriend. Besides, it sounds like you just set the feminist movement back, like, fifty years."

"Guys like Karofsky only respond to muscle," said Rachel.

"So we're gonna fight violence with violence?" asked Buffy, "Don't get me wrong, some good old fashioned brute force is what I use to get stuff done ninety nine percent of the time, but there has to be a better way to stop bullying than to bully."

"That's not what I'm saying!" said Rachel, "I'm saying that we need to defend Kurt. There's strength in numbers."

"Puck can't get into a fight with Karofsky, Rachel," said Quinn, "He's on probation. He could get sent back to juvie."

Rachel sighed. "Look... If something bad happened to Kurt and we didn't do anything to stop it, we'll never be able to live with ourselves."

"I agree."

The girls turned to the door frame to see a familiar face clad in black denim and leather walking in with a smirk on his face.

"Jesse," breathed Rachel.

"In the flesh," he smirked, a half-eaten apple gripped in his hand as he strode in.

Quinn glared at him in surprise. "What are you doing here?" she said aloud.

"I can't take my girlfriend to lunch?" he asked, smiling at her with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

"I'm not your- I-" Quinn stammered at him, her face turning red as Rachel looked at her.

"Are you coming, Q-Bear?" he smiled, nauseatingly.

Quinn blushed and grabbed her bag. "I'll see you guys later," she said quietly and rushed out of the choir room as quickly as possible, grabbing Jesse's sleeve and dragging him out with her, all the while trying to forget the hurt on Rachel's face.

"What are you doing?" she hissed venomously as soon as they were at the school parking lot.

"You asked me to bring you to lunch," he said coyly, "So we could discuss everything."

"I told you to text me when you got here and park around the corner!" Quinn fumed.

"What's wrong, Quinn? Are you ashamed of me?" he smirked.

"Yes!" Quinn shouted, and took a few steps back from the boy to gather her breath.

Jesse had a way of getting under her skin like no-one else. Noah and even Rachel had a way of irritating her that made her only like them more. Jesse, on the other hand, enraged her like nothing else. He always brought out the worst in her.

"I don't know if I can do this," she said calmly, as her face finally reached a normal shade of pink.

"What do you mean, Fabray? You can't back out now. This is your daughter we're talking about. I told you all about Shelby's plan. Do you want your child to be subjected to that kind of power? Have a legacy of Wiccan shoes to fill?"

"I don't care," said Quinn, "I can't deal with you messing with my head. It won't be worth it. Things are better with you out of my life."

Jesse looked genuinely hurt a moment before he flashed another grin. "I didn't think you liked Rachel Berry."

"I don't," Quinn said too quickly, "But that little stunt to make her jealous was... childish. At the least."

"Fine," Jesse smirked and folded his arms, "I won't mess with your head."

"What?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"I won't. I promise," said Jesse, "I want this as much as you do, remember. I don't want to ruin my chance at happiness just because I wanted to have a little fun. No, we're in this together, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn pursed her lips. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

Jesse sighed. "I don't know," he said honestly, "But you were once my friend. My best friend. Despite having grown apart, I still care about you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. I want to help you in any way I can. I love you, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn furrowed her brow. "Love me? You don't even respect me. You barely like me. You don't know how to love me."

xxx

Kurt pushed open the door of the nurse's office, knowing that she wouldn't hear him knock. Nurse Delmonico - Mr. Schuester's ex-wife, as he informed the scooby gang - was never alert, her mini TV set always playing the latest episode of The Real Housewives of Somewhere, and she was glued to it.

"Nurse Terri?" Kurt raised an eyebrow as he waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention.

"What do you want?" she said quickly, muting the TV.

"I just need an ice pack," Kurt said coldly, holding his elbow in his hand.

"What happened?" she asked, mildly concerned as she fetched a cold ice pack.

"You don't have to pretend to care," sighed Kurt, "I know that you were the one behind all that stuff that happened on Halloween. You almost got Buffy killed."

Terri sighed. "I was just doing a favor for a friend. Not that I have to justify myself to you. Kerr, is it? Chris?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Just give me the ice pack."

"Show me the wound," said Terri, folding her arms with the ice pack tucked inside.

Kurt clenched his jaw and folded up the sleeves of his cardigan to show a bruise along his elbow, turned a bright, fleshy purple.

"I bumped into a locker," he shrugged.

"Bumped into a locker?" Terri raised her eyebrow, "Yeah. Or collided with a jock's fist?"

Kurt sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. You're being abused every day and no-one's doing anything about it. Don't you just wish something bad would happen to those meatheads that bully you?"

"I'm done wishing," Kurt said, heatedly, "I'm going to do something about this."

xxx

"Buffy," exclaimed Emma Pillsbury as she looked up from her office desk, "Can I help you?"

Buffy hovered in Ms. Pillsbury's doorway, noticing Sam's tufts of blond hair over the seat opposite her. "Sam?" she said, not expecting the boy to be here.

Sam sighed, and turned to face Buffy, the side of his eyes swollen and flushed pink, turning a light purple.

"Oh my God," she said breathlessly, "What happened?"

"I got into a fight with Karofsky," he said reluctantly, "He pushed Mike into Artie and I kind of... lost it."

"Sam and I were just discussing the benefits of verbal confrontation as opposed to physical," nodded Emma, "But I can see that Sam has learned his lesson. There are better ways to stick up for your friends."

"Right," Sam said, annoyed, "We were just trying to help Kurt."

Buffy wrinkled her brow sympathetically. "That means a lot."

Sam looked back at Buffy again, his face softening as he returned a smile.

"Anyways, Buffy, is there something I can help you with?" asked Ms. Pillsbury.

"Uh, yeah," said Buffy, "Can I talk to you... alone?"

"Of course. Sam, why don't you go back to class? I'll check in with you later," nodded Emma.

Sam slid off of his seat and passed Buffy with a tight smile.

"Is something wrong?" asked Emma, as Buffy took a tentative seat across from her.

"It's Will."

"Will? He's okay, isn't he?"

"I don't know. He didn't show up when he was supposed to last night and then when I went over to his place he was acting... well, very anti-Will. He wouldn't let me in and he looked really bad. I think he was drinking."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "That's so... odd."

"Have you noticed anything different lately?"

"No. Not really. Well, actually..."

"What?"

"I went by his office the other day and I saw him talking to the police."

"About what?"

"I don't know, Buffy. I'm sorry. I thought it would have something to do with this... business you two are in."

"No," Buffy shook her head, "We never get the police involved. They complicate things. I'm gonna go call him."

Without another word, Buffy rushed out of Emma's office and took her cellphone out of her pocket, ready to call Will as soon as she found somewhere private. She headed for his office, which was sure to be empty, only to find that it wasn't. She gasped when she walked in to find Bryan Ryan hunched over a mound of books. He jumped up quick when he saw her, and clenched his jaw as she blocked the entrance. Her eyes widened and she rushed over to him and twisted his arm behind his back before he could do anything sneaky.

"I know you!" said Buffy, "You're that costume shop guy! Mr. Ryan!"

"You've got quite the memory," he smirked.

"You nearly got us all killed on Halloween!"

"But you looked great!"

Buffy gave Bryan Ryan a quick punch to the face, and he reeled back, and held his jaw in his hand.

"Whoa," sighed Bryan, "So... Now we're even?"

"I'll let you know when we're even. What are you doing here?"

"Snooping around."

"Honesty? Nice touch."

"It's one of my virtues... Not really."

"I've got a great idea. Why don't I just call the police and have you arrested and then I can get back to my boring school day?"

"Yeah, the police. See, they tend to have all these questions and they'd really need William to answer them all."

"You know Will?"

"We go back. Way back. You don't happen to know where he is, do you?"

Buffy sighed and picked up her cellphone. "I'll call him." Buffy dialed his number and waited until he picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" he said groggily on the other line, sounding like he'd just woken up.

"Will? It's me."

"Buffy?... Unless this is an emergency, I'll see you on Monday."

"It _is _Monday," Buffy said, agitated, "Look, that's not the point. I'm in your office with someone who claims to be an old friend. Bryan Ryan?"

Will paused a moment on the other line. "He's there with you? Listen, Buffy, you're in grave danger while Bryan's there. I want you to put the phone down and get out of the library as soon as possible."

"I'm not going anywhere until you give me some answers," said Buffy, when suddenly, a guy burst through the office door, looking more corpse than man.

Buffy dropped her cellphone as the growling man bounded forward and she punched him back and threw him over the office desk. As Buffy whipped around, she noticed her friends coming towards the office with confused faces. Sam held an ice pack to his face, but dropped it as soon as he saw the commotion.

"Don't let him get away," she called as she dealt with the attacking man.

Sam tried to back Bryan Ryan into the office, but Bryan knocked him to the side and tried to push past Rachel, Tina and Mike. Sam bounced back up and punched Bryan Ryan square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Buffy knocked out the John Doe, and the next thing the scooby gang knew, they were dragging Bryan Ryan and Mr. Doe to behind the auditorium, where they locked the nameless guy in the costume locker and watched him wake up from behind a cage wall.

"I'm not going to get close enough to feel his pulse, but he looks dead," said Tina, nodding the angry corpse pacing in the costume cage.

Bryan Ryan sat at a vanity table and held his head in hand.

"Except for the walking and attacking Buffy part," said Sam, through gritted teeth, as he held another ice pack to his face.

"He's dead," said Bryan, "Sorry, Phillip. Really, I am."

The others turned to the shaking stage curtains as Will slipped through them, looking more alert than when Buffy had seen him last.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked, followed closely by Ms. Pillsbury, whose eyes were at their widest.

"We're fine," said Buffy, as Corpsey Phil slammed himself against the costume cage door.

Will walked forward, his jaw dropped. "It can't be," he said to himself.

"Yes, it can," smirked Bryan Ryan, catching Will's attention, "Hello, Billy."

"I thought I told you to leave town," Will clenched his jaw.

"You did. I didn't. Sorry, my lease is paid until the end of the month."

Without warning, Will loomed forward to Bryan and grabbed him by his sandy hair.

"You should have left when I told you to," said Will, a deadly look in his eyes.

"Will!" gasped Buffy.

"You put these people in danger. People I care about," hissed Will.

"If you cared so much about them, why didn't you leave town?" Bryan asked angrily and pushed Will off of him, "You're having the dreams. I know. I am, too. We both know what's coming."

"What dreams? What is going on here?" demanded Buffy.

"Tell her, Billy," said Bryan.

"Will..." said Buffy.

The door on the costume locker bust open and Phillip stormed out, lunging for Will. Buffy kicked him back in the chest several times until he fell back and slumped against the wall. Phillip started to sieze, and fell to the ground, his decrepit body turning to a gelatinous blob on the floor.

"That's something you don't see every day," sighed Mike.

"I'm gonna be in therapy til I'm thirty," said Rachel, shaken.

"Where's Bryan?" Buffy suddenly asked as Ms. Pillsbury fainted and fell to Will's side, terrified.

"Are you okay, Emma?" asked Will, putting his arms over her as Buffy ran off to find Bryan Ryan.

Her eyes fluttered back open. "Did any of it get on me?" she asked, "Did it?

"No, not it's okay. It's okay," he repeated to her as he embraced her and smoothed down her hair.

Buffy came back through the curtains to backstage, frowning deeply. "I lost Bryan. Will, what's going on?"

"It's complicated, Buffy," he said as he held Emma, "And frankly, it's private."

"I don't care if it's private," Buffy fumed, "I care about dead guys attacking us. I care about you losing time in your apartment."

"I was... I was just trying to find a solution."

"Will, share! What is the Mark of Eyghon?"

"This is not your battle, Buffy. I'm your watcher and I am telling you to stay out of it!" he snapped, "Come on, Emma. I'm gonna take you home."

Buffy watched with a clenched jaw as Will left with Emma. "Okay," Buffy sighed and looked at her friend, "We have work to do. Tina, I want you to find out anything and everything you can about the Mark of Eyghon."

"I'll look online, but the Mark of Eyghon sounds like a book thing," shrugged Tina.

"Then hit the books," said Buffy, "Rachel, how do you feel about searching through Will's personal files and seeing what you can find?"

"I feel pretty good about it," said Rachel, "What does that say about me? Never mind, I'm on it."

"Mike, can you get online? Search for symbols?"

"Sure," said Mike.

"What can I do?" asked Sam.

Buffy thought for a moment. "You can... help Rachel."

"Come on, Buffy," Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't need busy work. I want to do something that will actually help Mr. Schuester. I can help you."

"Sam..." Buffy sighed, "Just go help Rachel, okay? I don't need one more thing to worry about."

Sam frowned and walked off to follow Rachel.

xxx

"Thanks for bringing me here," said Emma, sifting through junk mail that Will had abandoned beside his front door, "I'm not ready to be home alone just yet."

"Why don't you sit down?" asked Will, taking the flyers out of her hands.

"Oh. Yes, well... okay," said Emma, finding her way to the living room and taking a careful seat on the edge of the couch.

"Emma, I'm so sorry about all of this," he sighed, "I never meant for you to be involved in any of this."

"I have to be honest, Will, I kind of expected that at some point I would end up getting involved. That's what happens when two people... get involved," she said, and edged in closer.

Will leaned into her, and sighed, melancholy. "I really should get you home... I'm not a very safe person to be around at the moment."

Emma sighed. "Nothing in the world is safe, Will. I know that by now. Don't you?"


	41. The Other Vampire

"Ah, ha!"

No one was surprised when Tina had an 'Ah, Ha!' moment anymore. Tina's existence was comprised of 'Ah, Ha!' moments. Mike thought it would be very retro and trend-setting of her to bring back 'Eureka!' but that hadn't happened. Still, as regular an occurrence as it was, when Tina had an 'Ah, Ha!' moment, people stopped and listened. Maybe not the rest of the general population, but the scoobies, for sure. Gathered over books and files and web page backstage of the auditorium, the scoobies were just waiting now for Tina to have her moment.

"What do we got?" Buffy lept up and gave her attention to Tina.

"It's not Egyptian, it's Etruscan, mistaken because of the design pattern," said Tina, holding out a time-colored book with a drawing of the Mark of Eyghon inside, "But any fool can see it predates their iconology. Look, the Mark of Eyghon, worn by his initiates. 'Eyghon, also called the sleepwalker, can only exist in this reality by possessing an unconscious host. The temporary possession imbues the host with a euphoric feeling of power'."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at the book. "Yeah, but what about not temporary?" she asked.

"'Unless the proper rituals are observed, the possession is permanent and Eyghon will be born from within the host'," Tina read aloud.

"I'm guessing, ew," Rachel wrinkled her nose.

"Hey, listen," said Tina, eyes glued to her book, "'Once called, Eyghon can also take possession of the dead, but it's demonic energy soon disintegrates the host and it must jump to the nearest dead or unconscious person to continue living'."

Buffy sighed impatiently. "I still don't get what this has to do with Will."

"I don't know about Mr. Schuester, but ancient sects used to induce possessions for ancient bacchanals and orgies."

"Okay," groaned Mike, closing a book with disgust, "Mr. Schuester and orgies in the same sentence. I could have lived without that one."

"Wait a minute," said Buffy, "The dead guy's all puddly now."

"So the demon's gone," said Rachel, "There was no one dead to jump into! I mean, we're all... not dead."

"No," Buffy frowned, "No one dead. But someone unconscious."

"What?" Sam furrowed his brow, "You mean Ms. Pillsbury? She fainted for, like, two seconds, 'cause she was afraid of that gooey guy. It's a germ thing."

"Maybe two seconds was enough."

…

Will rarely used his kitchen appliances, other than his microwave, but tonight he decided to impress Emma with a home cooked meal. After all, she should be frail and shaken after their run in with his not-so-dead and not-so-living old acquaintance. He knew that he was. He shook just a little as he heard a noise in the living room; a quick and loud sort of snap.

"What was that?" he asked, poking his head around the arched entrance.

"What was what?" Emma asked, blinking innocently at him as she stood over his desk.

"I thought I heard something," he said, furrowing his brow.

"I didn't," Emma shrugged in her Kate Spade cardigan.

"Here," he smiled tentatively as he brought two plates of spaghetti into the living room and set them down on the coffee table, "It's one of the very few things I know how to make."

"It looks good," Emma smiled as they sat down together.

He had surprised her with how relaxed she'd seemed, especially considering what she'd just witnessed, but perhaps she adapted quickly to strange situations. Maybe the strange, supernatural life that Will had wasn't alarming to her anymore. He found that hard to swallow, though. She hadn't even bugged him in the kitchen to wash his hands and use fresh ingredients. She'd lounged in the living room, being just a little too quiet.

"I'll drive you home whenever you're finished," he said.

"You could take me home," said Emma, twirling a fork through her silky spaghetti, "Or you could take advantage of me in my weakened state."  
>Will blinked, surprised. If this was adapting, she was doing it well.<p>

"Emma... I-I mean, I'm really, a-attracted... to you," Will stammered, "But now really isn't the right time."

Emma smiled knowingly. "There's never been a better time," she said, and leaned forward into Will, splaying her thin fingers against his chest and pushing him back, locking their lips.

Will pushed away her surprisingly forceful arms. "This isn't right, Emma. I'd be taking advantage."

Emma rolled her eyes with more contempt than Will had ever seen in her.

"You don't change, do you, Will?" she frowned.

"What?"

"It's not right. It wouldn't be proper. People might get hurt. You're like a girl. Billy the kid. You cry at every funeral. You never had the strength for me."

Will blinked at Emma, bewildered as her voice became more distorted and unhuman.

"You don't deserve me. But guess what? You've got me. Under your skin."

She lunged forward and gripped Will's neck with thin, iron fists. She kissed him once - hard and affectionless - and when she pulled back, her face had changed from delicate and beautiful to a strange, warped demonic version of herself, with holes in her skin and cat-like eyes.

"Was it good for you?" she teased in her distorted voice before she grabbed Will's head and slammed it into the surface of his coffee table, "You never had the stomach. But that's okay. Cause I'm about to rip it out."

Emma threw Will back onto the ground with extreme force. He tumbled and hit the hardwood, the air winded out of him as his head pulsed and blood roared in his ears. He barely heard the sound of his front door being kicked open. Buffy bounded across the room and kicked Ms. Pillsbury's possessed ass. With a roundhouse kick to the face, Emma fell backwards onto the couch, but she quickly rebounded and glared at Buffy.

"Back off!" Buffy warned, sounding a little desperate and her eyes settled on Will, struggling to breathe on the floor.

Emma laughed to herself. "Three down, two to go. Be seeing you."

Before Buffy could stop her, Emma had ducked out of the window, taking shards of broken glass flying down with her. Will was sitting up and stared at the hole in his window with an internal fire behind his eyes.

"Will, are you okay?" Buffy asked urgently, crouching beside him.

"Emma," he whispered, pained, "Oh God, what have I done?"

"Will, how do we stop this? Talk to me! Will, you're scaring me."

Will sighed and looked at Buffy as if only just noticing her. He looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he said, sadness brimming in his eyes.

"Don't be sorry! Be Mr. Schuester! Come on, we fight monsters. This is what we do. They show up, they scare us, I beat 'em and they go away. This isn't any different."

"This _is _different."

"Because you don't know how to stop it?"

"Because I created it!"

…

Rachel sighed and closed the last of Mr. Schuester's personal records after hours of monotonous research in the choir room. Saving the world was nowhere near as glamorous as it should be.

"Did you find anything?" asked Tina.

"Just meticulous banking," Rachel frowned.

"Hey, I found this," said Sam, taking a photograph out of a pouch of documents. He held up the photograph and the others peered at it, seeing that it was an old picture of Mr. Schuester when he was much younger, with much puffier hair and much worse skin.

"That's Mr. Schuester?" asked Tina, wholly surprised. The kid in the picture was lanky and awkward and too uncomfortable to even pose for a photograph. He shyly looked away, his face red and blotchy. Sure, Mr. Schuester had always been a dork, but he was also known throughout the school halls for being just a tad hunky. He had a swimmer's body and a model's eyes, and clearly ten times the confidence as he did when he was a young adult.

…

"I was twenty," explained Will, sitting on the edge of his couch, "I studied History at the Watcher's Academy. And the occult, of course. I hated it. The constant study. The overwhelming pressure of my... destiny. Not exactly a slayer's birthright, but to me, going into the family business felt just as restraining. I dropped out for a while and fell in with... a pretty bad crowd. Bryan Ryan's crowd. He was their ringleader. Back then, I wanted to be him. We all did. I wanted to be Bryan Ryan, the promising watcher who was gifted in magic and new all the tricks of the trade. Not little Billy Schuester. Impressionable Will. My parents spent their lives as watchers with nothing to show for it but a booze problem and an inferiority complex. I didn't want to be that. It was my number one fear. Even today..." he trailed off, as if he was lost in thought, "Anyways, Bryan's crowd practised magic. Small stuff. Stuff that Quinn Fabray could probably do in her sleep. But Bryan discovered something bigger."

"Eyghon?" asked Buffy, her attention rapt as she sat on Will's couch and listened. She didn't know very much about his past, she realized. And virtually nothing about his family.

"Yes," he finally replied, "One of us would go into a deep sleep and the others would summon him. It was a high to us. It was... extraordinary. But we were idiots."

"You couldn't control it."

"One of us - Randall - he lost control. Eyghon took him whole. We tried to exorcise the demon from Randall... but it killed him. No... we killed him."

Buffy turned away, holding her hand to her head and breathing heavily.

"We thought we were free of the demon after that. Now he's back. And one by one, he will kill us all."

"Three down, two to go," Buffy repeated the words that had come out of Ms. Pillsbury's possessed mouth, "Then it's going after Bryan. I better beat it there."

Buffy stood up with heavy shoulders, reluctant.

"_We'd _ better," Will corrected, standing up and wobbling slightly.

"No, _I'd _better. Will, you're barely mobile and speed is of the serious essence here."

Will sat back down without much of a fight, his whole body slumping in weak remorse.

"I don't know how to stop it without killing Emma," he said, his voice breaking.

Buffy frowned, unsure of what to say. "I've got the guys working on it. I'll, um, try to contain it until we figure something."

"Buffy... I'm sorry."

Buffy blinked and avoided his watery eyes. "I know."

…

"Bryan?"

Buffy crossed town and walked into the barren, empty building that used to be Bryan Ryan's Halloween costume shop. She'd almost gotten her and her friends killed after being cursed by an enchanted princess gown. She still remembers being Duchess Buffy all too vividly. Sam had been her prince, she thought, almost guilty. But now was no time to think of her would-be high school sweetheart. She had business to attend to.

"Bryan," she called again, sure he was hiding somewhere, "Will told me everything... Look, it's coming for you."

She gasped a little as he stepped out of the shadows. "And you came to protect me?" he smirked, "I'm touched."

"Don't worry, it's nothing personal. To protect Will, I have to protect you," she folded her arms.

"How does Billy the Kid inspire such goodness?" Bryan asked himself.

Buffy shrugged. "Cause he's Will."

"And I'm not. Still... lucky me."

"Mm. Lucky you."

Bryan rolled up his sleeve, showing off a black tattoo on his bicep. The Mark of Eyghon.

"Well, we can't run," he said, "Eyghon will find us. This tattoo is like a tracking device."

"It's okay. I'm not much into running."

"Aren't we manly?"

"One of us needs to be. You're gonna hide til its over."

"Excellent plan! Not only is Eyghon on my ass, but Terri Delmonico won't let go of the bone, if you know what I mean?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "I'm actually really glad I don't. Is there a door through the back of the shop?"

"Yeah, it's locked. I think it's solid."

"We'll set up there. Let's go."

Bryan waved a hand towards the back of the shop. "Ladies first."

Buffy walked forward too soon and was somehow not surprised when she felt the sudden, jolting sting of a bat on the back of her head. She slumped to the floor immediately. The next thing she knew, she heard a voice saying, "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," as she lay flat on a cold surface, the back of her head throbbing as she tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes. She found herself unable to move on some sort of table as watched Bryan approach with a silver tray.

"Okay, I lied," he said, "There is no eggs and bakey, but I still want you awake. You're gonna miss all the fun."

"What fun?" she groaned.

"Your initiation."

"You know what? I'm not real interested in joining your club."

"Too late. I already voted you in," said Bryan, setting little bottles and sachets up on his tray, "You know, I hope you're not taking this personally, Buffy, I actually kind of like you. It's just that I like myself a lot more. If you think of it, karmically, this is actually really big for your soul, you know?"

Buffy felt her arms tied around the table she was lying on, the tough rope in tight knots. She struggled against, breaking fraying strands but making no big change.

"Taking my place with the demon. Giving so that others may live," Bryan continued.

Buffy slumped on the table. "I'm gonna kill you. Will that blow the whole karma thing?"

"You're quite the charmer, Buffy," he said, and picked up a petri dish of something that looked like black paint, "Now, this may sting just a little bit, but don't worry. That'll go in once the searing pain kicks in. You can go ahead and scream if you want."

…

"We need to figure out how to kill this thing and we need to do it fast," said Sam. He hated the fact that he and the others were hunched over books and files and web pages in the school's choir room while Buffy was out doing... Whatever Buffy has to do.

"Hot lava," suggested Mike.

"That's for a heretic," Tina said impatiently as she sifted through websites on her laptop.

"Yeah, okay," said Mike, looking further down a textbook, "Ooh, bury a potato... No, that's for warts. Who writes this stuff?"

"Oh, there's this," said Rachel, holding up a book on the occult, "To kill a demon... cut off its head."

"Right," said Sam, "We'll find Ms. Pillsbury and then we'll decapitate her. She'll be the first school guidance counselor without a head. Do you think anybody will notice?"

Rachel frowned. "I was just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, you're not," said Sam, frustrated, "You're all just bouncing off these useless theories and ideas when Buffy's out there, probably putting her life on the line."

"Hey, at least we're doing something," said Mike.

"Yeah!" said Rachel, pointing at Mike to indicate her vehement agreement, "What are you doing Sam? Nothing but sitting and moping and being frustrated that Buffy won't be your girlfriend!"  
>Sam got red in the face. "This is not about that, a- and she never said no!"<p>

"She never said yes, either," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Hey!" Tina yelled, surprising even herself, "We don't have time for this! Our friends are in trouble. Now we have to put our heads together and get them out of it, and if you guys aren't with me a hundred and ten percent, then get the Hell out of my library!"

Rachel and Sam folded their arms sheepishly.

"Sorry, Tina," Sam said earnestly.

"We'll be good," Rachel nodded like a toddler.

Tina sighed and smoothed down her dress. "Okay... Now, we've done the research. We just have to figure out how to use it."

"What if we find another dead body for the demon to jump into?" asked Mike.

"Right," Rachel nodded, "At the cemetery."

"Well, that won't kill the demon, it'll only change the scenery... Oh. Oh, I've got it! Ah ha!"

…

"I think I missed my calling as an artist," said Bryan, wiping black paint off of his hands with a washcloth.

Buffy sat limply on the table in the back of Bryan's abandoned costume shop, the Mark of Eyghon painted on the back of her neck and surrounded by sore, pink skin.

"Bryan, listen to me," she said, starting to sound desperate, "This is a bad idea. You're dealing with something very dangerous."

"Ah, but I will get Eyghon off my scent," he said, and picked up a large clear bottle that was half filled with yellow liquid, "Relax," he said as Buffy struggled against the table, "This is for me."

To Buffy's horror, he spilled drops upon drops of the acidic yellow fluid onto his bicep and over the Mark of Eyghon. He winced and gave traitorous whimpers of pain as he poured it onto himself. It fizzled on his skin and made an audible bubbling noise as he clenched his jaw. He set the bottle down and winced as he wrapped a bandage around his bicep.

"Well," he said, his voice strained and betraying his pain, "I hate to mutilate and run, but-"

Before Bryan could finish, both his and Buffy's eyes snapped to the back door, where they could see a faint glowing green light behind it and the silhouette of... something. As the silhouette drew closer and got smaller against the light, Buffy could tell who it was. She held her breath in her throat as she struggled violently against the ropes that tied her to the table. Bryan didn't notice. He was enthralled by the light and the ominous silhouette. The door opened, and Ms. Pillsbury - what used to be Ms. Pillsbury - walked in. Although her hair and clothes were the same, her face was distorted. Her eyes were beady and black and her mouth was pulled into a snarling, toothy snout. She had a complexion like a toad and her body was bordering on skeletal, with broad shoulders bent back. She had stony horns on her forehead, and she said with a low, inhuman voice, "It's your time."

Buffy shook uncontrollably as she tried to pull the rope apart and Eyghon walked forward, near enough to Bryan to feel his shaky breath. Without warning, Eyghon pushed him out of the way and set her slightly glowing eyes on Buffy. Buffy suddenly and forcefully broke the rope apart and leapt off of the table, as Eyghon lunged for her.

"Eyghon!"

Both Buffy and Eyghon whipped around to Will leaping into the back room of the shop, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"Take me," he said, "Buffy, get out of here."

"No!" Buffy yelled and ran forward, but Eyghon pushed her aside with some invisible force.

Eyghon threw Will down to the ground and stood over him, cocking its head with its blank stare.

"I've been waiting a long time to get to do this," it said.

Will looked up at the demon stuck inside of Emma, when the back door burst open once again and a boy - no, a man - bounded in and tore Eyghon off of Will, gripping his hands around its neck. Will rolled over and watched, his jaw dropping. He didn't recognise this man at all. He was tall, with dark, spiked hair and a black blazer draped over his broad shoulders. As the mysterious man strangled Eyghon, Will leapt up, and to his surprise, Tina, Sam, Rachel and Mike came rushing up to the shop.

"He's killing her," Will cried.

"Wait!" said Tina, pulling Will back.

As the man squeezed relentlessly at Eyghon's neck, it suddenly convulsed. Pushed back by some unseen hand, the man slumped against the wall and Eyghon fell to the floor, and it was suddenly Emma again. She gasped, as if coming up for air in a swimming pool, and shivered against the floor boards.

"Emma!" breathed Will, and fell toward her, caressing her hair out of her face.

She didn't acknowledge him, but stared in horror at the mysterious man against the wall who was convulsing uncontrollably. Deadly blue horns appeared on his head and disappeared not a moment later. The demon was thrashing around inside of him, fading away and resurfacing every few seconds as the man seized. Buffy stood by her friends and watched in terror. There was nothing much she could do but watch even though her every instinct wanted her to save this man. Suddenly, it was like something burst behind the man's eyes and he gasped, and fell forward onto the floor. Buffy rushed toward him, as did her friends, and knelt to see if the stranger was okay. He looked up, startled, but seemingly okay. Will was unfazed by the man as all of his attention was on Emma.

"Emma," he said once again, with his arm around her shoulders.

"Will..." she sighed.

"Who are you?"Buffy demanded.

She was surprised to see that the stranger - the handsome stranger - simply chuckled. "Your welcome," he said sarcastically.

"Right... Thank you," Buffy said, scrutinizing his face, "What did you do?"

"I got rid of it," he said cryptically, "If it's okay, I'll be on my way."

"Wait, no way!" Buffy rose her hands, "We have no idea who you are or what you just did or how you even knew where we were? Do you guys know him?"

Tina shook her head, her eyebrows knitted together. She was telling the truth, Buffy noted, although she looked like she had a theory.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked once again.

The stranger shook dust off of his blazer. "Ask Santana," he said, and walked away, right out of the store.

"What the-" Buffy started.

"I think that Bryan guy got away," said Mike, looking around at the shop.

"Darn," Buffy groaned, "I really wanted to hit him until he bled."

"Well, at least it's over," Rachel sighed.

Buffy turned her head to see Will's arms wrapped around Emma as he led her out of the shop.

…

Santana left Willly's demon bar and stepped out into the twilight, reeking of blood martinis and complimentary olives. She felt a little buzzed, but not enough to stop her anxiously over-analyzing things. Earlier that night, the nerd squad had shown up at her doorstep. Girl Asian, Boy Asian, Ken Doll and Streisand.

"Quinn's not here," she greeted them as she swung the front door open, "She's out doing... I don't know what she's doing. She's out."

Quinn hadn't exactly been vocal about the extra curricular activities that kept her so busy these days, but Santana had a theory that she'd gotten herself a new boyfriend.

"We're not looking for Quinn," Mulan had said, "We're looking for you."

Santana frowned. Usually when they sought her out, it was to ask her to help with yet another Hellmouth related debacle, because the day the Nude Erections ever gave her a social call would be the day that Sofia stopped watching telenovelas.

"Where's Buffy and who's trying to kill her?" she asked them.

"It's some sort of demon," Tina urgently, "It possessed Ms. Pillsbury. We need you to come with us... So we can get it to possess you."

Santana blinked at the girl. "Um, what?"

"The demon can only possess a person when they're currently unconscious or dead, and since you're technically dead..."

"Then clearly that means I'm up for sacrifice."

"Tina has a theory that you won't be affected," said Rachel, "She thinks that when the demon possesses you it will be... What was it?"

"Overridden," said Tina, "Was how I put it. Like it'll be canceled out by the demon you've already got in you."

"So now I'm a demon?" Santana raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Santana, we're not trying to offend you," the Ken Doll, who Santana has met, like, once, said forwardly, "We just think you're our best bet. Please. Buffy's in trouble. So is Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury. We don't know where else to go."

Santana sighed. The kid sure had a way of making a lady feel important. She told them to go ahead and she would meet them there. She slipped on her jacket and told Sofia she'd be going out with some friends, and she was gone. She headed down the dark suburban streets, on her way to Bryan's abandoned costume shop, where the Famous Five said they'd be. She bumped into a familiar face along the way.

"Sorry," she grinned, "I don't have the time tonight to decipher cryptic signals. I have to help save my friends. Or my friend... Or, whatever. The slayer."

"I know," said Angel, his face stony and serious.

"Oh, yeah?"

"The Mark of Eyghon. Remember?"

"Oh, that's what you were talking about? Dude, you need to work on being less vague about stuff that turns out to be this crucial."

"I should have been more specific," he shrugged, "No use crying over spilt milk."

"Or blood."

He nodded slightly. "What are you going to do?"

"The slayer's genius friend has this theory that letting the demon possess me will make it spaz out and die. Something to do with my being... you know... You do know, don't you?"

Angel smirked. "A vampire. I know. Listen... Let me go instead."

Santana raised her eyebrows. "I don't think you get it. It needs to be me. Or someone like me."

Angel grinned wider. "I am. Someone like you."

It took Santana a moment to wrap her head around it. "And by that you mean-"

"Let me take care of it, Santana. We'll talk later."

So with that, Angel disappeared into the shadows once more in that ominous way he does and left her gobsmacked. Of course, where had she gone to waste away the night until she got to see him again? Willy's. Blood martinis, here I come.

She walked back out and wandered around in the frosty night breeze, waiting for Angel to find her. Eventually, he did, stepping out of the shadows in the South Lima Park.

"How did it go?" asked Santana.

"As expected," he said, that slight twinkle of a smirk in his eyes, "The demon is dead."

"And Buffy and her friends-"

"Are fine, as far as I can tell. You might be hearing from her later."

"About what?"

"Naturally, she wanted to know who I was. I told her to ask you."

"How am I supposed to tell her who you are when I don't even know who you are? Although I'm beginning to form a theory."

Angel sighed. "I'd imagine."

"You're a vampire. Aren't you?... Are you?"

Angel nodded, frowning. "I am."

"So... So what is this? Some sort of rogue vampire stalker thing?"

"I'm like you, Santana."

"Yeah, I got that."

"I don't think you do. I'm like you in more than just the fact that I am a vampire."

Santana blinked, feeling stupid for not guessing sooner. "You have a soul."

Angel nodded once. "It's my curse."

"Mine, too," said Santana, "Kind of."

"Let me walk you home," he said, suddenly.

Santana had to smirk. "What, Elvira can't take care of herself now?"

Angel smirked at her joke and they silently began walking side by side, getting nearer and nearer to Lima Heights.

"So what did you think of the slayer?"

Angel was silent for a long moment, thinking about how to put his impression of the slayer into words. The truth was, when he saw her, he'd been overwhelmed, but he didn't know how to say without sounding... well, stupid.

"I was... impressed."

"Oh, yeah? By?"

Angel shook his head, looking for a word, or a sentence. He hadn't seen the slayer fight. He hadn't seen her study. The truth was, Bryan's costume shop wasn't the first place he'd ever seen this slayer, but he wouldn't get into that now.

"Her being."

"Her what?"

"Her essence."

Santana just stared at him as they walked.

"I don't know how to describe it," Angel bristled, "I was surprised. She struck me, somehow."

"She is pretty," Santana shrugged.

"I don't think that's it," Angel shook his head as they walked slowly, illuminated only by moonlight, "It's difficult to articulate."

Santana nodded. "Sounds like me and Brittany," she said thoughtfully.

"Brittany?"

"My friend," said Santana, although the word friend all on it's own didn't sound right when applied to Brittany, "My best friend. My... I love her. Like, I really love her."

"Oh," said Angel, sounding vaguely surprised, "How did you feel when you first saw Brittany?"

Santana looked up, trying to think back to the day she met Brittany. "I don't remember. It was so long ago... Warm? Probably. Safe. It's how I feel everytime I'm with her. Like I'm home."

Angel smiled to himself. "You and Brittany grew up together?"

"Since we were eight years old," Santana smiled to herself, "I miss her. She still lives in Lima, but it's just hard to see her after becoming... you know. The V word."

They stopped talking a moment as they reached Santana's house. Santana looked up at the big two-story masterpiece and wished for a little more time to stay out here and talk to Angel. She hadn't talked so candidly with another person in so long. She felt an inexplicable comfort with him.

"I think I should leave town," he said, avoiding her eyes as he stared at her house.

"What?" Santana exclaimed, "But... For how long?"

"Forever."

"What? You can't," Santana frowned, angry, "Why would you do that? We were just starting to get to know each other. Like, really know each other and not ominously pass each other every now and again. I told you about Brittany, willingly. I hate talking to people about Brittany."

"I don't think it would be a good idea for us to be friends," said Angel, "When I heard there was someone else like me out there I had to meet that person. I thought I would be helping myself and helping you, too. Giving you someone to connect with. A partner. But you don't need me."

"Of course I do," Santana shook her head, "There isn't exactly a 'vampires with souls' support group in my local community centre. You're the only one who can even begin to understand."

"I'm sure that's true, but... It might not be enough. Our experiences with this way of life, Santana, are very different. You have a home with a family inside of it-"

"It's not exactly a family."

"It's more a family than what I have, which is nothing. Santana, you're so young."

Santana scoffed. "I know I'm physically sixteen, but I'm actually seventeen, thank you very much."

Angel smirked derisively. "I'm physically twenty-six," he said, "And actually two hundred and eighty-five years old."

The number took Santana's breath away. "Two..." she began to say, and trailed off, "You just blew my mind."

Angel nodded. "Yes, well-"

"I mean, I knew you had to be older than me, but not that much older! You're like two hundred a-and...and sixty-"

"I'm two hundred and sixty eight years older than you."

"Right. Right, I'm not that good at math," she shook her head, "Well, dios mio, I was not expecting that. That explains why you're so vague and chivalrous."

"I should leave-"

"Wait!" Santana gathered herself and focused, "You can't leave just because you're way, _way _older than me, okay? I can get used to it."

Angel looked pained. "Santana... The things I've done, you wouldn't believe. The past I left behind me-"

"So I have a past, too. I was a total bitch cheerleader-"

"Santana-"

"I slept with my friend's boyfriend! Well, she's not my friend, but still. I don't even like dudes. I just needed to take my mind off..."

"Santana, people make mistakes. It doesn't compare to what-"

"I killed a boy. The first night, before I got my soul. He's dead. He used to be just some poor misguided little pervert and now he's dead because of me."

Angel looked sympathetic. "I was the scourge of Europe for over a hundred years. It wasn't until 1898 that I got a soul. I did a lot of horrific things, Santana. In fact, I was known for it. I was more evil than you could ever imagine. Nothing you can say about yourself could ever compare..."

Santana frowned, feeling desperate as Angel looked like he was about to get choked up. "So think of this as your repentance," she smiled hopefully, "To make up for your major scourging, take in a troubled teen. Like a Big Brother program. Or like a Great Great Great Great Grandfather program."

Angel let out a reluctant chuckle. "Well... We were just getting to know each other."

Santana nodded. "Yeah, we were."


	42. The Healthy Relationships

Finn heard the door open and shut behind him in the back room of the church as he looked into a floor length mirror and struggled to assemble his necktie. With a chorus of murmurs outside in the main hall, he didn't expect to be alone for long. He blinked at the mirror's reflection as Buffy approached behind him. Her blond hair was smooth and glossy in her youthful updo and she was tucked into the same wine red bridesmaids dress that the rest of his and Kurt's female friends from glee club were wearing. Finn had to admit that she was pretty - smokin' hot, actually - but she still kind of freaked him out. Finn found Buffy scarier than Rachel, probably because he knew what she could do. She's been fighting vampires since the age of fifteen, finding herself in situations that Finn only ever had to experience in video games. It was for that same reason he respected her so much.

"I never learned how to tie a tie," Finn chuckled awkwardly.

Buffy smirked. Just like him, Buffy didn't have a dad around. Except in Buffy's case, she grew up with her dad and had him leave. Finn never knew his dad. He wasn't sure which one of them had it worse, but at least Buffy's dad was alive. She tentatively took his tie from him, reached over his shoulders and wrapped it around his collar.

"Excited about your new stepfamily?" she asked, concentrating mostly on his tie.

"I guess so," Finn shrugged, his breaths unsteady, "I mean, it feels a little soon."

Buffy sighed sympathetically. "I can only imagine."

"What?" Finn asked, curiously, as she finished with his tie.

"It's just me and my mom. Us against the world," she rolled her eyes, smirking to herself, "I'll bet that's how it was for you."

Finn grinned nostalgically. "Yeah, it was."

"Well, I can't imagine what it would be like if suddenly I had a new dad and a new brother in the house," Buffy shook her head, "Sure, I'd be happy for my mom. Happy that she's happy. But it'd be hard for me to make room. To know that she doesn't need me as much as she used to."

Finn nodded, looking at Buffy - really looking at her - for what felt like the first time.

"Yeah, exactly..." Finn nodded in agreement.

"So, maybe that's why you've been pulling away from Rachel lately."

Finn furrowed his brow and frowned. "So that's... Did Rachel send you here? To talk to me and find out why I've been, what, ignoring her? I'm not ignoring her, I just-"

"No, Finn, Rachel didn't say anything. I noticed on my own."

Finn turned away and grimaced. He knew Buffy or Tina might figure it out. Buffy and Tina were smart. Rachel was smart, too, but she usually heard what she wanted to hear. Buffy and Tina might hear something about what happened at Santana's Halloween party... Then again, him cheating on Rachel wasn't the most interesting thing that happened that night, so he'd hoped that it would go buried and unheard of. Swept under the rug.

"I know it doesn't seem like I would," said Buffy, "But between slaying and school and cheerleading, I do notice my friends and I notice that she's been trying to get your attention a lot lately, and you're... absent."

Absent was a good way to put it. Finn had been avoiding Rachel like she was the plague and only because whenever he saw her, he heard Santana's forced moans and the feel of her body writhing underneath his in his mind, and he felt as if he had to staple his mouth shut before he sold himself out.

"Yeah, it's just... this wedding," Finn shrugged sheepishly, "I guess I've been so preoccupied with all the new changes, I just haven't been thinking of Rachel enough."

Buffy nodded quietly. "I get it. You're going through some epic change stuff. It's understandable, really. I just want to know that you and Rachel are okay, because she really loves you and I'm sure if you wanted to talk to her about your feelings, she'd love it."

Finn looked back into the mirror. "Thanks, Buffy."

"No problem."

"Hey," said Rachel, walking in the door, her bright eyes darting between her best friend and her boyfriend, "What are you guys doing?"

"Talking about you," said Buffy, "What else?"

Rachel smiled and bashfully rolled her eyes. "I do have that je ne sais quoi that makes people talk," she shrugged.

"I was just leaving," Buffy smiled meaningfully at Finn, and passed Rachel as she left the room.

Finn looked at Rachel, his lips pulled into a stiff line. She looked beautiful in her bridesmaids dress, a glow to her dewy skin and her rich brown hair styled to perfection. Yet, he couldn't feel anything good as he looked at her, but could only see Santana's euphoric face only Halloween night... and, of course, the disgusted face she wore when they were finished. But mainly the euphoric one.

"Aren't you gonna tell me how pretty I look?" she smiled, curtseying in her dress.

Finn stepped right up to her, with a solemn look on his face. "You look amazing," he said, his glassy eyes focused on the orange flower pinned to her hair.

"What?" asked Rachel, looking uncomfortable as her gold necklace saying '_Finn_' gleamed against her collarbones.

"I... I just really love you," he said, quietly. He was afraid he'd get choked up by his own guilt and give himself away, but the display of emotion had Rachel looking awed and dramatic.

"I love you, too," she said wholeheartedly.

The wedding was sweet. Buffy thought so, anyways. She thought maybe the JK Wedding Dance-style performance that she and her fellow New Directions did may have been a little cheesy, but the good kind of cheesy. Burt and Carole had been so happy and Finn had serenaded his new stepbrother at the reception. Mr. Schuester had even had a good time singing Sway. It took his mind off Ms. Pillsbury, anyways. And Sam... He'd been sitting there in his tuxedo, looking monumentally handsome, peeking at Buffy when she wasn't peeking at him. She bit her lip as she looked at him, her stomach churning. What was she so afraid of? Sam was safe. Sam was normal. For a girl who spent the past few years claiming to want nothing more than to be normal, she sure was starting to feel like a hypocrite. Sam was her chance at normal. Her one chance. She might as well take it.

She took a seat beside him at one of the round tables in the reception as a couple older guests started assembling a conga line.

"That shiner doesn't look too good," she leaned over and said to him over the music.

He smiled slightly, not really hearing her but looking at her lips. "You look beautiful," he said with his regular gentlemanly manner.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you did for Kurt," said Buffy, "It made a real impact."

"I think the impact that it made was Karofsky's fist impacting my face," he joked lightheartedly.

Buffy smirked. "You're special, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "Not really. Not here."

"You are, Sam. Yeah, I'm the chosen one, and Quinn's a witch and Tina's a genius and Rachel... well, she's Rachel, she invented the word 'special'. But Sam... You're good. Completely, purely good. That's not easy to find these days," Buffy sighed, "I've been talking this whole time and you haven't even noticed that I'm wearing your ring."

Sam's eyes darted to the white gold promise ring on her finger. "How'd you get that?" he smiled giddily.

"I broke into your locker," Buffy shrugged nonchalantly, unable to suppress a smile, "There are no limits to what you can do with a nail file."

Sam smiled widely, looking as if he wanted to throw a Judd Nelson style fist in the air. Instead, he leaned in and kissed his chosen one.

…

"Come on, guys," Will clapped his hands the next day, talking to a dozen of his glee clubbers as they goofed around in the choir room, "The wedding was great, but we have got to get ready for Sectionals."

Maybe he was a little bit of a downer. All of the kids seemed to be in good spirits today. Buffy had excitedly told him that she was now officially Sam's girlfriend. Officially a girl friend of someone, and not a friend who's a girl, is how she put it. He should be more happy for her, but he couldn't stop thinking about what they have to do in terms of training and what to sing at Sectionals and whether Emma would ever stop avoiding him... Again...

Will's attention snapped to the door as Kurt entered, late and looking a little distracted in a paisley shirt, with a maroon cardigan thrown over his shoulders.

"Kurt," he said, turning to the boy, "Good, you're here. I have this amazing idea for a solo for you at Sectionals-"

"Can I make an announcement first?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Yeah," Will shrugged.

Kurt turned to his classmates who looked up at him with contented smiles and mild interest.

"First, I wanted to thank everyone for what you did at my dad's wedding," Kurt smiled, "Especially Finn. It's nice to know that I have great friends here, as well as a true brother... which is why it's so hard for me to leave..."

The class fell silent.

"What do you mean, leave?" frowned Buffy.

"I'm transferring. To Dalton Academy," said Kurt, his eyes red as if he'd already been crying, "Immediately. My parents are using the money they saved up for their honeymoon to pay for the tuition."

"Kurt, you can't leave," Tina shook her head at him.

"What the Hell, dude? How 'bout you talk with me about this first?" Finn said, standing up and looking more offended than anything.

"I'm sorry, Finn, but there's nothing to talk about," Kurt said, his voice wavering a little as he thought about Karofsky meaty fist against his chest and his forceful lips against his own.

"We can protect you," Sam said, determinedly.

"Seriously, we can form a perimeter around you like the secret service," said Puck.

"The only thing that can really protect me is what they have at Dalton," said Kurt, "A zero tolerance no bullying policy. It's enforced."

"Does this mean you're gonna be competing against us at Sectionals?" asked Rachel.

The others ignored her.

"Kurt," Mercedes said softly, standing up.

She didn't have to say anything for Kurt's eyes to well up with tears.

"Sorry," he said lamely, "I have to go."

…

Quinn had left McKinley High in the afternoon and booked it all the way to Dudley Road, still in her Cheerios uniform with her blond hair tied up in an excruciatingly tight ponytail.

"Well, look at you," Jesse smiled coyly as he opened the door to his parents' lavish house, "It's almost shocking how much things have changed since we were friends. The first time."

"We aren't friends now, if that's what you think," Quinn said snidely, only half joking, "I just came from school."

"Well, come on in," he said, opening the door to his front foyer.

Quinn walked in, her backpack slung around her shoulder. The St. James house looked exactly like the dream house Quinn had always wished for as a little girl. A white colonial with big, Greek columns and a tiled front foyer with a grand, sweeping staircase and a chandelier. Looking up at it now, Quinn realized that Mrs. St. James had added a mural of a dozen flying cherubs on the ceiling. It was a bit much for Quinn's taste, but she knew it was something her own mother would love.

Quinn had one question on her mind that she so badly wanted to ask Jesse. This weekend had been his trip to Cleveland to visit Shelby and Beth, and Quinn wanted to know what had happened. How was Beth? What did she look like? _Does she look like me? _But Quinn had learned by now that the only way to get anything from Jesse was to follow his lead and play into his hand. If he wanted to do this coy, casual dance while he served her coffee and made small talk, so be it. She'd get what she wanted from him at the end of the day.

"My mother is here," said Jesse, taking Quinn's backpack away from her without asking and leaving it in the coat closet under his staircase, "She won't recognise you."

"Your mom is here?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

She hadn't really been a regular visitor of the St. James' household since before the sixth grade, and while her twelve-year-old memory of Jesse's mom was fuzzy, one thing was for certain: the lady was a bitch.

"Come," Jesse said, and Quinn followed him through his halls lined with photos of luxurious family vacations and competitions won by Jesse and his siblings, until they reached their kitchen where Eleanor Lexington-St. James stood at the island counter and talked aggressively into a Bluetooth headset.

She looked almost exactly like her son. The locks of wispy dark hair and the steely blue eyes. Only Eleanor's hair had a silvery streak running through it. A proud testament of her age. She didn't so much as glance at them as they entered, and Jesse led Quinn to the breakfast nook without a word, two espressos waiting for them on the table.

"Pretend she's not here," he said as he slipped into a seat, "She'll do the same."

"Does she remember me?"

Jesse shrugged and took a sip of his hot coffee. "She probably remembers you when you were Lucy. She wouldn't recognise you now."

That was likely. The last time Quinn had seen Jesse's mother, she'd been seventy pounds heavier and 99% nose.

"So..." said Quinn, not sure if she should jump right to it.

"Jesse!" Eleanor called enthusiastically, making Quinn jump a little.

"Yes, Mother?" Jesse asked irately, setting his coffee back down.

Eleanor walked over to them, smoothing down her black Karl Lagerfeld business dress, keeping her light and piercing eyes on Quinn.

"Don't be rude. Introduce me to your friend," she said.

"Mother, this is Quinn Fabray," said Jesse, "Quinn, you remember my mother?"

"Fabray?" Eleanor raised her eyebrow, "You must be a relative of the family down the road."

Quinn hesitated, and then said, "Distant cousin. By marriage. I just transferred to McKinley High."

"Ah," Eleanor nodded with a penetrating stare, "How do you know Jesse?"

"Lucy introduced us," Quinn smiled falsely as Jesse smirked to himself.

"Lucy Fabray? Jesse, wasn't she a friend of yours back in elementary school?" asked Eleanor, vaguely interested.

Jesse clenched his jaw as if he wanted to say, 'Yes, Mother, my best and only friend throughout childhood, but I wouldn't expect you to remember that'.

"Yes, Mother," he replied.

"Whatever happened to her?"

Jesse raised his eyebrow at Quinn before replying, "We had a falling out, Mother."

"Irreconcilable differences, I think they call it," said Quinn.

"We're cordial now."

"That's one way to put it."

"Well, that's lovely, dear," said Eleanor, now distracted by the Blackberry in her hand, "I've got to run. Rosalie isn't working today but she left a roast in the oven."

Jesse said nothing, but clenched his espresso cup until his knuckles were white as his mother left the room to continue talking into her headset.

"She seems... nicer. Now," said Quinn.

"Don't be fooled," Jesse frowned, "The only reason she isn't being as snide and condescending as she used to be is because she thinks you're my girlfriend."

Quinn frowned. "Why would she think that?"

Jesse shrugged. "I don't have as many beautiful female callers as you would think."

Quinn smirked. "Dry spell for Jesse St. James, huh?"

"No, I just don't tend to introduce women to my mother. She'd scare them away."

"She didn't scare me away," Quinn shrugged.

"She likes you."

"Why would she like me?" Quinn laughed, "She just met me."

"All she needed to see was that you're a beautiful blond cheerleader from a respectable family and with the mental capacity to hold a simple conversation."

"Wow, somehow I thought your mom would have better taste."

"And what kind of girl would you want dating your son?" Jesse asked with a smile.

Quinn looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Someone ambitious. And smart. Someone who would call you out when you're being a douche, but who wouldn't make you feel bad about being you..."

Jesse smiled to himself and took another gleeful sip of his espresso.

"What?" Quinn demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," he said, still smiling widely.

"You introduced Rachel to her," Quinn said abruptly, "I remember her gushing last year about dinner with her 'future in-laws'."

Jesse made a face, halfway between a smirk and a grimace. "Let's not talk about Rachel Berry, please."

"Why did you egg her?" asked Quinn, ignoring him.

Jesse frowned, seriously. "I thought you didn't care about her. She's just another simpleton to you."

"I never said that. I mean, I _don't _care about her, but I never said she was a... simpleton. Did your mother like her?"

Jesse laughed at her, almost throwing his head back dramatically. "Why is my relations with Rachel Berry so important to you?"

Quinn shrugged. "It's not."

"Good. Now come off it. How was school today?"

Quinn sighed. This was Jesse's ritual, asking her monotonous questions that drove her crazy before they ever got to the point.

"Not terrific," Quinn shrugged, "One of our classmates decided to transfer to Dalton Academy. I mean, it was a good decision for him to make because he was getting bullied, but still. Everyone in glee club is pretty bummed."

To her surprise, Jesse laughed.

"What?" Quinn clenched her jaw.

"I have to admit that it's funny," said Jesse, "Everytime I see how much you've changed from the person you used to be. You never would have cared before about your classmates. You called them trite and frivolous. You were above them."

"Well, guess what, Jesse? I was a little kid who said all that stuff because I didn't fit in. I complained about people because they didn't want to be my friend. But I have friends now."

Jesse shook his head. "No, you don't. Not one of your friends really know - _really _know - what you are. You're dark and powerful, and at least back when you were Lucy, you knew you were meant for something greater. That's what I loved about you, Quinn."

Quinn sighed and looked out the window, staring at the pruned hedges in Jesse's backyard. "I was a miserable little girl," she said simply.

"Now you're a miserable woman."

Quinn winced, mostly because it was true. "I'll be happy when I have Beth. The only time I was happy was when I had Beth and that was just a moment."

"You think that'll really make you happy? Being a mom? Look at mine. Look at yours. Look at Shelby, for Christ' sake. The only reason she even has Beth is because Rachel wasn't good enough."

Quinn grimaced. "Why are you trying to discourage me all of a sudden? I thought this was what you wanted. To have Shelby to yourself. If you're not going to help me get Beth back, why am I even here?"

Jesse frowned, and stared into his espresso for what felt like a long time. "If you want Beth back, you have to work with me."

"I am-!"

"On your magic, Quinn. You have to be powerful. The only thing that's going to stop Shelby is magic. Fight fire with fire."

Quinn blinked. "You don't mean..."

"We're not going to _kill _Shelby!" Jesse spluttered, "God, Quinn, morbid much?"

Quinn smirked. "So I'm going to... use mind control?"

"You've done it before, haven't you?"

"On normals. On people who barely use the God given brain power they already had. Not on a witch, an older witch, someone who's clearly more powerful than me! How am I supposed to mentally overpower Shelby?"

Jesse sighed. "That's what we have to work on. Let me train you. Let me teach you what Shelby taught me."

"Why don't you just do it?"

Jesse frowned. "She'd see that coming a mile away. Quinn, she doesn't even know what you look like."

Quinn looked back out at the hedges. "I don't like that."

"Using magic for personal gain? No, that's not something you would ever stoop to."

Quinn glared at him. "I only used mind control to find out where Beth was. And yeah, okay, I've used magic on my body. But I never used magic to take anything I didn't deserve. I got on the Cheerios because I was athletic and get good grades because I worked hard and I'm smart and-"

"And you're fooling yourself if you think your pretty looks haven't gotten you your social status."

Quinn frowned at his smug smile. "My old social status. My new one still has the teen mom stigma tied to it, so people could really care less how pretty and blond I am."

"Why do it, then?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't want to go back to being Lucy," she said, too quietly, "I like who I am now."

Jesse didn't look like he believed her. "Why?" he asked simply.

"It's not like I can't be better, I just... I like not being mousy and miserable and quiet. I know why you want me to be Lucy."

"Oh?" Jesse humored her.

"Yeah. You want me to be as weak as I used to be."

"You were never weak-"

"I was. Maybe not magically, but emotionally. You could manipulate me to do whatever you wanted when we were kids. I knew, and I let you, because..."

Jesse leaned forward. "Because?"

Quinn frowned back at him, her shoulders tense and she could feel her face getting hot.

"This was a mistake," she said, standing up and smoothing down her Cheerios skirt.

"Quinn," Jesse sighed condescendingly, "Come on."

"No. This is so stupid. We can't work together. It's physically impossible for us to get along anymore," Quinn shook her head, "I should have known when I was kid that you were no good."

Jesse stood up and followed her as she stormed down the hallway and towards the foyer. "You're overreacting," he said simply, "I thought you wanted Beth."

"I'll do it on my own."

Jesse stood there awkwardly and grimaced as she went looking for her backpack in the closet. "Quinn, please. I know we left things bad but I really... We can do this. I can behave and I can train you and you can get Shelby to give you your baby back. Please."

Quinn stared at him as she slipped her backpack over her shoulder, stunned by how genuine he sounded. No patronising smirk or acting as if he was humoring a silly little cheerleader. He looked as if he wanted this to work, he truly did. She wondered if he really could change or if he was just getting better at acting.

"Fine," she said weakly, sounding to herself as if she had been defeated.

xxx

"Do you think Kurt will ever come back?" asked Rachel.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders as the girls shared a spot under a giant oak tree that swayed peacefully in the middle of the Lima cemetery. They were wrapped up in scarves and pea coats, because Lima in mid-Autumn was chilly at night, to say the least.

"Maybe for our senior year," said Buffy, "Hopefully. Honestly, though, as long as Karofsky is still roaming the halls, I don't see it happening."

Rachel gave her puppy eyes and frowned melodramatically. "I'm going to miss fighting for solos with him. He was my only competition."

Buffy silently winced at the slight jab to the rest of their glee club members. "It's not like we won't see him. I mean, he lives with your boyfriend, so I see sleepovers abound in your future."

Rachel smiled warmly to herself. "That's true. Ooh, Buffy, I meant to ask you! Now that you and Sam are officially the second cutest couple in school, I would like to invite the two of you to a double date with me and Finn."

Buffy made a face. "Is that a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Rachel pouted.

"I feel like group outings always end in disaster in this town," says Buffy, "Remember the last time I went on a double date with you?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but you were going on a date with _Mike_. Clearly you two didn't have any chemistry."

"Yes," Buffy snorted, "That's the disaster I meant. The lack of chemistry. Not the vampire that almost killed him."

"Regardless, you hadn't even _gone _on the double date then because you'd been bombarded by slayerly duties. Anyways, things were different. Jesse St. James had been my boyfriend."

"Oh, yeah," Buffy frowned, remembering the curly-haired creep, "Isn't he dating Quinn now?"

Rachel frowned and stared out at the rows of gravestones. "I don't really know what's going on regarding Quinn and Jesse."

"It's looks like they're dating to me," Buffy shrugged, "B-But who cares, right? You have Finn and he would never hurt you like Jesse did."

"Right," said Rachel as she leaned her head back against the oak tree, "Of course, it's just... I'm worried Quinn will end up getting hurt."

Buffy nodded. "After everything Quinn's been through, though, I think she can take care of herself."

Rachel nodded until she spotted a figure in the distant graveyard haze. "Who's that?" she whispered, pointing at the dark figure.

"Rachel, don't move," Buffy said in a hushed tone as she stood stealthily, slipping her stake out of the sleeve of her leather jacket.

"You won't be needing that oversized toothpick," Santana said as she came into view, sauntering forward in one of her many skintight dresses.

"Santana," Buffy greeted, pleased to be spared one night of kicking undead ass, "What's up?"

"Buffy, Yentl," Santana nodded to the girls, a smirk on her face, "Nothing. Midnight stroll. Should've stayed home, though, this place is dead. No pun intended."

Rachel stood up and shook the grass off of her thick cable tights. "Hello, Santana," she greeted icily.

"Cheer up, Hobbit," Santana smirked, "They're not taking you to Isengard _yet_."

Rachel smiled humorlessly. "It's nice that you can still have a sense of humor even though you're spending your last years as a young adult wandering graveyards. Don't you have anything better to do?"

Santana laughed to herself. "If you didn't already get the memo, honey, these are _not _my last years as a young adult. And no, I don't have anything better to do because I just love talking to your delightful self!"

"Okay," Buffy sighed, "You guys can take off the gloves. We're friends here."

"I got no problem with that, Slayer," Santana shrugged, grinning, "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Rachel scoffed. "Why are you so happy?"

"I'm not happy," Santana smiled ironically, "Not truly, anyways. Then you'd all get a taste of Evil Santana. I like to call her Snix."

"Yeah, but you are a little more smiley than usual," Buffy agreed with a grin.

"You're seeing someone!" Rachel accused loudly, "Or sleeping with someone. Whatever it is you do. Are you back with Brittany?"

"How do you know about me and Brittany?" Santana shook her head and sighed, "Whatever. No, Brittany and I are not... Brittany and I. I just happen to have a new friend, okay?"

Buffy and Rachel exchanged looks. "It's that guy!" Rachel said, her eyes widening madly, "The handsome stranger!"

Santana raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Oh my God, the guy who saved Ms. Pillsbury from the Eyghon demon!" Buffy realized, "You're dating the handsome stranger!"

"He is not a... handsome stranger," Santana smirked, "His name is Angel and he's... like me."

"Like you?" Rachel raised an eyebrow, "You mean, evil and skanky?"

Santana smirked and gave Rachel the middle finger, to which Rachel gasped at. "No. I mean, a vampire. With a soul."

"Wow," Buffy sighed, "You guys are a dime a dozen these days."

"Not exactly," Santana shrugged, "He lived in LA until he heard about me from an oracle, so he came all the way to Ohio just to meet someone like him."

"He's from LA?" Buffy raised her eyebrow with a lot of interest, "And you guys are good friends now? You talk?"

Santana nodded. "He's pretty cool once you get past the broodiness and the introspection. He's a lot older than... anyone. He's been through some crazy shit."

"He sounds amazing," Buffy nodded.

"Yeah, well, stay away from him, Slayer," Santana pointed her finger at Buffy, "He's not one of your scooby gang pals. He's not here to help you guys save the day."

"You're awfully territorial," pouted Rachel.

"Yeah, well, he's _my _friend, Warwick, so stay away."

"People don't usually get so jealous about their friends," said Rachel, "Are you sure you have purely platonic relationships?"

Santana snickered. "Berry, listen to me loud and clear. I. Am. Gay. As in, all about the vajay. Now, I'm not saying I never get attracted to guys. Sex with guys in fine by me because sex is sex. But if I ever were to..." Santana paused as if the word 'love' were on the tip of her tongue, "Date someone, it would be a chick. So yeah, Angel and I are just friends. Not even friends with benefits, because that would be weird. I mean, he's older than my dad. He's older than everyone's dads."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Not what I meant."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Some girls... When they can't be with the person they really love or when their romantic feelings aren't reciprocated, they turn to a guy friend or a friend who reminds them of what they're missing in a romantic relationship. Like a-"

"Like a substitute?"

"Well, yes."

"You think I'm substituting a real girlfriend for Angel. Because I can't be with Brittany?"

"Well... yes."

Santana raised an eyebrow at Buffy as if asking her to please remove this freakshow. Santana just laughed venomously. "Since when were you some kind of love guru?" she laughed mockingly, "Have you even made it to third base, Berry? Second? First?"

Rachel blushed. "I'm observant and in touch with my feelings, a-and paired with my intuition, I make for a very good judge of relationships-"

"Slayer, shut her up," Santana shook her head.

"It's a perfectly sound theory, Santana!" Rachel persisted, "You fool yourself into thinking that you're actually happy with the relationship you have and-"

"Rachel, stop," Buffy shook her head quietly.

"No, I'm trying to help," Rachel pleaded.

"Like Hell you are," said Santana, half laughing, "You're just trying to condescend people and prove that you're better than everyone because you think you know how I feel better than I do. I mean, what is wrong with you? Why can't you just shut your mouth? You have to blow everything out of proportion until people are _screaming _at you to get you to shut the Hell up! What would you know about me? Or about Angel, or about my relationship with Brittany, for that matter? You don't know _anything_! You don't know anything about love or-"

"How can you say I don't know anything about love?!" Rachel demanded.

At this point, Buffy had thrown up her hands and walked away, waiting by the oak tree, because as much as she wanted to leave right now, she couldn't abandon Rachel in a graveyard at night. Even the vampire with the soul wanted to kill her.

"Because you're an idiot child," Santana sneered.

"Child? I'm just as old as you are, Santana Lopez! And I have experience! _Love _experience! With my boyfriend, who is a good guy and he loves me and I know what a healthy relationship should look like!"

Santana stared back at her, her eyes wide and her face frozen somewhere between childish glee and blind rage.

"Healthy relationship?" It came out as a hoarse whisper. "Well, that's fucking hilarious."

Rachel winced. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, half expecting a joke about Rachel having to use a stepladder to kiss Finn.

Something to do with her being short. Which isn't even fair because she's only one inch shorter than Buffy and two inches shorter than Tina and even Santana isn't that much taller than her. Maybe three inches.

"No, I'm just happy to hear about your healthy healthy relationship with Finnocence," Santana smirked, "How is he, by the way? Tell him I said hi. A-And tell him I said thank you. For Halloween."

Rachel glares at Santana, her eyes darting around with confusion and shock and embarrassment.

"What... What is that supposed to mean?" Rachel asked, too quietly.

"Ask your boyfriend," Santana frowned, "He's such a good guy, he'll tell you the truth."

xxx

**a/n: This chapter was a lot less action and a lot more talking and fighting and oh the emotions, but I hope you all like it and review anyway! :)**


	43. The Good Friend

Even if Buffy hadn't been confronted first thing in the morning when she arrived at school with a big, glaring, glittery 'Career Fair' poster, she still wouldn't have been in a good mood. Last night, she'd walked Rachel home and had to hear her arguing relentlessly with herself about what Santana had said. 'Tell him I said hi. And tell him thank you. For Halloween'.

Rachel had thrown possible accusations back and over aloud, not exactly waiting for Buffy's opinion. And if she had asked for Buffy's opinion, she wouldn't have gotten a lot. What Santana said last night made it sound a lot like Finn had slept with her during the Halloween party, before Bryan Ryan had hexed them all. Buffy didn't want to believe something like that about Finn, but it wasn't sounding good. She knew Rachel knew that, too.

She entered the choir room and took a seat beside Sam, and peered into his hands to see him scribbling into a little piece of paper.

"What's that?" she asked, taking a quick peek at Finn, who was filling out the same sheet. Rachel was nowhere to be found.

"Career aptitude tests," said Mr. Schuester, looking up from Brad's piano to hand Buffy a sheet of paper, "For the Career Fair."

"Are you a people person or do you prefer to keep to yourself?" Mike read aloud from his sheet.

"What if you're a people person but you keep to your own company by default?" Artie looked up and asked Mr. Schuester.

"Um... None of the above?" suggested Will.

"There are no boxes for none of the above," Artie shook his head.

"No, that would introduce too many possibilities into their mushroomhead number crunching world," Puck said, folding his aptitude test into a paper airplane.

"Am I sensing bitterness, Puckerman?" Mike raised an eyebrow.

"I get what he's saying," Finn nodded, "I mean, these people can't tell from one stupid test what we're supposed to do for the rest of our lives."

"Well, I already know what I want to do with my life," nodded Tina, "But I'm still curious to see what the test would say."

"I don't want to suck all the spontaneity out of being young and stupid," said Puck, balancing his pencil on his nose, "I'd rather be clueless."

"You _are _clueless," frowned Mercedes.

"Guys, keep in mind that you aren't going to be young forever," said Mr. Schuester.

"Yeah, but I'll always be stupid," Puck smirked.

"Do I like shrubs?" Sam asked aloud, wrinkling his brow at his test, "What did you put?" he asked Tina.

"I came down on the side of shrubs," Tina told him.

"Okay," Sam nodded, "Go shrubs!"

Buffy just stared down at her test, not knowing her answer for a single question. In the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't even be bothering with this. No matter what career she was suited for, she'd always be destined for one. The one that doesn't pay. Unless Hell freezes over and every vampire in Lima puts in an early retirement, her future was a non-issue.

Everyone looked up suddenly as Rachel stormed into the choir room, looking both determined and upset, her loafers making loud taps on the linoleum tiles.

"Is it true?" she demanded right off the bat, staring daggers at Finn.

"Is what true?" he asked, his hazel eyes wide with guilt and fear.

"What did you do at Halloween?" she demanded.

"What? Halloween? I don't know... Nothing. I was with you."

"And when you weren't? When you weren't with me? Santana says to say thanks! Does that mean anything to you?"

Finn had his mouth hanging open. "Rachel..."

"Finn," she pleaded, her previous fury fading, "Please tell me you didn't do anything."

Finn looked conflicted, his eyes darting between Rachel and Puck. "I-I-"

"Finn!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"

Tears welled up in Rachel's eyes, and she spun back out of the room and ran away.

"Rachel, wait," Finn called, getting out of his seat.

"Finn, don't," said Buffy, putting her hand up to him, "Just stay here. You've done enough."

xxx

"Read it again," Spike demanded.

In Spike's lair, Dalton, some weedy vamp who was known for deciphering encrypted messages, was hunched over an aged book, straightening his glasses and shaking his head.

"I'm not sure," Dalton sighed, "It could be, perfundo... bubulae... linter?"

"Baste..." Spike said, looking through a Latin dictionary, "Beef... Canoe."

Spike clenched his jaw and hit Dalton over the head with the thick dictionary.

"Why does that strike me as not right?" he asked rhetorically.

Dalton huffed and turned back to the book.

"Darling, come dance," Drusilla said softly, turning away from the tarot cards she'd been playing with.

"Give us some peace, would you? Can't you see I'm working?" snapped Spike.

Drusilla frowned and whimpered like a frightened puppy. Spike sighed and his face softened.

"Oh, I'm sorry, kitten," he sighed, "It's just this manuscript. It's supposed to hold your cure but it reads like gibberish. Even Dalton, here, the big brain, he can't make heads or tails of it."

Drusilla clutched her temple. "I need to change Ms. Edith," she said hazily, and doubled over, whimpering.

Spike rushed to her side and put his arms over her, shushing her and holding her steady. He raised her head up to his and said, "Forgive me. You know I can't stand to see you like this, but we're running out of time. It's that bloody slayer. Whenever I turn around, she's muckin' up the works."

"Shh," Drusilla raised a bony, pale finger to her lips, "You'll make it right. I know."

Spike leaned in and kissed her, and rose to stare back at Dalton who'd been busy, hunched over the dusty manuscript.

"Well, come on now," he said to him, "Enlighten me."

"Well," Dalton said nervously, "It looks like Latin, but it's not. I'm not even sure it's a language-"

"Then make it a language!" Spike shouted, alarmingly loud, "Isn't that was a transcriber does?"

"Not exactly-"

Spike gripped a handful of Dalton's lacy shirt and pulled him upward, getting a yelp out of him.

"I want. The cure," he said, slowly.

"He can't help you," Drusilla said dreamily, "Not without the key."

"The key?" Spike raised his scarred right eyebrow, "What key? You mean this book is in some kind of code."

"Yeah," Drusilla smirked, staring at her tarot card, "Now will you dance?"  
>Spike smiled and strode over to Drusilla, taking her hand and lifting her off the ground. "I'll dance with you, pet. On the slayer's grave."<p>

…

When Jesse answered the door, Quinn had expected the same coy smile as always, but today he was frowning, hard lines in his forehead, for whatever reason. Quinn thought maybe he was feeling guilty about their little fight yesterday, but that theory was unlikely. He put her bag and her coat in the coat closet and gestured for her to follow him up the St. James's sweeping staircase and to his room, a place she'd never been, even when they were childhood friends. She was surprised to see how cozy it was. Quinn believed that a person's bedroom said a lot about their personalities. Brittany's was girly and bubbly and warm. Santana's was dark and sexy and edgy. Puck's was always a mess. But Jesse's room seemed to boast a different side of his personality.

He had Broadway musical posters lining the walls and his soft blue bed was unmade. Quinn saw his Mac on his desk, open on some website...

"You read fanfiction?" Quinn smirked.

"No," Jesse frowned, and lunged for the computer.

Quinn got there faster, and peered down at the page open on a fanmade story based on the musical, 'Wicked'.

"Occasionally," Jesse bristled.

"What's 'femslash'?"

"Nothing! Just get off of that!" Jesse grumbled, and swiftly switched off the computer.

Quinn spun around on his swivel chair to face him. "Someone's in a bad mood."

Jesse sighed and took a seat on the edge of his unmade bed. "My dad came back from his business trip last night."

"I thought you liked your dad."

"Sure, when he's praising me for my accomplishments. Unfortunately, as of late, there haven't been many accomplishments to praise. I dropped out of UCLA way too early into the year and now I'm like the black sheep of the family. Especially since Jennifer's almost finished with rehab for her addiction to prescription pills. She always gets the attention."

Quinn tried not to laugh. She knew exactly what it felt like to have an older sister who hogged all of the attention. Of course, Quinn's sister was praised for marrying a God-fearing virgin and Jesse's sister was praised for overcoming bulimia and going a month without overdosing on Ritalin.

"Why did you drop out of UCLA?" asked Quinn, "And don't say that it was to help me."

Jesse smirked. "Honestly? I never wanted to go to UCLA in the first place. Your call for help was just a catalyst to give me the motivation to drop out."

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"That's what my dad kept asking me," Jesse sighed, "He says if I don't get a job or at least have a plan by the end of the year, he's going to send me to community college. Quinn, I can't go to _community college_."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with community college. You're such a princess."

"How was your day at school?"

Quinn slumped in the chair and shrugged, looking away at a messy stack of CDs on Jesse's bedroom floor. "We had to do career aptitude questionnaires."

"What do you think you'll get?"

"I don't know."

"What do you _want _to get?"

"...I don't know. When I started high school I thought I'd end up marrying Finn Hudson and having three kids and being a real estate agent, but now... I don't know. Maybe not."

"Of course not," Jesse wrinkled his nose, "Quinn Fabray? A wife, mom and real estate agent? How bleak is that?"

Quinn frowned. "Why? Because it's normal?"

"That's exactly why," nodded Jesse, "Why do you want to blend in so badly?"

Quinn looked away again and shrugged. "Why do you want to stand out so badly?"

"I want people to remember me," said Jesse, "No one remembers the bored housewife."

"Do you really want to start another fight?"

Jesse pursed his lips. "No. Let's get started, shall we? I thought we'd start with the bare basics."

Quinn furrowed her brow. "Why? I know the bare basics."

"No," said Jesse, "You know how to set things on fire. And basic mind control. And biological morphing. You don't know the basics."

"What's the point in learning the basics if I already know the more advanced stuff?"

Jesse sighed irritably. "If you want to beat Shelby, you have to know the basics."

"So, what? Are we gonna start with pulling a rabbit out of a hat?"

"No," Jesse laughed, "That's much too advanced for you. First, you're going to learn all the phases of the moon."

xxx

Buffy sat beneath the big gnarled oak tree in the Lima Cemetery and chewed her lip, thinking about today's events. She'd ran after Rachel to find that she had left school in the car her dads' bought her for her sixteenth birthday, which was surprising for Rachel, who never missed a day of school. Still, Buffy couldn't blame her. What happened between her and Finn had surely been devastating for her and Buffy just felt bad that she could do nothing but go back to class and hastily fill in her career aptitude test.

Buffy spotted a figure approaching out of the corner of her eye, but didn't move. She already knew the slender figure and the cocky swagger before Santana appeared from the haze.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy asked icily, still sitting against the tree.

"Creature of the night, remember?" Santana smirked.

Buffy frowned. "Why would you do that to Rachel?"

Santana opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. "So I'm guessing Finn confessed."

"More or less. Since when were you interested in Finn, anyways?"

"I'm not interested in Finn," said Santana, "And I didn't do anything to Rachel. If he didn't cheat on her with me, it would have been with some other girl. He told me himself. He was planning on getting laid at that party. Seems like Berry doesn't put out-"

"Don't talk about her like that," Buffy raised his hand, "Not after what you did."

Santana huffed. "I didn't do anything to her. I mean, not on purpose. I didn't sleep with Finn just to upset Berry, if that's what you mean."

"Then why? You don't even like Finn."

"No, I don't but..." Santana sighed reluctantly, "It was before Angel showed up and Brittany had just started dating Artie and... I was feeling sorry for myself. And he was there, with his big stupid face and his condom, and I was feeling shitty. I just wanted one moment of relief. I wanted to feel sexy and not like the girl I've loved since I was eight could care less about me."

"Of course Brittany cares about you," frowned Buffy.

"Oh, really?" Santana raised an eyebrow, "I've barely seen her since that damn Halloween party. And I know that's my fault, not hers, and mostly this stupid curse, but... She'll move on. She has Artie and a future, and any guy or girl would be lucky to have her. But me? I get Halloween party quickies with Finn Hudson."

Buffy breathed out through her nose and shook her head. "You can't make me feel sorry for you after what you did to Rachel."

"Would you stop it?" Santana grumbled, "Since when was protecting Rachel Berry's feelings my responsibility? We're not even friends-"

"I don't care! You can't pull that card. The I'm-a-lone-wolf-I-have-no-friends strategy. You have no right to make other people miserable. Believe it or not, Rachel does have breakable self esteem. I don't know if she's going to be okay."

"Of course she is," Santana wrinkled her nose, "She's young and cute and smart and talented and _alive_. So I slept with her boyfriend. Well, guess what? She's better off! If she's ever gonna get out of this town and be someone important, it's not gonna be with two hundred pounds of Frankenteen dragging her down. And why is this all my fault? Why aren't you getting mad at him?"

Buffy clenched her jaw. "I can't even look at him."

"I should go," Santana sighed, and disappeared back into the night.

Buffy's head was starting to hurt. She stood up from the oak tree and felt her stake poking out of her jacket sleeve. _I really should be looking for vamps to dust_, she thought begrudgingly, and started wandering around the foggy graveyard. It was a slow night, though. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her own footsteps on damp grass and soggy leaves. She stopped suddenly when she heard a light clinking sound coming from one of the mausoleums. In fact, it was coming from inside the mausoleum she first met Santana by - well, vampiric Santana. As Buffy walked towards it, she noticed a faint orange glow coming from inside the door, as if someone had a flashlight with them. She walked towards it, careful to be quiet, and inched the door open to silently peer inside. There was someone - a vampire - digging and searching through a tomb in the wall of the mausoleum, unaware he was being watched. Buffy turned back, closed the door and waited patiently for the vamp to finish. He stepped out and looked at her, his eyes full of surprise behind his half moon glasses.

"Does Rest In Peace have no sanctity to you people?" Buffy raised a honey blond eyebrow, "Oh, I forgot, you're not people."

Before she could attack the tomb-digger, she felt a large meaty presence behind her, and sure enough when she turned around there was a big, hulking vamp ready to pounce her from behind. She twirled and gave him a high, speedy kick to the chest and several well-executed punches to the face. For a big guy, he sure was useless in a fight. Buffy had no trouble staking him, but by the time the jock was dusted, the tomb-digging vamp was gone with the wind.

"Great," Buffy grumbled to herself.

She walked home, feeling unhappy and discouraged after the terrible day she and her friends had had, but before she could make it to the side of the house and climb into her bedroom window, there was someone waiting for her beside the porch. He was tall and dark and... handsome. She recognised him as the handsome stranger, and then remembered that Santana had said his name was Angel.

"You," she greeted.

"Buffy Summers," he replied, softly and formally, "Santana told me you lived here."

"Why would she tell you that?" Buffy asked, intrigued as she walked up the pathway to her house to stand beside him.

"In case I ever needed to contact you," said Angel.

"You know, they have these things called cell phones nowadays."

"Right. I could barely figure out how to work a pager in the early 90s..." Angel trailed off, "She gave me your address in case I thought there was something you should know about."

"What's up?" Buffy asked reluctantly.

"I... have a bad feeling," Angel said cryptically.

Buffy sighed. "Awesome. Another soulful bloodsucker comes with bad news."

She was surprised by how stung Angel looked. It was the only emotion she remembered seeing him display.

"Sorry..." she said sheepishly, "I'm Miss Cranky today. It's not your fault."

Angel nodded. "It's fine. I've been hearing things about... Spike and Drusilla."

"You know Spike and Drusilla?"

Angel nodded, again. "We've met," he said vaguely, "Drusilla's been cursed or infected by some villagers in Prague and I hear Spike's trying to look for a cure. I don't know what it is, but he had minions searching for it."

Buffy blinked and thought about the vampire digging around in the mausoleum. "Thank you, Angel. I'll keep an eye out for anything weird."

"Good."

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"When you see Santana... Me and her kind of had a fight about... something that's not important-"

"Rachel Berry?"

Buffy looked surprised. "She told you?"

"She tells me everything."

"I didn't know Santana liked to talk to people about her secrets and stuff."

"We have a very complex bond," Angel said simply, "Besides, I'm a good listener. And she's a good talker."

"Right. You seem like the quiet type," Buffy nodded, "Anyways, when you see her, she'll probably be feeling either guilty or angry or... lonely... so, could you do me a favor and take her somewhere? Not Willy's demon bar or the graveyard, but somewhere nice. All she does is roam the same places every night. It can't be good for her."

Angel nodded as if he understood. "You're a good friend."

Buffy nodded back, blushing a little. "Thanks."

xxx

When Buffy got to school the next day, most of the kids in her class were crowded around the bulletin board, and Buffy weaved her way through classmates to get to a pleasantly familiar head of blond hair.

"Sam," she greeted him, and stood beside him the messy line, "What's going on?"

"Results," Sam said simply, "For the aptitude test. How was last night?"

"Quiet," said Buffy, "Except Angel came to visit my house."

"Angel?"

"You know. The handsome stranger."

Sam frowned. "He's not that handsome. What was he doing at your house?"

"He says Spike's trying to cure Drusilla of something she got in Prague," Buffy shrugged, "I guess we'll talk about it with the other scoobies later. Have you seen Rachel?"

Sam shook his head. "Did you talk to her yesterday?"

"She hasn't been answering her phone," Buffy bit her bottom lip, "I really don't know if she'll be okay."

"I think she will," Sam said with confidence, "Although, I never knew Rachel when she wasn't dating Finn."

"Well, I have, and she was fine. But what if it's different now?"

Sam shrugged. "Rachel's strong. I mean, not slayer strong, but spirited."

Buffy nodded and peered at the bulletin board as Morgan Ru ran her finger down a list of names until she got to hers, and she gasped with excitement.

"Motivational speaker!" she said aloud.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" asked Sam.

Buffy shrugged. "Window shopper. Pie eater. Orange squeezer."

Sam grinned as the crowd got a little smaller. "I hope I get rockstar. Or superhero."

They waited patiently when Tina and Mike approached, Mike anxiously wringing his hands.

"Would you guys say you know me as well as about anyone else?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam.

"When you look at me... do you think, prison guard?" he asked.

Buffy and Sam snickered, and Tina smirked by her boyfriend's side.

"Crossing guard, maybe, but prison guard?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"What did yours say, Tina?" asked Sam.

"College professor," Tina wrinkled her nose, "I think the algorithms for these tests must be faulty."

"I don't know," Buffy shrugged as the line moved along, "I think you'd make a good teacher."

"Maybe," said Tina, "It's not what I want to do, though."

"What do you want to do?"

Tina smirked. "That is for me to know and you to find out."

Finn passed with his head hung down, although that didn't make much of a difference in his tall frame.

"Hey, Finn," called Sam, "What did you get?"

"Mall cop," Finn said simply, guiltily avoiding Buffy's eyes, and walked away toward Homeroom.

"You're talking to him?" Buffy snapped at Sam.

"He's the quarterback of our team," Sam shrugged, "There's no point in making my life harder by ignoring the guy."

Buffy folded her arms. "We're supposed to be on Rachel's side. She's heartbroken!"

Like clockwork, Rachel appeared, strutting down the hall with her softly tapping loafers and a big grin on her face.

"Good morning!" she greeted them cheerily and stood in line with them, "Aptitude test results?"

Buffy, Sam, Mike and Tina stared at her, slack jawed. "Uh huh," Mike replied.

"Are you guys excited to find out what you got?" she asked gingerly, "I didn't get a chance to take mine yesterday, but it would be pointless. Everyone knows I'm destined for Broadway stardom."

"Rach, are you okay?" Buffy asked.

"I'm great, Buffy," she shrugged, "The line's thinning out, though. Come on, go see what you got!"

Buffy sighed reluctantly and moved up to the bulletin board with Sam, searching for her name while he searched for his.

"Television aerial installation engineer," Sam read after his name, "Well, that's... oddly specific."

Buffy frowned at her result. "Law enforcement."

"As in police?" asked Sam.

"As in polyester, donuts and brutality," Mike shook his head.

"Hey, donuts!" Sam shrugged optimistically.

Buffy groaned. "Whatever. I'll just jump off that bridge when I come to it."

Quinn passed them, her long blond hair bouncing against her shoulders, looking distracted.

"Hey, Quinn," Rachel smiled, "Did you get your result?"

Quinn blinked at Rachel and tried her best to smile warmly. "Uh, yeah. Criminal psychologist."

"Wow," said Rachel, looking surprised, "That's impressive."

"I guess so," Quinn shrugged, "It's just a quiz. How accurate can it be?"

"Still, psychology. That'd be cool," said Sam.

"Yeah, I guess. Listen, I'll see you guys later," said Quinn, and rushed off in the other direction.

"Rachel, can I talk to you in the girls' room?" Buffy asked, turning away from the bulletin board.

"Sure," Rachel smiled, and Buffy pulled her off to the nearest restroom, and checked under the stalls to make sure they were alone.

"Rachel..." Buffy started, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you found out your boyfriend cheated on you last night."

Rachel smiled condescendingly. "Buffy, that's not an issue anymore."

"How is that not an issue?"

"Finn called last night and explained the situation."

"What do you mean?"

"How Puck goaded him into sleeping with another girl and how Santana seduced him at his party. It was all a terrible mistake, and he apologised and told me he loved me and... I'm over it."

Buffy gaped at her best friend. "You can't be serious."

"Well, I am. What Finn and I have is worth fighting for. We can't give up just because of one bump in the road."

"This is more than a bump in the road, Rachel. He doesn't respect you enough to stay faithful and you just forgive him like that?" Buffy snapped her finger.

Rachel sighed. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Good, because I don't," Buffy sighed, "Rachel, you are so much better than this. Finn doesn't deserve you after what he did."

"People make mistakes, Buffy. Are you saying Finn should never get another chance?"

"Of course Finn should get another chance. With _someone else_."

Rachel pursed her lips. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

"Because you _can't_. You can't possibly give me a good reason for why you're doing this."

To Buffy's surprise, Rachel's eyes started to well up with tears. "Because what if this is my only chance, Buffy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Finn is this great, strong, handsome, popular guy who likes _me_, of all people, and what if he's the only chance at happiness I'm ever going to get? I mean, being realistic, what chance do I really have on Broadway? Yes, I'm talented and hard working and I have a fierce competitive edge... but it's still a long shot. For anyone. And if my dream doesn't work out, at least I'll still have Finn."

Buffy frowned. "That's no good reason for staying in a relationship, Rachel. You know that."

Rachel wiped a tear from her eye. "Yeah, well, sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get the best possible outcome. Not every solution is perfect."

"And that's what the best possible outcome is? Being stuck with a cheating boyfriend and no career? That's really the best you think you can do?"

Rachel shrugged. "Maybe."

Buffy shook her head. "You know, with all this Career Fair stuff, all I can think about is how whatever potential I have to do anything else doesn't matter, because my fate is signed, sealed and delivered, big time. But you, Rachel? You can do anything. Maybe Broadway won't work out. Who knows? But if it doesn't, that does not mean your life is over. There is so much possibility for a girl like you. Don't waste it on Finn."

"But..." Rachel seemed unable to finish her sentence.

"And listen to me, Rachel. You aren't lucky to have him. He was lucky to have _you_."

Rachel sniffled. "I really thought he was a good guy."

"He will be," Buffy said sympathetically, "But right now he's a dumb kid who doesn't deserve you. You need to end it with him."

Rachel nodded, trying to blink tears out of her now red rimmed eyes. "Thank you, Buffy."

xxx

Buffy found Mr. Schuester in his office, his desk even messier than usual, full of music sheets and lyrics and encrypted occult prophecies.

"Buffy, good," he said, briefly looking up, "I've been getting our routine for Sectionals ready. I have a feeling Rachel won't be in the spirits to sing solo."

"You never know. The show must go on, as she always says. But yeah, I think we should all take it easy on Rachel."

"In any case, I have you and Sam singing 'The Time of My Life' for the first performance-"

"Wait, what?"

"Come on, Buffy, I need you to do this for me. Then Tina will sing 'Valerie' and Mike and Brittany will have a dance break. And maybe we'll end with 'Don't Stop Believin''."

"Again? Doesn't that seem a little overdone?"

"It's a crowd pleaser," Will shrugged, "How was last night's patrol?"

"It was okay. I caught one out of two vamps after one stole something from a mausoleum."

Will looked mildly concerned. "Stealing?"

"Yeah. Digging through a tomb with a pickaxe and everything. The whole enchilada. What does that mean, anyways? The whole enchilada? How big is this enchilada?"

"Did you see what the vampire took?"

"No, but I can take a guess and say it was something old."

Will grimaced. "You didn't even try to find out what he took?"

"Ugh. I was preoccupied with friend problems and stupid Career Day! I just thought it was everyday vamp hijinks."

"Well, what if it wasn't?" Will frowned, setting aside his music sheets, "Buffy, you have to be more attentive and-"

"You know what? I don't like you telling me how to do my job," she huffed, "If you think you can find someone better, be my guest. Oh wait, there is no one else. Looks like you're stuck with me."

**a/n: Thanks for patiently waiting for updates, and thanks to everyone who reviewed!**


	44. The Order of Taraka

**a/n: Thanks, everyone, for your reviews! They're my motivation :D**

Spike held the cross, gold and ornate, on a red velvet pillow, so it wouldn't burn his pallid skin.

"This is it, then," he smirked at it, holding it front of Drusilla as they rested in the makeshift bedroom of their lair, Dru's scarves and dolls and tarot cards strewn around the place.

"It hums," she said dreamily, her hand hovering above the golden cross, "I can hear it."

"Once you're well again we'll have a coronation down main street," Spike said, kneeling in front of her, "And we'll invite everyone and drink for seven days and seven nights."

"What about the slayer?" asked Dalton

Spike growled under his breath at Dalton's unwelcome interruption. The scrawny undead transcriber stood awkwardly by the door, peering at them with shifty eyes beneath his glasses.

"She almost blew the whole thing for us. She's trouble," said Dalton.

Spike clenched his jaw. "You don't say?" he said, standing up and setting the cross down beside Drusilla, "Trouble? She's the gnat in my ear! The grizzle in my teeth. She's the bloody thorn in my bloody side!"

"Spike," said Drusilla, gazing at her lover with concern.

"We've got to do something," said Spike, "We'll never find your cure with that slayer breathing down our necks. I need to bring in the big guns. They'll take care of her, once and for all."

"Big guns?" asked Dalton.

"The Order of Taraka."

"The bounty hunters?"

Drusilla grinned to herself, setting three tarot cards down in front of her. A three headed sphinx, a giant centipede, a hiding tiger.

"They're coming to my party," she said gleefully, "Three of them."

"Y-Yes, but... they're the Order of Taraka. I mean, isn't that overkill?" asked Dalton.

"No," said Spike, looking at the cards over Drusilla's shoulder, "I think it's just enough kill."

…

Quinn waited on the curb on the very corner of McKinley High as kids flooded out of the building, driving away in cars or walking home in tight groups of friends. She noticed how the others girl in red and white Cheerios uniforms avoided her and strutted the other way with their uniformed friends. Even now that she was back on the team, the others girls whispered about her and made jokes at her expense. It didn't feel that different from when she was pregnant and unpopular. She was beginning to think she should give up cheerleading altogether.

Jesse was very much in favor of that option. Maybe he was right. Being a Cheerio didn't make her as happy as it used to and it took away time that could be spent keeping her 3.9 GPA up and training with Jesse. He had her laboriously memorising what the _moon _would be like throughout the year. She wanted to say that it was all pointless, but if it would bring her closer to getting her daughter back, she would put her reluctant trust in him.

Quinn turned her head and spotted a familiar brunette walking towards the car her dads generously gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

"Rachel!" she called to the girl crossing the parking lot.

Rachel squinted at Quinn, and then smiled politely and met the blond halfway.

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel smiled, always pleased to talk to her, although Quinn could tell she'd been crying by her red-rimmed eyes.

"Hi," said Quinn, "I'd been meaning to talk to you about everything that happened recently."

Rachel looked down at the pavement. "You don't have to."

"I'm sorry."

Rachel bit her lip. "Does everyone know?"

"No," Quinn shook her head, although she wasn't so sure, "But I live with Santana, so..."

Rachel sighed. "I should have known, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"He cheated on you when you two were together. With me, no less," Rachel shook her head.

"It's not the same," Quinn shook her head, her blond ponytail bouncing, "Finn and I had a really strained relationship, and that was a kiss or two, not..."

Quinn trailed off, not wanting to remind Rachel about her ex-boyfriend's sordid night with Santana.

"Yeah. He never would have done that to you."

"What? No, he might have... He really did love you more," Quinn said, furrowing her brow and asking herself what on Earth she was trying to say, "Look, I'm just sorry that you got hurt. I'm probably not the best friend. I know I'm not there for you a lot, but I will admit that I care about you, and if you ever needed to talk..."

"Thanks, Quinn," Rachel said quietly, smiling, "You have no idea how happy it makes me that you think we're friends."

Quinn smirked and met Rachel's eyes, until they were both distracted by a car horn honking. Quinn looked behind her and her face went pale to see Jesse waiting impatiently in the driver's seat of his black SUV. She held up one finger to him, and he glanced at both her and Rachel and nodded stiffly.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Rachel asked when Quinn turned back to her.

"Sure," said Quinn, afraid of what Rachel might ask.

"Are you and Jesse dating?"

"No," Quinn sighed, "Not at all. Me and Jesse are... complicated."

Rachel nodded, not wanting to seem too nosy. "How do you know him?"

Quinn swiftly looked back at Jesse before she replied. "We grew up across the street from each other. We were best friends in elementary school."

"Really?" Rachel looked surprised, "What happened?"

Quinn sighed to herself. There was no reason she had to hide anything from Rachel, was there?

"Jesse and I were really into witchcraft when we were young. I'm pretty sure the only reason he noticed me was because he saw me set a rose on fire one day. He took up witchcraft, too, but he wasn't quite as good as me. I could do more than him and he knew that, so he got me to do things he couldn't."

"Like what?" asked Rachel, mildly concerned.

Quinn grimaced, thinking of the days she spent with Jesse intimidating the kids in their class and finding their way out of chores, by the power of magic.

"It doesn't matter," Quinn shook her head, "Whatever it was, I did it. I could never say no to him because I had such a big damn crush on the boy."

"Why did you stop being friends?"

"We got in a little too deep. Jesse had started getting me to use my magic to summon things and even hurt people... At the end of middle school, I used my magic to make me look different. Thinner. Prettier. Blonder. Jesse hated it. He thought it was a waste of my power. I just thought he was jealous that people were going to like me and I wouldn't depend on him anymore. I knew that I was going to be popular and I wouldn't do what he wanted me to. We had a big fight and we stopped talking."

Rachel sighed deep, looking like she was processing it all. "Jesse never even mentioned magic to me when we were dating."

"It's not really something you bring up when you're getting to know someone. He probably thought he'd sound crazy."

Although Quinn knew that wasn't the reason at all. Still, she wasn't about to be the first to break it to Rachel that her mom was a witch and she probably was one, too.

"So why did you start hanging out again?"

Quinn grimaced. She also didn't want to tell Rachel about her plot to take her daughter back from Shelby. Then she'd be the one who sounded crazy.

"He's helping me with my witchcraft," said Quinn, "And don't worry. He's different now. He's learned a lot. Might not necessarily have my power but he has a lot more control than I do. I know what he did to you last year, and I don't agree with it, but... I really need his help."

Rachel nodded. "You don't need to explain anything to me."

Quinn shrugged, because even though she knew she didn't, she felt like she did.

"Bye, Rachel," Quinn said, and leaned forward to give the girl an awkward, one-armed hug.

Quinn sprinted back to Jesse's SUV and hopped into his passenger seat.

"Don't say anything," she warned him.

"I thought you didn't care about Rachel Berry," he smirked.

"I lied," said Quinn, stone-faced.

"As long as you're honest about it now. Have you memorised the phases?"

"Yes," Quinn grumbled, "Can we move on today? I'm sick of the moon."

"Of course we can," said Jesse, driving away from the school and towards his neighborhood, "You need to be familiar with the zodiac cycle."

Quinn groaned dramatically. "You're no fun, St. James."

"I'm helping you on your greatest mission," Jesse smirked, "And I'm doing it for _free _no less."

"You'd be a real asshole to charge me."

"I don't see why. I'm giving you valuable lessons and even picking you up after school, and all you do is act reluctant to be seen with me."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Like I've said plenty of times already, you're doing this for yourself just as much as for me."

"Hardly. Even if we do wipe Shelby's memory of Beth's very existence, how do I know she'll want me to be her legacy? She didn't before."

"And what is it with this legacy stuff?" asked Quinn, "Why is she so eager for her name to live on?"

Jesse smirked. "Every sacred coven leader has a successor. A protege, if you will. I was so sure Shelby would pick me, but she wanted a child. I should have never told her you were pregnant."

Quinn gaped at the boy. "_You _told her about Beth? So _you _actually got us into this mess?"

Jesse frowned. "You should be thankful. If Shelby hadn't adopted Beth, it'd be some nameless couple that you'd never be able to find, and then Beth would be lost to you forever."

Quinn glared at him as he pulled up in his driveway. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Jesse smirked, "Now, I'll make us some coffee while I find my astrology calendar."

xxx

"Buffy, _slow down_!"

Buffy smirked to herself, storming through the Lima Cemetery in the middle of the day, with Mr. Schuester struggling to keep up behind her on his sneakers.

"Gotta keep up, Will," she said, not slowing her pace, "We got work to do. Get with the programme."

Will frowned. "Buffy, you're being immature."

"Guess what? I _am _immature. I'm a teenager!"

"I was just trying to give you some constructive criticism, Buffy."

"No, you weren't. You were way harsh. Like I don't know how to be a slayer or something? I'm the best there is! ...And the worst there is. I'm the only! So I'm sorry you didn't get someone better."

"Buffy, don't be like that."

"You act like I'm the one who picked this gig, but _I'm _the picked."

"Being a slayer is more than a gig," Will strode behind her, following her to the mausoleum, "It's a sacred duty. Which shouldn't prevent you from pursuing a career. I have one."

Buffy sighed. "Will, it's one thing to be a watcher and a teacher. They go together, like chicken and... another chicken... You know what I mean. The point is, no one blinks an eye if you want to spend all your days with books. What am I supposed to do? Carve stakes for a nursery?"

"Point taken. I guess I never really... Well, here's an idea. Have you ever considered law enforcement?"

Buffy stopped in her tracks and glared at her watcher.

"What?" asked Mr. Schuester.

Buffy sighed and nodded to the mausoleum a few feet away from them. She opened the door and they let themselves into the dark, musty smelling tomb, the neglected place riddled with cobwebs. Will removed a thin, black flashlight from inside his coat pocket and shined it at the wall, seeing that a seal of one of the tombs was broken. There was a wide hole in the wall, and Buffy and Will peered inside.

"Looks like... religious items," Will said uncertainly. He looked up and spotted the marble slab above the tomb. _Du Lac_.

"Who's Du Lac?" asked Buffy.

"The guy who was buried here," said Will, "I've heard of him. He was excommunicated from the Vatican church over a hundred years ago... Do you remember the book that was stolen from my office by a vampire a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah."

"It was written by Du Lac. It was supposed to have spells and rituals in it that were used for evil, but it was written in archaic Latin, so no-one could understand it."

"So it doesn't really matter, then?"

"I think it does. First the Du Lac book taken from my office, and now someone stole something from Du Lac's tomb... That can't just be a coincidence. Something's coming, Buffy. And I can tell you it's not gonna be good."

xxx

"So is Mr. Schuester sure that the vampire who stole the book is connected to the one you slayed last night?" Tina asked the next day.

"You always ask the smart questions," said Mike, and planted a kiss on his girlfriend's head.

Rachel's bitter eye roll was not lost on Buffy. The four of them spent their lunch hour lounging in the choir room, as always, centred around the grand piano. Brad had given Buffy the evil eye once or twice for getting sticky sushi stuck between his keys.

"Slayed? Slew?" Sam asked himself as he walked into the choir room to join the others, bringing in a cafeteria tray stacked with tater tots.

"Both are right," Tina grinned at him as he pulled up a chair to the piano.

"And yes, I'm sure," said Mr. Schuester, strolling in with his laptop in his arms, "And Brad's gonna be annoyed if he sees you using his piano as a picnic table."

"Brad's a man of few words," said Mike, "I have a feeling he'll suffer in silence."

"This website says he invented something called the Du Lac cross," said Mr. Schuester.

"Brad did?" Buffy furrowed her brow.

"No," Will rolled his eyes, "Du Lac."

"Lame name for an invention," Sam frowned, "What about the Cross-o-matic, or the Crossinator?"

"I've heard of that," said Tina, "The cross was used to understand mystical texts."

"So the vamps went to all this hassle for a decoder ring?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I guess so," shrugged Will.

"Du Lac destroyed them all, except for the one buried with him," said Tina.

"What was the point of that?" asked Rachel.

"He was probably afraid of what might happen if it fell into the wrong hands," Sam frowned.

"Exactly," sighed Tina, "Something we'll probably experience for ourselves if these vampires get what they want."

"Oh my God," Buffy suddenly gasped to herself, "I totally forgot to tell you guys. I talked to Angel-"

"Soulful Undead 2.0?" said Sam.

"The handsome stranger?" Tina nodded, her eyes widening.

"Handsome?" Mike wrinkled his nose.

"What did he say, Buffy?" Will leaned in.

"He said Spike and Drusilla were up to something. Drusilla is sick with some disease she got in Prague. Do you think they're trying to use this Cross-o-matic to find a cure for her?" Buffy questioned.

Will bit his bottom lip. "That sounds very likely. If we want to stop them, we'll have to figure it out before they do. Beat them to the punch. Do you guys mind staying late tonight?"

Tina smiled with excitement. "Research party!" she cheered.

…

The sun had set and Lima was painted a royal blue as night approached. Buffy knew it would only be a couple more hours before her mother would get suspicious that she was actually at a study group. Even though she _was_. Still, Buffy was more or less just there for moral support when it came to research. The rest of them were the brains. Will was her watcher, and Tina, Mike and Rachel were known for their straight As, and even sweet, goofy Sam had extensive knowledge about science fiction, which came in handy more than they had anticipated.

Even though Buffy was the slayer and had the biggest responsibility to know about the world of the oogly boogly, she couldn't help that she was just more interested in kicking ass than learning what kind of desert dwelling demon ass it was that she was kicking. She tended to wish that she was more academically inclined, but she just wasn't. Maybe that's why she was destined for law enforcement... She could see herself now in polyester navy, working as a mall cop. She shuddered to herself as she walked around the corner to find the nearest convenience store.

Since her skills in research and critical thinking were seriously lacking, her main role in the late night study party was to go fetch the snacks. At least she could hold on to the mental note of what everyone wanted. Sam wanted an extra large bag of candied pretzels and a Twinkie, Tina wanted Raisinets, Rachel wanted a Vitamin Water and a... and a... _Damn it, Buffy_, she scolded herself as she entered the 7-Eleven, _You can't even remember a food order? How did you ever get that summer job as a waitress?!_

She took out her phone and begrudgingly texted Tina, asking her to remind her what everyone wanted. She sulked through a small candy aisle as she waited for her friend to text back, when a large, dark shadow fell over her. She looked up and was surprised to the handsome stra-... Angel.

"Hi, Angel," she said. It was strange to see his broad, dark figure in the middle of a 7-Eleven. "What are you doing here?"

Angel looked awkwardly out of place as he lifted his hands, showing her that she was holding a bright yellow box of Tio Pepe's Churros and a bag of Sour Patch Kids.

"I'm taking Santana out tonight," he explained, "Like you said. She made me pick up snacks."

Buffy raised an eyebrow, amused. "I didn't know vampires ate."

"We don't need to, but we can," said Angel, "Santana says churros remind her of her grandma."

"So I take it the Sour Patch Kids are for you?"

Angel looked down at the candy, clenching his jaw as if he were embarrassed. It was kind of adorable for Buffy to see a guy so stoic and mysterious enjoying some fruity sweets, and Angel probably sensed that.

"What are you here for?"

"Oh," said Buffy, feeling her phone buzz, "The gang and I are studying late tonight so I'm going on a junk food run."

She looked down at the text containing the list of items her friends wanted, and began to gather them in a basket with Angel standing awkwardly nearby.

"What are you researching?" he asked.

"We think Spike and Drusilla might be closer to finding that cure," said Buffy, "We just need to figure out what they're going to do before they do it, so we can stop them. I hate to think what they'd have planned for when Drusilla's back to her full strength."

Angel nodded, his forehead creased. "I would, too. I wish I could help-"

"No, go be with Santana. Where are you taking her?"

"Ice skating," Angel shrugged, "I couldn't think of anywhere else... She used to likes cheerleading, so I thought she'd like something active."

Buffy side-eyed Angel with a smirk as the lethargic cashier rung up her items. "I don't get it," she thought aloud.

"Pardon?"

"Usually when people meet Santana, it takes her awhile to warm up to them and vice versa. And she's no stranger to pushing people away, including me, but somehow, you show up and it's like you're instantly her best friend. She tells you everything, past and present. She doesn't guard herself with you. What's up with that?"

Buffy bagged her items as Angel paid for his, and the both of them strolled out of the store while he sighed thoughtfully.

"Like I said, complex bond."

"Still," Buffy wrinkled her brow.

"When I'd heard from my sources that there was another vampire out there that was like me, it was my mission to find her. We're not common, Buffy. In fact, we're traditionally unheard of. I knew that if there was someone out there who had any idea what it was like to walk with the dead but not really belong... I had to know her."

Buffy stared up at him, enthralled. "Is she what you expected?"

Angel smirked. "Not at all. Mostly, I expected her to be older. A lot older. She's only seventeen. A child."

Buffy frowned. "I'm almost seventeen."

"Right," Angel's eyes wandered away, distracted, "She's a lot like me in some respects."

"Is that so?"

"We're solitary people. Probably because of who we are, we know we'll never fit in with anyone else. Vampires, humans, demons... We're too different. She doesn't know half as much about me as I know about her, but she trusts me, because she doesn't have a lot of other options."

Buffy looked sympathetic. "It's more than that. You're good to her. Not just because you're another soulful undead, but because you're a decent guy."

Angel sighed, looking far away. "I wouldn't be so quick to judge."

"What do you-?"

"Buffy, watch out!"

Before Buffy could make her next move, a thick, rock solid arm came over her head and squeezed around her neck, lifting her several feet above the ground. She was lifted up, twirled around and slammed onto the ground, unable to breathe as all the air was knocked out of her body. She looked up at her attacker with wide eyes and was bewildered by the face that looked back at her, curtained by long, stringy hair. One of his eyes was cloudy white and the other was a dark red and full of mindless rage.

Angel knocked him back, swinging an impressive punch at the bulky vampire's scarred face. The vampire stumbled back a little before sending a winding punch into Angel's abs. Angel didn't give up easy. The merciless jabs went on until the vampire gripped Angel by the neck.

Buffy sucked in breath, leapt off of the ground and hit the vampire over the head with her hefty bag of junk food. He turned back to her, bewildered, and when he lunged forward, Buffy jumped high and drove her stake right into his neck. She knew she was a mile away from her target point, but somehow, a broken neck did the job. The vamp slumped forward and onto the ground, but he didn't burst into dust.

"He wasn't a vampire," Buffy said, her brow creasing.

Angel frowned, rubbing his neck. "He definitely wasn't human."

Buffy rolled her neck. "Why didn't I think to stretch before I left? Danger lurks even at the 7-Eleven when you're a slayer," she grumbled, "And I'm sure this wasn't the evening you were hoping for."

Angel leaned down and inspected the attacker, trailing his finger over the man's hand and spotting a small golden ring with a logo printed on it.

"You're in danger," he said gravely, "Do you know what this ring means?"

"I just killed a Superbowl champ?"

"This is serious, Buffy. You should go home and wait until you hear from me."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about? You weren't sent here to be my protector. Last time I checked, I was the one who did the protecting."

"Well, now, you need protection," said Angel, starting to get irritable, "Trust me, please. You need to be somewhere safe."

Buffy frowned reluctantly. She hated to admit it, but Angel was the kind of guy who inspired trust.

"Let me take the ring back to my watcher," said Buffy.

Angel nodded reluctantly. "Go on. I'll go find Santana."

…

"The slayer's passing under our feet. Right now."

Drusilla turned over one of her tarot cards on the duvet she was laying under. The three eyed sphinx. It wouldn't be needed anymore.

"No worries," Spike said lightly, leaning beside her on the bed in their lair, "The manuscript is almost decoded. We just need a bit more time."

Drusilla sighed wearily. "Time is ours. It brings the slayer closer to them."

…

Will held the attacker's ring flat on his palm, with Tina and the others staring at it from over his shoulder.

"This guy was hardcore, Will," said Buffy, sitting on a plastic choir room chair turned backwards.

Sam sighed and walked over to Buffy. "I'm just glad you're okay," he said, leaning down to peck her cheek.

"I'm fine," Buffy shrugged, "But Angel was majorly freaked by that ring."

"He wasn't overreacting," Will raised an eyebrow at the ring and clenched his jaw, "This ring is only worn by members of the Order of Taraka. It's a society of assassins."

"Why are these assassins after me?" asked Buffy.

"Could be 'cause you're the scurge of the underworld," Mike shrugged his shoulders.

"I haven't been that scurgey lately," said Buffy.

"We need to find you somewhere to stay," said Will, "Until we can figure out what to do about this."

Buffy frowned. "Can I not handle this? I mean, I am the slayer. Both you and Angel have now told me to head for the hills, but I think I'm strong enough to handle these goons."

"They're not goons, Buffy," Will said seriously, "They're not like anything else we've fought. They have one desire, only one, and that's to kill their target. And sure, you can slay one, but another will come in its place, and they'll keep coming and coming until the job is done. Each of them work alone. In their own way. Some are human. Some... aren't. We won't know who they are, until they attack."

The others grimaced, looking grave.

"You can stay with me, Buffy," said Rachel, "Just tell your mom you're sleeping over. My dads won't mind."

Buffy nodded absentmindedly. "Fine," she said, feeling afraid and defeated.

…

Santana crossed her arms and clenched her jaw outside the seasonal ice rink outside of the Lima city centre. She grumbled unintelligibly to herself as she walked away, convinced that Angel wasn't turning up. Although she was annoyed, she couldn't help but be worried about him. Nobody - _nobody _- stood up Santana Lopez unless they were grave danger, because if they weren't already, they were about to be. She found her way to Angel's dingy basement apartment downtown and rapped her knuckles hard against the door.

"Angel?" she called, but there was no answer.

She was surprised to find the door unlocked, but she let herself in and looked around. It was a dark and windowless space, just like a vampire would like it, with a bed that didn't look terribly comfortable and a surprising number of art lining the walls. There were stacks of books on the floor and coffee table, because of course Angel spent his time reading rather than boozing it up like Santana did.

Santana sighed to herself. He definitely wasn't here, and now she was getting worried. She went over to his bed and clutched a handful of his duvet. She already had his scent locked into her memory. Musky and... dusty. She let go of the blanket and turned around just to find herself with a faceful of fist.

Santana reeled back from the unexpected punch, laying flat on Angel's bed. She looked up, alarmed, and looming in front of her was a tiny Asian girl with a pair of chunky red Ray Bans on her face, her dark hair up in chipper pigtails, holding a sharpened stake in front of her. Santana kicked at the girl and sent her reeling back before she had a chance to give Santana so much as a splinter. Santana stood up almost as fast as the tiny girl did. The girl lunged forward, swinging her stake, but Santana caught her thin arms in her hands.

Her breath was taken away as the smaller girl pulled her grip forward, swinging Santana around and pinning her down on the ground. Santana didn't have time to wrap her head around why such a tiny girl had so much strength. The girl was straddling Santana, her stake pointed at the girl's heart, with Santana hands over her wrists, trying to keep the stake as far away as possible.

"C'mon," Santana grunted, "Don't make me go all Lima Heights."

The smaller girl furrowed her brow. "Lima Heights?" she asked, with a slight accent that Santana couldn't place.

Santana reached one arm forward and pulled one of the girl's pigtails as hard as inhumanly possible. The girl shrieked and Santana kicked her off, kicking her stake out of her dainty hands. The girl leapt up, without a weapon and gripped Santana's shoulders, throwing her forward onto Angel's coffee table, which gave way under her force. Santana groaned, but she got back up as quick as she could to kick the little bitch square in the chest. The girl just got back up, fists clenched.

"Damn, hobbit, you do not give up," Santana snarled.

"No. I don't," the girl said defiantly, although the effect didn't quite make it. She was too small and girlish to be intimidating, and Santana couldn't help but notice she was wearing a Hello Kitty watch. _Gag me_. "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" Santana glared, "I'm Santana fucking Lopez. Who the fuck are you?"

The girl smirked slightly. "I'm Sunshine," she said, "The vampire slayer."

**a/n: Sunshine the Vampire Slayer. At least it follows the theme of slayers being tiny and having funny names. Let me know what you all think. Faberry or St. Fabray? Your two cents is highly encouraged.**


	45. The Chosen Two

Santana breathed heavily and stood across from Sunshine, the vampire slayer, with her fists outstretched.

"Okay, one more time. You're the _who_?" Santana demanded.

This tiny Asian girl had shown up, unexpected, at Angel's windowless basement apartment, hell bent on kicking Santana's ass and claiming she was a vampire slayer, which was clearly more than alarming to Santana because a), as far as she knew, the real slayer, Buffy Summers, was still alive and well and b) Sunshine was _really _short, and dressed like a freaking toddler.

"I'm the slayer," Sunshine frowned, "And you can't stop me! Even if you kill me, another slayer will be sent to take my place."

"Okay, can you stop with the slayer stuff? Buffy is the slayer!"

"What's a Buffy?"

"She's the slayer!"

"There is only one slayer, and that's me!"

"Okay, listen, Sunny, how about we both back off for a second and I take you to the slayer and her watcher until we can figure this all out?"

"Why should I trust you? You're a vampire!"

Santana sighed irritably. "Look, you're the slayer, right? So if I bring you to the wrong place, you can just kick my ass and dust me."

Sunshine looked reluctant, but she nodded, fists outstretched, and let Santana lead her to McKinley High.

xxx

Sunshine's first day in Lima, Ohio, was both more exciting and confusing than she had expected, but she was really willing to give herself to her calling. The Watcher's Council had promised to get parents green cards so they could come from the Philippines and live in America with her. Now, she was just afraid that maybe she wouldn't be needed in Lima, after all. The vampire, though evil and skanky, had been telling the truth. She wasn't the only slayer, even though there was only supposed to be one.

"Your watcher is Sam Agbuya," said Will Schuester, another young man dispatched from the Watcher's Council.

He was pacing around the high school choir room that the vampire had brought Santana to, with three of his students sitting and watching intently on plastic chairs, even though it was early in the morning and the sun would be coming up soon.

"Yes," Sunshine replied to him.

As soon as she had arrived with the vampires and proven her heightened strength to Mr. Schuester and his students, he had hastily made a phone call to the girl named Buffy, urging her to come to school early.

"We've met," Will nodded, "He's well respected."

"So he's a real guy?" Santana raised an eyebrow, "As in, non-fictional?"

"And you're called...?" Mike asked, looking up at Sunshine.

"I am the vampire slayer," Sunshine folded her arms.

"We got that, honey, he means your name," smirked Santana.

"Oh. Sunshine Corazon," she replied, "The Watcher's Council moved me here from the Philippines."

The others heard quick tapping footsteps approaching from the hall and turned to the door as Buffy rushed in, with Rachel quickly tagging along behind her.

"What is this about a new slayer?" Buffy said right off the bat, folding her arms in front of her chest and eyeing Sunshine.

"Should we be talking about this in front of civilians?" Sunshine asked uneasily.

"Relax, these are my friends," Buffy frowned.

"I don't understand," frowned Sunshine.

"Sunshine, there are a few people," started Will, "Who know about Buffy's identity. Tina, Mike, Sam and Rachel are some of them."

"And you allow this?" Sunshine asked him.

"Well..."

"The slayer must work in secret. For security."

"Well, of course, but with Buffy some... flexibility is required."

"Why?" Sunshine frowned.

"Mr. Schuester," Rachel frowned dramatically, "Can we please pause the discussion so you can explain _why _there is another girl claiming to be a vampire slayer in Lima?"

"Looks like there's been a really big mix up," said Buffy, agitated as she took a seat next to Sam.

"How is this possible?" asked Rachel, "Two slayers at the same time."

"I don't know," Will shook his head, "The new slayer is only called after the one before her has died, so..."

"Buffy," Tina gasped, "You _were _dead."

Buffy squirmed in her seat. "Only for a minute."

"I don't think it matters how long. Technically, you were dead and that probably triggered the activation of a new slayer."

"You _died_?" asked Sunshine.

"Just a little," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"She drowned," said Will, "But she was revived."

"So there really are two of them," said Sam, wholly impressed.

"This is a very rare situation," said Will, "I'm not sure how to go about this."

"What's the big confusion?" Buffy furrowed her brow, "It's a mistake, she's not supposed to be here, she goes home. End of story. No offense, Sundance, but I'm not dead and having you around creeps me out a little bit."

"I can't just leave," Sunshine protested, "I was sent here for a reason. All the signs indicate that a very dark power is on the rise in Lima."

"And what's your big plan?" snorted Santana, "Attack people randomly until you find a bad one."

"_You're _not a person," said Sunshine, "You're a vampire."

"Hey, Santana is our _friend_," Buffy frowned, standing up and nearing Sunshine, her shoulders rigid.

"How can you keep acquaintance with a vampire?" Sunshine demanded, "She's evil and... skanky."

"Hey!" Santana snapped.

"She's got a point," Rachel mumbled in the background.

"Listen, Mini-Berry, and I call you that because even the hobbity hobbit of all the hobbits in the shire can loom over you like the freakin' Empire State building; yeah, I'm a vampire. Yeah, maybe I can be a little bit evil. Who isn't? But skanky? I prefer promiscuous and even then, you better watch your little Filipino tongue before you run your mouth or else I might just unleash a little someone we like to call Snix and she will go _all _Lima Heights on your tiny ass!"

Sunshine clenched her jaw and stared, bewildered, at Santana. Buffy could only smirk, amused.

"Right," Will sighed, "Listen, Sunshine, through very rare circumstances, Santana was granted a soul. So while, yes, she's a vampire, she won't hurt anyone."

Rachel snorted.

"And so is Angel," Santana nodded.

"Angel?" Sunshine wrinkled her nose, "You mean Angelus? I've read about him. He's a monster."

"No, he's good now," said Buffy.

"He has a gypsy curse." Santana shrugged.

"He has a what?" Sunshine raised an eyebrow.

"Just trust me on this, alright?" Santana grumbled.

"Why should I?" Sunshine folded her arms, "He looked like just another animal to me when I-"

"When you what? What did you do to him?"

"I-"

"What did you do?"

xxx

"Angel?"

Buffy had broken open the door of the backroom of Willy's Demon Bar. This was the place Sunshine said she had locked Angel up, to wait for his doom as the sun rose behind the window. Now that Buffy was here it seemed that Angel was not, but there also was no mound of dust on the floor to indicate that he had died in here.

"No ashes," Sunshine said what Buffy was thinking, "I didn't kill him."

"Good, so maybe Santana won't kill you," Buffy frowned at the girl. She'd made Santana stay behind, hiding herself in Mr. Schuester's office to avoid the morning sun for the rest of the day.

"Whoa," came a voice from the backroom door and Buffy turned to see it was Willy, the barowner, with his hair slicked back, "There's a lot of tension in this room."

Sunshine ran forward and knocked Willy to the ground, straddling him and holding his arms down.

"Doesn't anyone just say hello where you come from?" Buffy snapped, standing over the struggling pair.

"This one is hiding something," said Sunshine, "I can feel it."

"That's great, but we're not gonna get anything out of him if he's unconscious."

Buffy pulled Sunshine off of Willy and tugged him up by his red bowling shirt, slamming him against the wall and watching him writhe under her grip.

"What did you do to Angel?" Buffy asked.

"My buddy Angel? You think I'd let him fry? I saved his neck. He was about five minutes away from being crispy critter."

"Where did he go?"

"He said he was gonna stay underground to, you know, recuperate."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"I swear on my mother's grave! Should something fatal happen to her, God forbid."

"Then the vampire is fine," said Sunshine, "We'll go back to your watcher for orders."

Buffy grimaced. "I don't take orders. I do things my way."

"No wonder you died," sneered Sunshine.

xxx

Spike moved to the bed, looming over a sleeping Drusilla and giving her a peck on the side of her head. Drusilla groaned slightly.

"I was dreaming," she said sleepily, her thin eyelids still closed.

"Of what, pet?"

"We were in Paris. You had a branding iron."

"I brought you something."

"And there were worms in my baguette."

Spike skipped across the room to retrieve Drusilla's gift.

"Your sire, my sweet," he grinned devilishly.

Angel had a rope tying his hands behind his back and his broad frame was weak after spending so many hours locked up so close to sunlight. He grunted painfully as Spike hoisted him up and pushed him towards Drusilla.

"Angel?" Drusilla smiled.

"Now all we need's the full moon tonight. He will die and your health will be fully restored, my black goddess," he dropped Angel to the floor, took Drusilla's hand and hungrily kissed it, "My ripe, wicked plum. It's been-"

"Forever," Drusilla finished his sentence, and passionately kissed him, running her black painted fingernails through his bleached white hair.

"Spike, let me have him," pleaded Drusilla, "Until the moon."

Spike smiled. "Okay, you can play, but don't kill him. He mustn't die til the ritual."

Drusilla nodded, a maniacal expression in her eyes. "Bring him to me."

xxx

"Sunshine, I've talked with your watcher and we both agree until we stop Spike and Drusilla, you and Buffy should work together," said Will, leaning back into the desk in his office as his students bustled about on the other side of the walls.

Sunshine and Buffy sat reluctantly in the chairs opposite Mr. Schuester desk and Santana sat behind him, scowling disdainfully at Sunshine.

"So you think that this Spike is trying to revive this Drusilla to health?" asked Sunshine.

Rachel and Tina stood by the door, curiously watching the two slayers.

"Yeah, and we've learned that Drusilla's not just evil, but-"

"Batshit crazy," said Santana.

"Right," said Will, "And if she's restored to full health, well, there's no telling what she might do."

"Then we should stop Spike," said Sunshine.

"Ooh, good plan, let's go," Buffy said, mockingly chipper.

"Buffy," scowled Will.

"It's a little bit more complicated than that, Powerpuff," Buffy smirked.

"Buffy's right," said Will, "Spike has called on the Order of Taraka to keep Buffy out of his way."

"The assassins?" Sunshine gasped, "I read about them in the writings of Dramius."

"Which volume?" asked Tina.

"Six, I think."

"How do you know all this?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

"I study," said Sunshine.

"So obviously you have a lot of free time."

"I study because it's required. The Slayer Handbook insists on it."

"There's a slayer handbook?" Tina asked, intensely interested.

"Handbook? What handbook? How come I don't have a handbook?" asked Buffy.

"Is there a t-shirt, too?" Santana smirked.

"I didn't think you'd need the handbook, Buffy," Will shrugged, "Listen, Figgins has been looking for you. I think it's a good idea if you make an appearance at the Career Fair."

Buffy nodded reluctantly. "Fine."

"Buffy is a student here?" asked Sunshine.

Buffy frowned. "Yes."

"Right. And I imagine you're a cheerleader as well," Sunshine smirked.

"What's wrong with cheerleading?" Buffy snapped.

"Nothing, it was a joke! You're seriously a cheerleader?"

"Also, Buffy, once all this is dealt with," said Mr. Schuester, "We'll have to start practising your solo for Sectionals."

"Buffy's getting a solo for Sectionals?" Rachel gasped.

Buffy groaned. "A duet, actually, with Sam. Will, don't you think I'm a little busy?"

"What are Sectionals?" asked Sunshine.

"Oh, a show choir competition for our glee club," said Will.

"I love show choir," Sunshine grinned.

Rachel frowned sourly by the door. "Too bad we're not recruiting any new members."

"Actually," Mr. Schuester frowned sheepishly, "I forgot to tell everyone in glee club, but, Finn has decided to quit."

The others looked surprised, and Rachel gazed down at the floor. "Because of me?" she asked.

"No, it's not you, Rachel. He has a really busy schedule with football."

"Mike and Sam and Puck play football and they didn't quit," Rachel shook her hair back, "You don't need to sugarcoat it, Mr. Schuester."

Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes, well, the point is, with Finn and Kurt gone, we only have eleven people left on the club and we need twelve to qualify for Sectionals."

"I'd be willing to sing," said Sunshine, "I have some experience singing in my school in the Philippines."

Will smiled happily. "No kidding? You should audition for me after we sort through this mess. Maybe if you're good enough, you can have that duet."

"What?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Now the new girl's getting a solo?" snapped Rachel.

"Well, Buffy, you didn't want a solo in the first place," said Will, "And Rachel, you can take a break from one competition."

"Fine," sighed Buffy, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a Career Fair to get to!"

Buffy rose from her seat and stormed out of the room, striding down the hall towards the student lounge, where a bunch of stalls would be set up for each different career opportunity.

"Buffy, wait up!" she heard Tina call behind her, and Buffy slowed down.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly as Tina and Rachel caught up with her, "The mini slayer really gets on my nerves."

"We can tell," Tina smiled subtly.

"She's just so... studious and Slayer Handbook-y and what was that about cheerleaders? What has she got against cheer, huh?"

Rachel nodded. "I completely agree. I thought I'd be glad to know someone who was even shorter than me, but I just find it unnerving."

"Will probably wishes I was Mega Studygirl," Buffy pouted.

"Buffy," Tina sighed, "You'll always be Mr. Schuester's favorite."

"I wonder," Buffy shrugged.

"Of course you will," said Rachel, "You're his slayer. The real slayer."

"It's not that. I just... I wonder if it would be so bad to be replaced."

"You mean, like, letting Sunshine take over?"

"Maybe. Like maybe after this whole Spike and the Order of Taraka thing, I can be like, 'Sunshine, you slay, I'm going to Disneyland'."

"But... Not forever, right?" Tina asked hopefully.

"No. Disneyland would get boring after a few months, but I could do other stuff," Buffy shrugged, "Career Fair stuff. Maybe I could even have a normal life."

The girls wandered into the Career Fair, watching other kids sign their names at the stalls and listen to adults talk about their careers.

"Ms. Pillsbury said I should look at law enforcement, duh, and environmental design," said Buffy.

"Environmental design? That's landscaping, right?" asked Rachel.

"It's my fault for ticking the shrub box," Buffy smirked, "But landscaping is so out, so law enforcement it is."

The girls' eyes wandered to a woman dressed in police gear at a stall, standing up and reading through a list.

"Alright, listen up and answer when I call your name," said the cop, "Buffy Summers."

Buffy reluctantly raised her hand and strolled over to the woman. The cop looked up at her, put down her checklist and whipped her gun out of its holster, pointing it at Buffy's head. Buffy darted down as the cop fired a shot, and the students around her shrieked and ran away in a frenzy. Buffy dodged forward and headbutted into the cops abs, throwing her to the ground. The cop fired shots wildly as Buffy struggled to reach the gun she was holding.

The gun fell out of the cop's hand and clattered to the floor, but the cop just kicked Buffy off of her and removed another gun from her ankle. Suddenly, Sunshine appeared and kicked the second gun out of the cop's hand and kicked her to the floor.

The cop sprang up and took a shocked Morgan Ru by the neck, taking a knife out of her pocket and holding it to the cheerleaders jugular. The cop backed away with Morgan in her grip, and then threw her down and ran out of the exit, Sunshine running after her.

"Buffy!" called Rachel, "It's Mike!"

Buffy turned towards her friends and rushed over to Rachel. They looked down at Mike, who was clutching his arm and wincing in pain. Tina crouched near him, tears stinging her brown eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Mike grimaced, "I mean, I'm shot. It's odd. And painful."

Sunshine approached. "She's gone," she said breathlessly.

Morgan Ru hobbled over to them , bewildered. "Was that a demonstration?" she asked.

xxx

"She was definitely one of the Taraka gang, Will, and way gun happy," said Buffy, leaning against Will's office desk.

"Is Mike okay?" asked Will.

"The paramedics said it was only a scrape, thank God," sighed Tina.

"The Taraka are definitely serious," said Santana, standing in the office with her arms folded.

Buffy glanced gratefully at Sunshine, who was standing by the door. "Fortunately for me, so is Sunshine."

"Seeing as you two are going to be so busy with the burden of your predetermined destinies, I don't think either of you are going to have any time to rehearse for Sectionals, so-"

"Rachel," Tina hissed, "Priorities."

"I've figured out the rest of the ritual," said Will, "It requires Drusilla's sire and it has to be done during the new moon."

"But that's tonight," said Sunshine.

"Exactly. I'm sure the assassin was here today to kill Buffy before she could put a stop to things."

"Wait," said Santana, looking grave, "They need Drusilla's sire? You mean, the vamp that made her?"

"Yes," said Will.

Santana groaned sheepishly as they looked at her. "Dammit... Drusilla's sire is Angel."

"What?" said Buffy, disbelieving, "But..."

"It was back when he didn't have a soul. I mean, it wasn't his fault. I sired Jacob when I didn't have a soul," Santana shrugged, "It's a vampire thing."

"Will this ritual kill him?" Buffy asked Will.

"Yeah," sighed Will, rubbing the back of his neck.

Santana clenched her jaw. "We need to find where this ritual is going to take place."

"We have five hours before sundown," said Buffy, "Don't worry, Santana, we'll save Angel."

"Angel?" asked Sunshine, "But our priority is to stop Drusilla."

"I agree with Sunshine," said Rachel, jutting her chin in the air.

"Of course you would, Streisand, you'd like nothing more than to see me miserable," Santana snapped at Rachel before turning to Sunshine, "Look, Thumbelina, you have your priorities, we have ours, and right now they mesh. So you can either help or you can get out of our way."

Sunshine sighed. "I'm with you," she said reluctantly.

"Good, 'cause I've had it," said Santana, "Spike is going down."

"You can't leave, Santana. Sunlight?" Buffy reminded her.

"Right," Santana nodded, "Sewers it is."

In the empty school, Santana, Tina, Rachel and Will sat around the office, engrossed in their books and computers. Sunshine, Buffy, Sam and Mike sat in the choir room, whittling stakes and sorting through a bunch of the medieval weaponry Mr. Schuester kept. Buffy found a crossbow in his stash, the one she'd always had her eye on, and was confident that she'd get to use it this time.

"So there are other students who know you are the slayer?" Sunshine asked Buffy as they whittled by the piano.

"Yep."

"Did anyone explain to you what secret identity means?"

"Nope. Must be in the handbook, right after the chapter about personality removal."

Sunshine placed a small, nimble hand on the crossbow.

"Be careful with that thing!" snapped Buffy.

"Maybe when this is over you can show me how to use it," Sunshine said hopefully.

Buffy smirked. "When this is over, I'm thinking Hawaiian pizza and teen movie fest. Possibly something from the Ringwald oeuvre."

"And the blond boy," said Sunshine, shyly looking over at her shoulder at the boys who were carving stakes and talking loudly about the Footloose remake, "Is that your boyfriend?"

Buffy nodded. "Sam. He's... enthusiastic, about all this supernatural stuff."

"Your life is very different than mine."

"You mean when I occasionally get the chance to have one? I guess so."

"I was raised by my watcher," said Sunshine, "I only get to visit my mom when I'm not training or studying."

"Really?"

Sunshine nodded. "I don't have any of the things you have. You get to be a slayer but you also get to have friends and a boyfriend and go to school and be a cheerleader and get solos in glee club. I don't have anything but my calling."

Buffy frowned mournfully.

"Don't feel sorry for me," said Sunshine.

"I guess it just sounds so lonely."

"I don't think about it," said Sunshine, "I know my training is going to benefit me and the world someday."

"Don't you ever get sick of training and just want to chill out with junk food and bad movies?"

"No," Sunshine shook her head, "I give my life to the calling. I follow the rules my watcher gives me and the technique I learned to fight with."

"Technique is great and all, but a slayer has to be creative. I always have to improvise and learn how to go with the flow. Don't get me wrong, you have potential-"

"Potential?"

"Wait a minute," something suddenly occurred to Buffy, "That bartender, Willy, the sleazoid you pummeled at the demon bar?"

"You think he might help us?"

"I think we might make him."

xxx

Buffy slammed Willy the bartender against his bar as the sun set, grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and holding him against the surface.

"Honest, I don't know where Angel is," he said, raising his hands.

"And this ritual? What have you heard?"

"Nothing! It's all hush hush."

"Just hit him, Buffy," Sunshine said impatiently.

Buffy shrugged and smirked at Willy. "She likes to hit."

"You know, maybe I did hear something about this ritual," said Willy, "Y-Yeah it's coming back to me. But I'd have to take you there."

"Let's go," said Buffy.

"First we have to return to your watcher," said Sunshine.

"Excuse me? While we run to Will, this whole thing could go down."

"But it's procedure."

"If by procedure you mean brainless. If we don't go now, Angel could die."

"Is that all your worried about?" asked Sunshine, "Some vampire's boyfriend."

"No, it's not all, but it's enough."

"This is what I feared. Your vampire friends cloud your judgement. We can't stop this ritual alone."

"Are you listening to me? He could die!"

"He's a vampire. He _should _die. Why am I the only one who sees it?"

Buffy glared at Sunshine and whipped around, tugging Willy away with her.

xxx

There was a big, stony chapel just on the border of Lima that Willy had dragged her to, leading her down a drafty hallway lit with a few red candles, paintings of saints and apostles leering down at her.

"Here we go," said Willy, "Don't ever say your good friend Willy don't come through in a pinch."

Buffy followed him around the corner and her heart stopped when she saw four bulky figures looming over her, one being the female cop who'd almost shot her and her friends earlier at the Career Fair. Willy smirked at them.

"Don't ever say your good friend Willy don't come through in a pinch."

The four assassins wasted no time in grabbing at each of Buffy's limbs. She struggled futilely against their iron grips as they lifted her off the ground and carried her through the hallway, following Willy. He strode into the main mass hall of the church, where Buffy widened her eyes to see Angel tied up at the alter, his shirt off and sweat and bruises against his pale, toned skin. Drusilla was next to him, smiling malevolently and Spike was holding a book. The bleached vampire looked up from his old manuscript and frowned, his face wrinkled and demonic.

"Here's your slayer," said WIlly, his hands on his hips.

"You moron," frowned Spike, "You bring her here? Now?"

"You said you wanted her!"

"In the crowd, pinhead! I wanted her dead!"

"That's not what I heard! Word was, there was a bounty on her dead or alive."

"You were wrong, Willy."

"Let go of Angel!" said Buffy, struggling against her captors.

Spike frowned at the slayer. "It bugs me, too. Don't worry, in the next five minutes he should be dead. Don't worry about Angel, though, he's got something you don't have."

"What's that?" Buffy asked through gritted teeth, glaring at Spike.

"Five minutes," he said gravely, "Patrice?"

On Spike's command, the cop removed her gun from her gun strap and pointed it at Buffy. Before she could shoot, a wooden panel of the wall broke open and Sunshine was spiralling in, looking even tinier than usual as she flitted through the air. She crashed in the Taraka assassins and freed Buffy from their grip.

"Who the Hell is this?" demanded Spike.

"It's your lucky day, Spike," said Buffy.

"Two slayers," said Sunshine.

While Sunshine fended off Spike, Buffy chose to attack the cop, who she was surprised to find had retractable knives up her sleeve. Buffy widened her eyes at the daggers the cop was wielding, until suddenly the cop staggered back, an arrow just having blown through her chest. Buffy looked up and saw Will standing at the entrance, a crossbow in his hand and a serious look on his face. Sam, Mike, Tina and Rachel were gathered behind him with an assortment of weapons in their hands.

Buffy didn't have time to worry about her friends, so she decided to leave them to it while she fought another member of Taraka. The last she could tell, Sam had started a fist fight with one of them and Rachel had jumped on another ones back, which would have looked hilarious to anyone who wasn't already trying to fight a vampire or an assassin. Buffy drove a stake through the abdomen of the assassin she'd been fighting, and looked back at Sunshine, who Spike was belting viciously.

"Sunshine!" Buffy called, "Switch!"

Sunshine flipped around and used Buffy's back as a catapult to send her jumping in the other direction to fight one of Spike's lackeys.

Spike leered at Buffy. "I'd rather be fighting you, anyway."

"Mutual," Buffy glared, sending high kicks to Spike's chest and face. He blocked one of the kicks with the back of his steely arm and gave her a blow to the stomach. Buffy recoiled, and then lunged forward and spun Spike around, throwing him behind a pew. With just a little bit of time on her hands, she rushed over to the altar and began tearing at the ropes that held Angel's hands behind his bag. The vampire groaned, weak and disoriented. Before Buffy could finish freeing him, Spike had tugged her from behind and threw her out of the way.

Buffy groaned, clutching the back of her head, and felt Will's steady hands helping her up. Spike, still up at the altar, snatched a red candle from its holder and threw it towards the heavy drapes that hung over the stained glass window, sending the fabric into flames. With fire separating them, Buffy could only watch as Spike lifted Drusilla into his arms and fled, leaving Angel at the burning altar.

Buffy grabbed the crossbow out of Will's other hand and swung it high above her head, throwing the whole contraption at Spike. He stumbled forward, with Drusilla in his arms and fell into a brittle church organ. The foundation of the organ started to break apart and the entire monstrous instrument fell into a mound on top of Spike and Drusilla, covering them completely.

"I'm good," Buffy sighed to herself, before to turned toward the altar where Angel was still struggling to rise. "Angel!" she cried at her friends, "We need to get him out!"

Sunshine frowned with determination.

"Cheerleader!" she said to Buffy, "Lift!"

Sunshine leapt at Buffy and with cheerleading and ass-kicking instinct, Buffy cupped her foot and lifted the tiny girl into the air. Sunshine hugged herself into a ball and flew through the air, over the flames and landed impressively on her feet on the other side. Buffy watched, distressed, as Sunshine lifted Angel, looking twice her size, over her shoulder and started to break through a stained glass window and tug Angel out.

"Let's meet them on the other side," said Buffy, turning away with her friends.

xxx

Buffy picked at her fingernails in the backstage of the auditorium of the Lima town hall.

"Stop that," Sunshine demanded with a smirk, "I should be the one who's nervous. I have the solo."

Buffy grinned. "Don't remind Rachel."

The girls stood behind the layers of red velvet curtains separating them from the stage and listened to a competing team belt out 'Call Me Maybe'.

"We've got this in the bag," Buffy nodded to herself.

The others were leaning over vanity tables, getting their makeup perfect, and some of the guys were fixing their ties. Mr. Schuester had picked out beautiful two-tone chiffon dresses for the girls to wear, probably with the help of Ms. Pillsbury.

"Thank you, again," Buffy said to Sunshine, other show choir junkies milling around, getting ready for their performances, "You were amazing. I'm actually kind of sad that you have to go back to the Philippines when all this is over."

Sunshine shrugged with a smile. "It was fun while it lasted."

"Yeah, well, sure made my job easier."

Sunshine wrinkled her brow. "Why do you always do that?"

"What?"

"Talk about slaying like it's a job. It's not. It's who you are."

"Did you get that from your handbook?"

"No. From you."

Buffy shrugged. "I guess it's something I really can't fight. I'm a freak."

"You're not the only freak."

"Not anymore."

Over Sunshine's shoulder, Buffy's eyes widened to see Santana approaching in a red dress with matching lipstick, smiling subtly.

"Santana," Buffy blinked, "What are you doing here?"

Santana sighed as she glanced at both slayers. "I wanted to thank you. Both of you," she said, and smirked at Sunshine, "Even you, Mini Slayer. You saved Angel, and... well, thanks."

Sunshine shrugged. "It's my duty. Except I'm not telling my watcher about it. It's too strange that a slayer is friends with vampires."

"Tell me about it," Santana smirked, "But, really. I know it was something you didn't have to do, or want to do, but you did and if it hadn't been for you and Buffy and those dumb glee clubbers... Just, thanks, okay? Now let's not get our periods all over each other."

Buffy chuckled at Santana blushing. "Do you want to stay backstage and listen to us perform?" she asked.

"Actually, I bought myself a ticket," said Santana, "Quinn told me that Brittany had a dance solo during one of the numbers. I wanted to see her."

Buffy smiled sympathetically. "Why don't you go talk to her before we have to go on?"

"I don't know..."

"Come on. Talking to her won't hurt."

Santana bit her lip and nodded. "Where is she?"

"The green room. I'll take you there," said Buffy.

Buffy dropped Santana off at the New Direction's green room and left to give her and Brittany a little privacy. Santana breathed in deep and walked in, glad to see that her friend was alone, but confused to find her standing in a corner, her face to the wall.

"Brittany?"

Brittany turned a little, looking surprised when she was Santana.

"San... What are you doing here?" she asked, looking a little dismayed.

"I came to watch you dance," Santana said gently.

Brittany frowned and turned all the way around, leaning her back against the wall and frowning miserably. "I'm not going to dance."

"Why not?"

"Because... If I mess up, we all lose. And I know I'm going to mess up."

"You won't mess up, Britt," said Santana, sidling over to the girl and putting a sympathetic arm on her shoulder, "You're the best dancer I've ever seen."

Brittany pouted. "Then why don't you ever dance with me anymore?"

Santana frowned, guiltily, and stared into Brittany's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Britt. I'm sorry that I don't get to see you as much as I want to. I miss you, I do. But we can't be together."

Brittany sighed, irritable. "Why not? I know, you can't be happy, but... If you can't be happy, then neither can I."

Tears swelled up in Santana's eyes and she tried to look away, to blink them out. "You have Artie..."

"So just be my friend," pleaded Brittany, "Like we used to be. We don't have to be happy, but we have to be better than _this_."

Santana bit her lip at Brittany, who looked torn. Damn it, sometimes the girl just made so much sense.

"I want to be your friend again," nodded Santana, "I want to. I am. I'm your friend."

"You are?" Brittany asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, I just... things have to be different, okay? We have to do normal friend stuff," said Santana, tears still stuck in her eyes, "We can't kiss or cuddle or... anything. You know? We can't go back there. You know that, right? Brittany?"

Brittany nodded, frowning. "I don't care. I'll be your friend. Your normal friend... What do normal friends do?"

Santana sighed, trying to smile despite the tears. "For one thing, when a normal friend gets their own dance solo at a glee club competition, they be brave so that their other normal friend can sit in the crowd and watch them and think about how lucky she is to have such a great, normal friend."

Brittany smiled sadly. "Do normal friends go to Sectionals' after parties together?"

"You bet," Santana grinned, and held back a flood of tears as the blonde pulled her into a hug.


	46. The Boyfriend

Santana let herself into Angel's apartment, unannounced, as was habitual by now. The older vampire was reading a dusty book on the second hand couch he'd moved into the living room space. Although he was perpetually frozen in his early twenties, he had a kind of stately wisdom that earned him some reverence, even from Santana, who was so rarely impressed.

"What are you reading?" she asked half-heartedly, slamming the apartment door behind her.

"Dickens," he replied, and tossed the book aside with little care. He'd had centuries to read his favorite novels, but socializing was still a novelty.

"Quinn reads that stuff, too," said Santana, hopping up and crouching on his arm chair, absentmindedly picking at the chipped red nail polish on her fingernail.

Angel cocked his head to the side and looked at her with curiosity, wondering how she could fit in so fluidly with another human being. Santana had had to give up her girlfriend and her high school because she walked with the night, but her relationship with Quinn Fabray had only grown into unspoken sisterhood.

"What's up?" Angel asked casually.

Santana sighed. "Nothing," she said dramatically.

"Doesn't sound like nothing," Angel prodded, leaning forward on the couch, "Are Quinn and Sofia okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine."

"Brittany?"

Santana sheepishly bit her lip. "I think I made a mistake."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't be Brittany's friend. Everyone knows it. Just because we want to make it work doesn't mean we can," Santana rambled in frustration, "How are we ever supposed to be normal friends doing normal things, when... It's just not possible. She wants me to see a movie today. Something about the magic of Christmas."

"It's Christmastime again?"

Santana rolled her dark eyes. "You need to get a place with windows, hermit. This town is caked in snow and gaudy red lightbulbs."

"Why can't you see a movie with Brittany? It's normal and not to mention, impersonal. All you have to do is sit back and watch."

"Yeah, in a big dark room with her sitting inches away from me. I can't handle that."

"I think you'll do just fine with a little willpower."

"You don't get it," Santana shook her head, "When it comes to Brittany, I have no willpower. It's like if I'm Scooby Doo and Brittany is a Scooby Snack. If I get one taste, I'm gonna do anything for more."

Angel grimaced at the analogy. "Scooby Doo... The cartoon dog?"

Santana glared at him. "I told you you wouldn't get it."

"Santana," Angel sighed paternally, "I know you're afraid to lose control again, but going to the movies with Brittany isn't going to be the end of the world."

"You don't know that. Anything can start the apocalypse around here."

"It's no good tearing yourself apart, trying to keep yourself away from the one you love."

"No good? Aren't we trying to avoid true happiness here, or am I mistaking you for another vampire with a soul?"

Angel smirked slightly. "In all my two and a half centuries, I have not reached true happiness. I don't think you need to be as cautious as you think."

Santana frowned and wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. "Have you ever been in love?"

Angel's smile disappeared. "No," he replied reluctantly, "I can't say I have."

xxx

Buffy pulled her knit cap tighter as she walked to Rovello Drive in the darkening evening. The snow was falling hard in Lima this winter, and Buffy used it as an excuse to hit every department store's winter-wear sale.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Rachel huffed beside her as they lazily walked along the sidewalk.

"Rachel, please. I've known these people longer than you and I think I know the dynamics that would work in their relationships," Tina shrugged simply.

"Maybe you've become so comfortable with their dynamics that you aren't willing to try something more risky and interesting."

"I'm more than willing to be risky and interesting! What I'm not interested in is a relationship that will inevitably fail. Buffy?"

Buffy shivered in her parka. "Huh?"

"Who would Allison be better off with? Scott or Jackson?" asked Tina.

Buffy looked blankly at each of her friends. "Are these people we know?"

Tina rolled her eyes. "Teen Wolf."

"Oh, right... I don't know. I haven't been watching a lot of TV lately."

"You seem distracted," Rachel noted.

"I was just-"

"Thinking?" asked Tina.

Buffy smirked and shook her head. "Not really. Just having happy non-thoughts. I like it when things are quiet around here."

"True," Rachel smiled, and buried her hands in the pockets of her thick white peacoat, "With Spike and Drusilla gone things have been really slow on the Hellmouth and oh my gosh I'm completely jinxing it now, aren't I?"

"We'll let you off with a warning," smirked Buffy as they approached her quiet suburban house.

"Are we sure there are no more Tarakan assassins coming after you?" asked Tina.

"Santana's sources say the contract is off," said Buffy, removing her keys from her pocket as the three girls stepped onto the classically decorated porch.

She stuck her house key into the lock on the door only for it to swing open, the wreath hung on it swaying slightly. Buffy frowns frowned and looks looked up, perturbed, into the seemingly welcoming scene of her dark hallway. She clenched her jaw, her instincts telling her that something was off.

"Wait here," she said sternly to her friends, and trekked into her home, her shoulders rigid and her eyes narrowed.

She slid her stake down her sleeve, ready to whip out at any moment. Suddenly, her head jerked to the direction of the kitchen as she heard her mother's voice calling, "No!"

Buffy pushed the door to the kitchen open fiercely, tensely reviewing the scene in front of her. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she saw her mother standing near the island counter, her hair curled and her makeup done. A man was with her.. Buffy's eyes only left his to briefly glance at a bottle of wine and a wine glass, half full on the counter.

"Mom?" Buffy prodded, glancing at her mom before looking back at the man.

He looked harmless enough, although he was most definitely a fashion crime victim. Denim jeans, denim jacket and a forest green polo that perfectly matched his green baseball hat that read 'Emerald Dreams'. His hair was the main offender. A ginger mullet, hidden under his cap, and matching the orange fur that bearded his face.

"I thought I heard..." Buffy trailed off.

"I broke a wine glass," said Joyce, blushing as she became flustered, "You're home early."

The man smiled at her, leaning against the island counter. His nonchalance only made Buffy more uncomfortable.

"Hey," he said, tipping his hat at her.

"Hi," Buffy said flatly, looking him up and down.

"Oh, uh, this is my daughter, Buffy," said Joyce, "Buffy... This is Darren."

Buffy grimaced as Rachel and Tina slowly followed in.

"Girls, nice to see you," said Joyce, a little relieved by their interruption, "Darren, these are Buffy's friends, Rachel and Tina. Girls, this is Darren."

Darren smirked charmingly. "Pleasure."

Not five minutes later, Darren was frying mini-pizzas in a pan over the stove that Buffy and her mother used so rarely. Rachel and Tina were on his either side, watching his recipe unfold as Joyce swept up the broken wineglass and dumped it in the trash. Buffy leaned into her mother and frowning, said, "So I see this is why we've been splashing out on Astroturf."

Joyce grimaced. "I was just waiting for the right time to introduce you. He's a good guy."

Buffy folded arms and looked around at her friends schmoozing with Darren. Rachel watched with intense interest as Darren sprinkled salt into his frying pan.

"Fried vegan pizzas," she marvelled, "My dads are always trying to make new vegan dishes for me, but vegan pizza is something they've always struggled to master."

Darren smirked. "My uncle owned a pizza place. Only place I knew that made vegan pizzas actually taste good. The trick is to fry it in herbs and olive oil after you bake it."

"You're a culinary genius," Rachel beamed.

Darren looked up and smirked, catching Buffy's eye. "Hungry?" he asked her.

"No, thanks," she replied, leaning against the refridgerator.

Darren dolled up some pizzas for Rachel and Tina and sauntered over to Buffy. "I want to apologize," he said, scratching the orange scruff on his face, "I didn't want us to meet like this. I really do like your mom. I know you're the most important thing to her, and darn, that makes you pretty important to me, too."

Joyce smiled lovingly over Buffy's shoulder. "I really want you to be okay with this, Buffy."

"_We _really want you to be okay with this," smiled Darren, wrinkled crinkling around his eyes.

Buffy clenched her jaw. "I'm okay?"

"You are?"

"I am."

xxx

Rachel tightened her grip on her backpack and weaved through her fellow classmates, trying to make her way to class at the south side of school. She seemed to shrink into herself, hyper aware that everyone was looking at her differently. People had always looked at her differently. When she started high school, people looked at her with mockery and disdain and if she was lucky, intrigue. When she started dating Finn, people had looked at her with confusion and jealousy and even hatred. Now?

Now that Finn had more or less publicly humiliated her and broken her heart, people looked at her with more condescending pity than she could take. Every sarcastic smirk and weary shake of the head said, "We knew it wouldn't last. You should have known." They were right. She should have known. She hated herself for thinking that she could have lived her whole life being adored by a handsome quarterback. She couldn't wait for Winter winter break to start soon so she could avoid the patronizing stares.

Just as she was about to escape the unfriendliness of the school hallway and get to her classroom, a large figure sidestepped her.

"Finn!" Rachel gasped, her face flushing red.

He stood there, a slight smile on his face while he tried to look apologetically guilty, his hands behind his back.

"Hey," he said, his voice respectfully low.

Rachel breathed through her nose and tried not to look at him. What did he want? To taunt her with the knowledge that he'd rather cheat on her with her worst enemy than wait for her to be ready? To beg for her back? _Please, I dare you, _she thought to herself. _Show these people that it's you who doesn't deserve me. _For the most part, she was one who wanted to be reassured that it was him that didn't deserve her. She was never so sure.

After all, Finn had been more than a boyfriend. He'd been the thing that made her feel like she was someone more than a hopeless, annoying, big-nosed loud-mouth. He'd made her feel _cool_.

"What do you want?" she asked, meaning to sound icy, but just sounding vulnerable.

"I want to give you something," Finn said, grinning as he showed her the small square box in his large hand.

"What?" Rachel asked, staring at the gift wrapped in Christmas paper, "Why?"

"I bought in online, for Christmas. Before... You know."

Rachel grimaced, feeling awkward. "Well, that was before. I don't want it now."

Finn sighed, still holding out his hand. "Come on, Rachel. I can't give it to anyone else. It belongs to you."

Rachel bit her bottom lip and took the box from his hand, removing the lid to see a thin gold chain with a small gold star attached to it. She looked away from it, hoping he wouldn't see tears coming to her eyes, and shoved the box back into his hand.

"Thank you, Finn," she said quietly, "It was truly a lovely gesture. But I think you should return it."

"What?" Finn wrinkled his brow.

"It would be wrong of me to except a gift from you. I would be leading you on."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're never getting back together, Finn. Please accept that."

Finn bristled. "...Rachel, Christmas is a time for forgiveness."

"I'm Jewish."

"Whatever, I mean... Can we just talk?"

"We've already talked, Finn. I can't talk to you anymore, it hurts too much..."

"Please, just go to The Lima Bean with me after school."

"No, Finn. I'm busy. Now that you quit glee club, we have to find a twelfth member-"

"Please stop making excuses."

"It's not an excuse!" Rachel stopped talking as someone suddenly slid their arm gently around hers, tugging her ever so slightly away. She looked to her right and was astonished to see that Quinn was smiling blithely, wrapping her arm around Rachel's.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, deceptively sweet, "But Rachel, I really need to go over the choreography for the South Lima Park Winter Show and you're the only one who has it down."

Rachel opened and closed her mouth, wordlessly for a few moments before uttering. "Y-Yes. Sure. Let's go to the choir room."

With Finn glaring after them, Quinn and Rachel sauntered down the hallway and around the corner, out of sight, arm in arm.

"Thank you," Rachel breathed when Finn could no longer see them.

xxx

Blanketed by the darkness, Buffy slammed the night's first vampire into a picnic table, breaking it into shards under his weight and force. Buffy picked up a slab of wood as the vampire struggled to get up, and instead of staking him, she repeatedly beat him over the head with it.

Sam winced, sitting on top of an almost ancient marble gravestone. This was one of the first times that he'd been allowed to watch his girlfriend patrol, but he was pretty sure she wasn't normally so violent about it.

"Buffy, I think he's..." Sam winced again as Buffy rammed the vamp in her ribs with her elbow, "Staking time, right?"

Buffy raised her stake high in the air and stake the vampire with so much force that she almost fell through his ashes. She whirled around to Sam, her shoulder length hair bouncing over her shoulder.

"Any others?" she asked fervently, looking around.

"For their sakes, I hope not," Sam smirked.

Buffy frowned. "I kill vampires. That's my job."

"Right, but, you don't usually beat them to a bloody pulp beforehand... Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Buffy said through gritted teeth, "I just need another vamp to slay. Vampires are creeps!"

"I'm assuming that's why you slay them."

"People are perfectly happy and getting along and then vampires come in and kill people and take over your house and make stupid little vegan pizzas and everyone is like, 'ooh, wow'..."

"Buffy, this subtext is really starting to become... text. I'm assuming this is about Darren."

Buffy frowned and folded her arms. "I just don't get why everyone likes him so much. So, he's a great cook. What does that tell you about him as a person? I mean, all I see so far is someone with an okay job, whose nice and polite and who really likes my mom."

"He sounds awful."

"He's just a little too clean."

"I think we're maybe getting into Sigmund Freud territory. Call Rachel, she'll tell you the exact same thing. In detail. Seperation anxiety, the mother figure taken away, conflict with the father figure-"

"He is _not _my father figure!"

Sam raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry."

"No, it's just... I have a lot going on in my life and I don't need some new guy showing up."

"Yeah. But maybe your mom does."

Buffy winced sheepishly. "Fine, if you're gonna use wisdom..."

"Loneliness is scary."

"And what would you know? Your parents are happily married."

Sam shrugged. "And I could never imagine my mom with someone other than my dad. So I know it's gotta be scary for you. But it's gotta be scary for your mom, too."

Buffy folded her arms. "Fine. My mom needs a guy. Why does it have to be Darren?"

"You have someone else in mind?"

"...Dad," Buffy pouted, "Fine. Reality check. I'll give Darren a chance."

xxx

Santana brushed the wet snow out of her hair as she walked into South Lima Movie Theatre, the smell of buttery popcorn overwhelming her senses and making her feel slightly nauseous. Although, to be fair, she would have been nauseous anyways.

She didn't understand how she was supposed to sit there watching something called "The Christmas Wish", pretending to be Brittany's friend. There was so much left unsaid that Santana could never just erase from her memory. She and Brittany had never been official, but they'd also never been platonic. She's my best friend, thought Santana, Or she was.

Santana stood in the lobby and shivered, keeping a watchful eye on the entrance until she saw Brittany approaching, looking adorable in a pink knit cap. She smiled brightly when she saw Santana, and Santana's stomach churned. She always looked so innocent, so childish. It was what Santana loved about her but it also made her angry. Everyone wanted to take care of Brittany. Protect her. Make the hard decisions for her. Brittany had no idea what it felt like to really suffer. Not like Santana had suffered. Not like Quinn. Or Angel. Or the slayer.

"Hi," Santana smiled wearily.

"Hi," Brittany smiled widely and gripped Santana in a hug, "I'm so glad you came."

"Of course I did," said Santana. _Of course I did_, thought Santana, _I'd go anywhere you asked me to. You know that._

"This is gonna be great," Brittany smiled.

"Yeah," said Santana, trying to make enthusiasm overshadow her anxiety, "Just the two of us."

"The three of us," Brittany grinned.

"Huh?"

Brittany turned to her side and Santana looked over her shoulder to see Artie Abrams wheeling over with a puffy parka draped over his round shoulders.

"Artie," Santana grimaced, "Great."

xxx

"Where did you learn to play guitar, Sam?"

"I taught myself when I was ten."

Buffy held her golf club close to her chest, like a shield, as she watched her mother attempt to get her ball into a big, wooden, rotating cuckoo clock. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept tabs on her boyfriend as he shamelessly schmoozed with Darren. She mused that maybe it'd be easier to get along with her mom's new boyfriend if everyone didn't like him so damn much.

"No way, man? That's real talent," grinned Darren, "You should jam with my band sometime."

"You have a band?" Sam asked, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, when I'm not putting in the hours at Emerald Dreams, I'm rockin' with my Journey tribute band."

Sam looked at Darren with awe and Buffy rolled her eyes. She wished she and Sam had never been invited to this weird, stupid, mini golf double date with her mom. Mini golfing in Winter winter was not fun under any circumstances. Shivering in the cold while she waited for her turn and watched Darren try to teach her mother how to swing. No thanks. She jumped slightly as Darren put his rough hand down on her shoulder.

"You know how to pick 'em, Buffy," he smiled, "Sam is a keeper."

Sam beamed, gripping his golf club.

"Yeah," said Buffy, stiffly trying to smile.

"You must spend every second with this charmer," said Darren, and slung his arm over Sam's shoulders.

"I guess," Buffy shrugged.

"You guess?"

"Well, Buffy likes to focus on her... studies," Sam said unconvincingly.

"Well, that's great," smiled Darren, "That must mean your grades will pick up soon."

Buffy frowned sternly. "My grades? How do you know about my grades?"

Joyce turned to them, dragging her golf club along with her.

"I told him," she said innocently, "He wants to know all about you. It's a good thing."

Buffy frowned as their group approached a crudely built wooden castle.

"Your turn, Buff," said Sam.

Buffy walked to the tee and gripped her club, giving it a swing with little effort. Even without exerting much of her strength, the ball swung wild, over the castle and into the snow-capped bushes in the turf, out of sight.

"Bad luck, little lady," smirked Darren, putting his arms on his hands.

"We won't count it," Joyce waved flippantly.

"We won't?" asked Darren.

"Well... It's just mini golf."

"Sure, but rules are rules. I don't mean to overstep my bounds. I just think there's a right and wrong, is all."

Joyce looked shyly at her daughter. "He has a point..."

Buffy glanced sternly between Darren and her mother. "Yeah. Whatever. I'll go hit it from the rough."

Buffy stalked away and disappeared behind the castle, out of sight of the others as she searched for her small yellow ball among the frozen bushes. She bent her knees and peered through the frail shrubbery, navigating around the rough when she bumped into someone tall.

"Ooh, sorry-... Finn," she blinked up at her bulky classmate.

"Buffy. Hey," he said, looking down at her, "What are you doing?"

"Looking for my golf ball," she replied.

"Me, too," he nodded, "Want help?"

Buffy awkwardly bit her lip. "I, um..."

"Right. No, I get it. You're not supposed to be talking to me. Don't worry, I just got dragged along on a stupid family thing. I'll leave soon."

Buffy ducked her head down sheepishly, staring at her shoes. "Me, too," she said, looking up at the boy, "Stupid family thing. My mom has a new boyfriend, so..."

"Oh. Yeah... I saw Darren walk in with you guys."

"You know Darren?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, half expecting Finn to be a big hero-worshipping fan of Darren's Journey tribute band or something stupid.

"Yeah," Finn frowned, "He used to date my mom."

Buffy widened her eyes and stared up at Finn. "He did?!"

"Yeah. So, I guess I kind of know what you're going through, I guess."

"You didn't like him?"

Finn looked around as if Darren would be watching. "Not much. At first he was just..."

"Annoying?"

"Yeah. Everyone liked him so freaking much. Then he got pretty controlling."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, he'd start to get super strict about my grades and who I hung out with. He'd start getting rid of picture of my dad. And pictures of me."

Buffy bristled. "Did your mom break up with him?"

"No," Finn said bitterly, "All she did was defend him. I've never seen her so obsessed with a guy, you know?"

"Yeah," Buffy frowned, "I know. So what happened, if your mom didn't dump him?"

"He dumped her. He left her for some other chick who didn't have a kid. My mom was pretty upset for a while. Really upset. But she got over it."

"And what happened to the girl he left her for?"

Finn wrinkled his brow. "I don't know..."

Buffy leaned down, spotting her golf ball and picking it up. "Alright... Thanks, Finn."

"No problem," he said, plucking the ball from her hand and walking over to the turf, dropping it into the hole, "Good game."

Buffy smiled gratefully as Finn walked away. "Hey, look at that," she smiled to herself, looking down at her golf ball, "Hole in two."

"I beg to differ."

Buffy turned around, her eyes wide with surprise as Darren neared her, his green Emerald Dreams cap fit tightly over his ginger mullet.

"So fine my score, or whatever," Buffy sulked.

"I think you're missing the point, little lady," he frowned, his hands on his hips, "There is right and there is wrong."

Buffy frowned as Darren started tapping his golf club against his leather shoe. "It's just a game."

"Right," Darren smirked, "Just a game. Bend the rules. Well, I'm not wired that way and I don't stand for that kind of tomfoolery in my house."

Buffy grimaced. "Good thing this isn't your house."

"Don't make me slap that smart ass mouth of yours."

Buffy's mouth dropped open at Darren's sudden aggression, when Sam and her mother appeared from around the castle, oblivious smiles on their faces.

"What's taking you two so long?" grinned Joyce.

"Just foolin' around," smiled Darren, turning to them, "What do you say we eat? I made cookies."

"Ooh, chocolate chip?" asked Sam.

"You bet."

xxx

Buffy stomped down the stairs, barefoot and her hair in a disastrously messy ponytail, a vast contrast to her mother, who was beaming like a 50s sitcom housewife. She swept across the kitchen, her lips tinted a girlish pink as she straightened a jug of orange juice and plate of cinnamon buns.

"Good morning, sunshine," Joyce smiled too widely.

"Hi," Buffy said flatly, leaning against the island counter, still in a pair of girl's boxers and a tank top.

"Don't these sticky buns smell good?"

Buffy plucked up a cinnamon bun and tore off a piece, smell the sweet, buttery scent.

"Darren made them."

Buffy grimaced and set the bun back down without taking a bite.

"What?" Joyce sighed, irritated.

"I'd just like to eat something that Darren didn't make."

"What kind of attitude is that?"

"Look, I know you think Darren is great and everything-"

"He's gone out of his way to be nice to you and you couldn't say two words to him yesterday. I don't expect you to love him like I do, but you can at least treat him with some decency."

Joyce pick up a cinnamon bun and tore it into small pieces with nimble, determined hands, eating them quickly with a stern, angered expression on her face. Buffy just stared at her mom, her brow furrowed.

"You... love him?"

Joyce stopped mid-chew and looked at Buffy with a little bit of surprise. "I... That just kind of slipped out. Buffy, it's not like men beat down the door when you're a-"

"Single parent?"

"I would never have anything to do with someone who didn't care about you. Darren cares about you. Why can't you see that?"

Buffy grimaced. "He dated Finn's mom!"

Joyce looked vaguely surprised, before shaking her head with amusement. "I'm not going to pretend Darren didn't have a life before he met me. Lima is a small town."

"He threatened me."

Buffy was surprised that Joyce just smiled. "Now you're grasping at straws, Buffy. Darren would never do that."

"Yes, he did. He said he was going to slap me."

"No, he did not. He told me what happened. He caught you cheating at mini golf, didn't he?"

"Oh my God, I kicked my ball in, throw me in jail!"

"He didn't say anything about it in front of Sam, did he?"

Buffy shook her head in frustrated confusion. "No, but-"

"I think that was pretty decent of him," she said, swallowing another bite of her cinnamon bun, "That reminds me, Darren's making dinner tonight. Be here at six."

xxx

With her backpack slung around her shoulder, Quinn trudged through the snow up to Dudley Road after school, a frown on her face. Jesse was _supposed _to pick her up, like he did on the days they were supposed to train, but he never showed, leaving her freezing and wet outside of McKinley High. She trekked up his stately driveway, making footprints in the icy slush with her high leather zip boots. Jesse may have decided to ditch her today, but she wasn't going to let him off that easy. Just before she could make it to the steps that led to his white front door, it flung open and Jesse stormed out, looking a little cold in just a light black sweater.

Quinn was surprised by the anger on his face as he quickly stomped down the steps of the porch. He froze in his spot as he caught sight of her standing there, and although he didn't smile, his face softened considerably.

"Quinn..." he said, slightly confused.

She blinked at him and tried to muster up her previous anger, before he had stormed out here. "You didn't pick me up."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I must have forgot," he said, looking genuinely apologetic.

"Yeah, well, I had to walk all the way here in the snow."

"I apologise," he said politely, "You must be freezing."

Quinn shrugged. "No. I'm fine. I... warmed myself."

"Right," Jesse smirked, "Pyro."

"Don't call me that. What's up with you, anyways? Why did you storm out like that? Did the maid forget to pick up your dry cleaning?"

Jesse frowned. "Jennifer came back home today."

"Welcome home, big sister."

"It's not her, it's my parents. They keep treating me like this huge failure. Like I should have amounted to more by now. I'm only nineteen. We had a fight."

Quinn shuffled awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Whatever. I'd rather not discuss it."

"Okay. If you want, we can train at my house..."

Jesse wrinkled his nose. "Your house? With the vampire and her mother?"

"Her name is Santana," Quinn bristled, "But yeah. Or are you scared?"

Jesse smiled. "Your house it is."


	47. The Machine

**a/n: Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys more than anything! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Quinn led Jesse into her house where they wiped their boots on the welcome matt and shook the snow off of the shoulders of their jackets. Quinn hung both of their jackets up and shivered in her Cheerios uniform. They were issued red and white jerseys and thigh-high knit socks in the wintertime, but it didn't do a whole lot of good in the icy weather. Quinn noticed Jesse looking around, his lip curled downwards distastefully and his idle hands tapping their fingers against the side of his leg in some sort of expression of paranoia.

Quinn smiled to herself. To her, Jesse could always prove to be a bit of an anomaly. Inhumanly wicked

and selfish, yet garishly vulnerable. An equivocal capacity for love. An indescribable disconnection from the rest of society. Her friend and her enemy. He sure wasn't easy to understand, much less articulately describe.

Quinn put her finger to her lips, trying to make sure he stayed quiet. She stood in front of him and crept to the staircase, silently leading him with her. She winced as she heard the kitchen door open at the other end of the hall.

"Queen?" Sofia called, strutting forward in the hallway, her big brown eyes darting between Quinn and

Jesse.

Quinn sighed. "Hi, Sofia."

She noted that the corner of Jesse's lip twitched in a grin as he calculatingly looked at Sofia. She briefly

wondered whether he found her attractive or gaudy, in a blouse patterned with blue roses that hugged her curves and made her bosom look like it was ready to bust.

"This is Jesse," said Quinn, after a moment of awkward silence, "We were just going upstairs to study."

Sofia's expression was, if anything, searching, as she continued to glance between the two teenagers.

"Jaysee," Sofia over-pronounced in her thick accent, "Nice to meet jou."

Jesse smiled widely, like a shark, Quinn thought. "My pleasure," he said, a took Sofia's hand, kissing it

gently.

Sofia blushed and finally broke an eager smile at Jesse. Quinn just rolled her eyes and tried not to smile,

despite how much it amused her. Though ruthless and condescending, Jesse was nothing if not charming. He was someone you wanted to steer clear of, for sure, but unlike Puckerman, Jesse St. James was the boy you brought home to mama. Quinn remembered that even when they were kids, her own mother had been so taken with Jesse. "Is that your little boyfriend, Lucy? Will you and Jesse get married someday? Lucy St. James has a ring to it, huh?" Quinn supposed her mom was just excited that a boy as adorable as Jesse was so interested in a girl as... plain, as Quinn. Of course, he'd never been interested like _that_.

"Come, come," Sofia said, waving her arm and gesturing for them to follow her to the kitchen.

"Uh, Sofia, we really need to study-"

"No no no, jou just got home from tha cold. I make soup."

Quinn clenched her jaw and followed Sofia - and Jesse - into the kitchen. She wasn't sure whether Sofia

met that she made soup or that she would make soup now, but Quinn was certain she and Jesse would not be able to escape her radar. And she didn't know what she was being so secretive about, anyways. Sofia knew that Quinn was a witch. This was a very pro-supernatural family, despite the fact that Sofia brothers were raised as vampire hunters. Now, Sofia was the mother - for all intents and purposes - of a witch and a vampire.

Maybe Quinn just didn't want everybody to know about her relationship with Jesse. Because that, even she couldn't explain. They weren't quite friends but they weren't quite enemies. They were a bit like a mentor and a student, a bit like a brother and a sister. A bit like frenemies. A bit like grumpy old men when they'd both had a bad day. Whatever Quinn and Jesse were, it sure as Hell was unique. And the fact that Rachel Berry knew about them was bad enough.

Quinn thought constantly about how Rachel probably didn't believe her explanations. About how Rachel probably sat around thinking that Quinn was secretly dating Jesse St. James, Rachel's ex-boyfriend. Quinn tried not to feel too guilty about it. After all, she and Jesse weren't dating and hadn't Rachel dated Quinn's ex-boyfriend? Well, look at how that turned out. Another thing Quinn has to feel guilty about. She practically set up Rachel and Finn. Sure, they probably would have gotten together anyways without Quinn's interference, but even still, Quinn kept trying to outweigh the bad karma by steering Rachel away from Finn's attempts to get back together with her.

She wondered if she was really helping or if where Rachel and Finn were concerned, was resistance futile? After all, they were the epic, underdog, endgame romance that made Quinn grind her teeth together. The everlasting symbol of great first loves that made Quinn want to vomit. Meant to be. The thought that Rachel Berry was meant to be stuck in Lima while Finn runs his stepfather's tire shop was just a stupid idea. No. Meant to be, they were not.

All this ran through Quinn's mind in a blurry mess as Sofia sat her and Jesse down at the kitchen table and got set making some kind of mushroom soup. She shook out of her thoughts as she felt Jesse's steely grey eyes boring into her.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Quinn pursed her lips. "Sofia," she replied, because she didn't want to say, 'Rachel Barbra Berry'.

"She's not what I expected," Jesse said with a smirk, looking over Quinn's shoulder at Sofia, busy by the

stove, "She's not exactly Judy Fabray."

"No," Quinn agreed, "Thank God."

"You don't miss your mother?" he asked.

"Not exactly. I visited her once since I was kicked out last year, and... well, I guess she was more impressive in my memory. In reality, she's meek."

For some reason, this made Jesse smile widely. "You're more powerful than her. Definitely. The power

grows with every generation. Beth will be more powerful than you. Especially under Shelby's tutelage."

Quinn grimaced. "Well, she won't be under Shelby's tutelage much longer if you could hurry up this damn St. James School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Jesse smirked. "You can't rush power."

"I have power. Lots of it."

"But not control. And don't roll your eyes at me. Control is much more important. Power can be inherited, borrowed, bought, stolen... Control can only be learned. Honed."

Quinn smirked. Sometimes she had an urge to call him sensei.

"Besides," Jesse continued, "The life you have now isn't as bad as I expected it to be."

Quinn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jesse stole another glance at Sofia. "You have a mother, now. A better mother. She loves you. She makes

you soup when it's cold. My mother can't even remember to remind our chef that I'm allergic to paprika.

And the vampire... she's upstairs?"

"Yes, Jesse," Quinn smiled, "It's only five. She's sleeping."

"Well, she's like a sister to you, no? One of those vapid cheerleaders you befriended as a freshman?"

Quinn nodded. "She's my sister."

"Well, then. You have a family. A family who loves you. Friends. Good grades. More supernatural power than any of your little classmates could dream of, and a devoted teacher willing to help you hone that power into something useful."

"What are you getting at?"

Jesse clenched his jaw and calculated the scene, wondering whether he should say what he's about to say.

"Do you really need Beth?"

Quinn widened her eyes. "...I told you about the pangs."

"The pangs will get easier to manage. Easier to ignore. Surely."

"Not the point, Jesse. Shelby is using my baby as some sort of pawn in her legacy and since when were you in favor of Shelby keeping her? I thought you wanted Beth out of the picture so you could have Shelby all to yourself, which I will never not find deeply disturbing, by the way. I mean, she's Rachel's mom-"

"I know Shelby long before I knew Rachel, for your information, and... and yes, I still want her. And I want Beth out of the picture. I just... are you sure you know what you want?"

Quinn couldn't answer before Sofia slouched over and set two bowls of beige gloop in front of them.

"Deener ees served!"

xxx

Buffy slouched in the chair at her dining room table and watched her mother slink her hand into Darren's. Buffy had refused to take his other hand as he bowed his head in prayer.

"Lord, we ask you to bless this home and help those in it to be more productive, more considerate and

more honest. Amen."

Buffy noted with displeasure that Darren made some meaningful eye contact with her at that last part.

"Amen," Joyce smiled blissfully.

Darren rose to dish some shrimp alfredo onto their plates. Of course, it smelled amazing, but Buffy

wrinkled her nose at the creamy seafood pasta.

"How was school, Buffy?" Darren asked as he sat back down, "Did you learn anything?"

"Uh huh," Buffy said, taking a sip of tap water.

"What do you think?" Darren asked Joyce as he watched her shovel a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

Joyce looked lovingly at her boyfriend as she swallowed. "It's fantastic. Don't you think, Buffy?"

Buffy spun her fork around in the pasta and stared blankly at her plate. "It... looks good."

"Well, little lady, it's not just for looks, it's for building strong bones."

"Honey, eat some," Joyce smiled.

Buffy glanced between her mother and Darren before setting down her fork. "So, are you guys gonna get

married or something?"

Joyce spluttered on her pasta and took a sip of water. "Goodness, no, Buffy, what on Earth gave you that

idea?"

"Buffy, your mother and I are taking it one step at a time, but if things go well, someday I just might ask her to tie the knot. Now, how would you feel about that?"

Buffy looked away from Darren, to her mother, who didn't seem to object to this at all. "I'd feel like killing myself," Buffy replied.

"Buffy!" Joyce gasped.

"No, no, Joycee, I told her told her to be honest. Buffy, hon, you should try and get used to me, because you know what? I'm not going anywhere."

Buffy clenched her jaw. "May I be excused?"

"You can go to your room, young lady, that's what you can do," Joyce frowned.

Buffy rolled her eyes and sprinted to her room, outraged.

xxx

Kurt had his arm tucked under his pillow, going numb from the weight of his head resting on it. He

wriggled around in comfort under his freshly scented bedclothes. His eyelids were heavy, his thoughts

were far away and sleep was calling him. He thought he'd never really be able to get used to the dorm

rooms at Dalton Academy, but they were starting to feel like home, especially since he had a small room all to himself.

He smiled peacefully as Blaine appeared by his side, wearing his school uniform, although it was fitted just a little too tightly. I'm dreaming, Kurt realized, vaguely aware as Blaine smiled at him.

"I know what you are," said Blaine.

He didn't have to open his mouth to speak. Kurt heard him regardless. It was more like a telepathic

conversation. Kurt didn't bother to wonder what Blaine meant by that. The statement had sounded simple and almost comforting.

"You know me better than I know myself," Kurt said, sounding more seductive than he knew he could ever sound in reality.

"Look at you," Blaine sighed, and he did, his eyes trailing all over Kurt.

Blaine disappeared, but Kurt didn't mind. This was Kurt's subconscious, after all. Blaine would surely be back. Kurt's mother appeared, instead. It was how she looked in the photo Kurt kept of her. She was tall. Dark blond. Blue eyes. Beautiful. She was wearing a big, silver necklace that said 'S' which made sense to Kurt at the time, even though his mother's name didn't begin with an 'S'. It began with an 'E'. His mother morphed in front of his eyes until she was Buffy. Smaller and spunkier. Kurt didn't say hello, he just watched her.

Kurt looked down and saw himself holding an egg. He crushed it in his hand - for some reason this seemed like the logical thing to do in his dream - and it seeped a green, rotten-smelling yolk. Tentacles slithered out of the cracked egg shell and licked at Kurt's wrist. It gripped the boy and pulled him closer and closer into some rank, wretched abyss.

Kurt thundered forward in his bed, his eyes wide open and sweat drenching his forehead as he breathed

heavily. He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of his dorm room. He put his hand to his fast beating heart and sighed. Just a dream.

xxx

Buffy pulled herself up the drain pipe and leaned across the windowsill of her open window, pulling herself into her dark bedroom. She'd escaped during the night for a little recreational vampire hunting after her dinner with her mother and the devil. She couldn't figure out what it was about Darren she hated so much, but the point was, she hated him, and prolonged exposure to the mulleted weirdo wasn't going to make her like him any more.

She closed her window and let her eyes adjust to the darkness of her bedroom, before she caught a glimpse of a figure leaning against her vanity table.

"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, her body rigid as she watched Darren watch her from the desk.

"Your mother said to go to your room, Buffy," said Darren, "I think we both know she didn't mean climb

out your window and go gallivanting around town."

Buffy clenched her jaw. "First of all, this is my room. Second of all-" Buffy stopped as something caught her eye. Resting on the vanity table was a slew of stakes, wooden crosses, miniature bottles of holy water and in Darren's calloused hands was Buffy's diary, given to her by Ms. Pillsbury a year earlier.

"Were you going through my things?" asked Buffy, full of anger and disbelief.

"Yes, I have."

"How dare you! That's my personal... How dare you!"

"What do you mean when you say 'baking', Buffy?" Darren asked, glancing at her journal.

"That's none of your business!" Buffy grimaced, remembering how 'baking' was code for 'slaying'.

"Like Hell it isn't. Everything you do now is my business."

"Get out of my room!"

Darren stood up and moved invasively close to Buffy. "Or what? You'll bake me? I'm not some monster

from your imagination, Buffy. If a psychiatrist ever saw this journal he'd have a name for what you are.

Delusional. From now on, little lady, you do as I say, when I say, or I show this thing to your mother and you spend the best years of your life staring at the walls of a mental institution. Your mother and I are going to be happy and I'm not going to let you get in the way of that."

As Darren turned to leave, Buffy gripped his arm. "That's mine," she said through gritted teeth, "And

you're not leaving this room with it."

"Take your hand off me," Darren sneered.

"Make me," challenged Buffy.

Darren searchingly stared at Buffy for a moment before giving her a stinging, backhanded slap. Buffy

withdrew a little, shocked. The hit had hurt more than she would have expected it to. She frowned,

disgusted, at him before breaking into a grin.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd do that," she smirked, and threw a punch to the side of his face, as hard as her

slayer strength allowed her.

Darren fell back into her bedroom door and stumbled out into the lit hallway. She walked after him only to see him lunge forward and punch her, hard. Surprisingly hard. Buffy was stunned by the force of his punch, actually. Darren grabbed a fistful of her blond hair and began to drag her back to her room, only for Buffy to kick him hard in the stomach. He released her, surprised by the blow, and she took the moment to send punch after punch to the side of his head, forcing him down the landing.

Buffy was vaguely aware that her mother had heard the commotion from her bedroom and had now

thundered out into the hall.

"Buffy, stop!" Joyce pleaded.

Buffy sent a spinning kick to Darren's head, and he stumbled, one foot over the other at the top of the

staircase. He fell head over heels and thudded down the stairs, landing with a nasty thunk. Buffy stood at the top of the stairs, breathing hard as she stared down at Darren's unmoving body. Her mother pushed past her and thundered down the stairscase.

"Darren! Darren!"

Joyce kneeled down to the floor and grabbed for a pulse, looking hopeless. "You... You killed him!"

xxx

Rachel and Tina waited by the school's entrance, pretending to look interested in the bulletin board as they waited for Buffy to arrive.

"She's here," Tina had muttered to Rachel as Buffy stalked up through the doors of McKinley High.

Rachel no longer felt like anyone was staring judgmentally at her. All eyes were on Buffy Summers.

Everyone had heard the story about Mrs. Summer's boyfriend's untimely death over the weekend. And

everyone had heard the rumor that Buffy had something to do with it.

Tina and Rachel flanked their best friend and steered her away from the searching, nosy leers.

"We didn't really expect you to come in today," Rachel said, as they steered aimlessly down a side hall.

"I couldn't stay home," said Buffy, looking like a mess in her Cheerios uniform, with her straw-like hair

spilling out of her ponytail, "Mom won't even look at me."

They quickly found an alcove in the hallway and sat down at a hard, wicker sofa.

"What happened?" asked Tina, "Unless you don't want to talk about it."

"We had a fight," Buffy sighed, staring at nothing in particular, "I lost my temper. I really let him have it."

"The paper said he fell," said Tina.

"He did fall. Hard."

"What was he?" asked Rachel in a quiet voice.

"What?"

"What was he? Demon? Giant bug? Some sort of organ harvesting zombie-maker?"

Buffy turned her head, not answering, but just looking pained with guilt.

"Oh..."

"It wasn't your fault, Buffy," Tina said, looking desperate to believe it, "He started it."

"That defence only works in six-year-old court, T."

"Wait, court?" Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Are they charging you with something?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just-... He was a guy. He was a weird, sleazy guy, but he was still just a guy, and I

killed him."

"Don't say that," said Tina.

"Why not? Everyone else is."

"No one thinks that," Rachel tried to sound convincing, "Everyone knows it was an accident."

"I'm the slayer," said Buffy, "I had no right to hit him like that."

"You would never hurt anyone intentionally," said Rachel, "Unless they were-"

"What? Unless they were dating my mom?" Buffy sighed heavily, "I'm sorry, guys, I have to go..."

xxx

"This is killing me," Rachel shook her head, outraged.

She paced intensely through the choir room as Tina feverishly typed into her Macbook and Mike watched her research, sitting by her side.

"Darren was definitely evil," said Sam, kicking his foot against the leg of the Brad's piano, full of anxiety.

"I thought you liked him," said Mike.

"That was before. There's no way Buffy would use violence against an innocent man. Buffy is honorable. Darren was definitely up to something."

"Well, we need proof," said Tina, "Do you have a pen?"

Sam picked his backpack up from the surface of the piano and dug through it, in search of a pen. "I swear, if Buffy goes to jail because of that guy, I'll lose it. He has to be in there, Tina. Criminal record, history of domestic violence-... ooh, cookies."

Sam removed saran-wrapped chocolate chip cookies from his backpack, as well as a pen for Tina.

"I don't get it," said Mike, "Buffy's the slayer. Shouldn't she have... I don't know..."

"A license to kill?" asked Sam, unwrapping his cookies.

"You know what I mean," said Mike, "She's like Wonder Woman. Shouldn't there be different rules for

her?"

"Maybe in a fascist society," said Tina, as Sam devoured half a cookie, "Damn. Darren's got no criminal

record I kind find. Not even a complaint. This guy is like citizen of the year."

"Don't sweat it," said Sam, "Everything will be fine."

Tina raised an eyebrow at Buffy's boyfriend. "Don't sweat it?"

"Yeah. We'll work it out. No worries."

Rachel frowned. "What happened to 'I'll lose it'?" she asked.

"Look, worrying isn't going to help anybody," said Sam, through a mouthful of cookie.

Tina set her laptop down on Mike's lap and snagged half of Sam's cookie out of his hand, taking a good

look at the sticky, chewy crumble of chocolate. It wasn't long before she was in full chemist mode, beakers bubbling in the Chemistry lab, with her boyfriend keeping a watchful eye out at the door as Sam leaned over her.

"What do you know?" Sam asked eagerly.

"The secret ingredient is not love," Tina grimaced, "It looks like dematorin. It's like a tranquilizer that

makes you mellow and compliant."

"So this is evidence. Actual evidence. He drugged us! Not Buffy, but the rest of us."

"Looks like," said Tina.

Mike opened the door for Rachel, who entered with a sheet of printed paper in her hand.

"I found something," she announced excitedly, "Marriage certificates. And an address."

xxx

Buffy leaned her head against the southern wall of her bedroom. Things seemed so bleak lately, she

wondered if it would ever go back to normal. She and her mother could barely be in the same room

anymore with the tension becoming unbearable. The sad thing was, Buffy could understand with perfect clarity why her mother hated her, because right now, Buffy hated herself. And today, she'd found her bedroom window nailed shut to the windowsill.

"This day can't get any worse," she sighed to herself.

"I beg to differ."

Buffy whipped around in shock, and was stunned to see Darren standing in her room, hunched over like a zombie.

"You... You died."

"That's right. You killed me, little lady. Now don't you have something to say? Are you sorry?"

Buffy wrinkled her brow. "What are you?"

"I'm your new dad."

Darren backhanded her with such unrelenting strength that she slammed into the wall. She looked up,

stunned, as he came at her, and she kicked him hard in the leg. Her jerked back a little before smiling

inhumanly, and gripping her by her throat.

"Fun's over."

She winced as his fingers tightened. Her eyes started to roll back as he gripped her even tighter. Suddenly, she gripped a stake from the inside of her sleeve and stabbed Darren's arm. He lurched back, dropping her to the floor, clutching his arm. A dark liquid that looked suspiciously like motor oil seeped out of his wound and a spark burst.

"Missy, you're gonna find-" Darren's head snapped to the right and a giant smile was plastered on his

face, "Hell of a day! I feel like I'm sixteen again!" His head snapped back upright, "-that I don't like being disobeyed."

Buffy watched, astonished, as Darren looked like he was short circuiting. Suddenly, they both heard a

thud that sounded like a door closing downstairs. Before Buffy could call for her mother, Darren hit her,

dreadfully hard on the side of the head, knocking her unconscious.

xxx

The scoobies were surprised to find that the address Rachel had found was not a house, but some sort of

machine shop that smelled like motor oil. Sam had broken through the window and the opened the door,

leaving broken glass on the concrete floor. The room was littered with broken computers and machine

parts, and smelled musty. Mike flipped on the lightswitch as Tina leafed through the documents that

Rachel had produced.

"I count four marriage certificates," said Tina, "Not one divorce paper... Woah. One of these says he got

married in 1974. Darren must have married young. Like, kindergarten young."

"It doesn't look like anyone works here, let alone lives here," said Rachel as the scoobies snooped around.

Sam lurked around until his foot caught on a rug. He lifted it up to reveal a trap door, with a golden latch

sticking out of the cement ground. Sam pulled it down and was the first of the four to head down the

concrete steps that led to some sort of retro bachelor pad, with a bunch of classic rock posters lining the

walls, a pool table and a wall full of old records. One was already in the record player; an early Journey

album.

"Feels like home," said Mike, "If it's the eighties and you're a psycho."

The four of them looked around, eyeing the shag carpet and the lack of windows in the strange

underground home. Sam's eyes trailed the wall and he found an oddly placed, tall chest of drawers pushed up close to the wall. He pushed the chest over just slightly and revealed the edge of a hidden closet.

"What do we got here, Darren?" he asked himself as he pushed the chest out of his way.

He cracked open the closet and a musty smell escaped. Sam went still as he peered inside.

"Let's go," he frowned.

"We need evidence," said Rachel.

"We got it."

"What's in there?" asked Tina.

"His first four wives."

xxx

Joyce busied herself in the kitchen, washing dishes that really could have been left for the night. She hadn't made dinner. She didn't remember the last time she saw Buffy eat. She sighed to herself. She

didn't want to be a negligent mother, but ever since last night... She wasn't sure if she could ever look at her daughter the same way. It had been an accident. That's what Joyce told herself over and over again. But still. Darren was dead. Buffy had killed him.

She heard a floorboard creak behind her, and drooped her shoulders. "Buffy, I'm sorry, I know you-..."

She turned around and her eyes widened, nothing more than a croak coming from her throat. Unable to

speak, she looked at Darren standing awkwardly at the kitchen door.

"Joyce," he smiled warmly.

"Darren," Joyce said breathlessly, "Is it really... But you were..."

"I'm okay," he said softly, "I'm okay."

He crossed the room and draped his arms for her. Speechless, she held him back for just a second before

backing away, staring at his rugged face.

"I don't understand," she said, baffled, "You were dead."

"They say I must have been dead for six minutes. They said any longer and there would have been brain

damage."

Joyce blinked. "Why didn't anyone tell us?"

"Nobody knew. They took me to the morgue and I was unconscious for over a day. An intern found me. It's a miracle, Joyce. A miracle."

"Oh, Darren..."

"I know."

"Oh. Buffy. Darren, she never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me."

"You don't have to worry about Buffy. You don't have to worry about anything anymore."

"You should sit down..."

"I feel fine. Never better."

"I should talk to Buffy before she sees you."

Darren gritted his teeth. "Do we have to worry about Buffy right now? I'm the one who died."

Joyce looked surprised. "Of course, I... I just... I don't know what to do."

"I'll tell you what to do," Darren smiled softly, "We'll make this right and then you and I-" Suddenly, a

spark flew from Darren's neck and his head jerked to the side, "Want some gravy with that?" and jerked

back, "-can go away where no one will bother us."

Joyce stared, petrified. "Darren, I think you might want to rest-"

"I think you might want to stop telling me what to do. I don't take orders from women."

Joyce tried to muster a smile, although it looked hollow. She slowly inched toward the dining room, trying too hard to pretend that nothing was wrong.

"I think we could use a drink," she said weakly, "To celebrate."

"We should hit the road soon," said Darren, following her in.

"Hit the road?"

"You'll love the house. I spent a lot of time-" Darren's head jerked to the side, "-telling me what to do!" and jerked back, "-decorating."

Suddenly, Joyce heard a thud coming from upstairs. Buffy?

"I'd better pack then," said Joyce, shaking.

"I already have clothes. They're your size. They're always your size. You left once but I keep bringing you

back. Husband and wife is forever. Forever."

Joyce gasped a little as a loud crash came from upstairs like a door being knocked down. Just as she was

about to scream for Buffy to leave and call the police, Darren grabbed her, wrapping his strong, unmovable arms around her.

"Let go!" she screamed.

With Joyce in his arms, Darren quietly creaked through the living room and peered into the foyer.

"Come out, Buffy. I don't allow this kind of horsing around in my house."

Suddenly, Buffy appeared around the corner, gripping a dining room chair.

"Darren," she said, swinging the chair in the air and knocking it hard against the side of his head, "This

house is mine."

Darren fell to the floor, releasing his iron grip on Joyce, who fled behind her daughter. He sat back up,

looking angrily determined, half of his plastic-y flesh hanging off the side of his face and revealing shiny sculpted metal and tiny, sparking wires, as well as a swivelling prosthetic eyeball.

"Buffy," he said seriously before his head jerked to the side, "How about a game of Parcheesi?"

One more thwack of the dining room chair, and Darren was history.

xxx

Buffy walked through McKinley High, sandwiched between her friends, with Sam and Rachel on one side and Tina and Mike on the other.

"So I'm Darren the sickly loser, I'm dying and my wife dumps me. I build a better Darren and bring her

back. She dies in his creepy Journey love bunker and so he keeps bringing her back over and over. That's creepy on a level I never knew existed," said Mike.

"The sad thing is," said Tina, "The real Darren must have been a genius. The design technique on his

machine predates-"

"T, please tell me you didn't keep any of those parts," said Buffy.

"Not any big ones..."

"Tina! You're supposed to use your powers for good!"

"I just want to learn stuff!"

"Like how to make your own serial killer?" suggested Sam.

"How did your mom take it?" asked Rachel.

"She's beyond freaked," said Buffy, "But technically robots aren't in the realm of the supernatural, so at least my secret's safe."

"I'm sure she just want to forgot all about it," said Sam.

"Exactly," said Buffy as the scoobies made their way to Mr. Schuester's office, "The whole incident is

something I plan to forget. I want to pick up right where we left-"

As the scoobied rounded the corner and peered through the glass walls of Mr. Schue's office, the came to

halt as they saw him nuzzling the neck of Ms. Pillsbury.

"That's it! I give up!" Buffy threw her arms up and turned right back around, "I mean, what is it with adults these days?!"

**a/n: I hope you liked this chapter! Please review! If anyone had any questions or comments for me - or the characters - we will do our best to answer you.**


	48. The Truth

Buffy leaned her head against the thick, mossy trunk of an old oak in the middle of the Lima cemetery. She wasn't very much in hunt-mode that night. Instead, she decided to let the oogly booglies find her. She was in no mood to patrol. She couldn't exactly explain her moroseness. Things were good. Besides the Winter break being over and having to go back to school, things were good. Her friends were happy. Rachel was over Finn, even if the others suspected he was not yet over her. Spike and Drusilla were gone. Will and Emma were happy together.

And yet Buffy found herself doing everything with a strange feeling of disconnection. Like she was watching herself play the part of slayer, daughter and friend but not actually being present. Why was it that even though she spent so much time wishing she was just a normal teenage girl, did she then react so indifferently to doing normal things? Shopping with her mom and having sleepovers with Rachel and Tina and performing in glee club. Going on dates with Sam. It all felt like it was meant for someone else. Not for her. Like she didn't fit.

She sat up a bit straighter when she heard footsteps on the wet grass. She looked up and had to blink several times before she recognised Santana. Something was different about the promiscuous vampire. She wasn't wearing a short dress or a leather jacket or Doc Martens - a look that Buffy had emulated herself. She strode forth in a pair of tennis shoes - _tennis shoes _- and black leggings, an oversized varsity sweatshirt draped over her thin frame. She looked much more pale without any makeup, but just as flawless as ever. Her dark, dark hair was bunched up into a ponytail and as she neared the oak tree, she must have registered Buffy's speechless gawking.

"A bug's gonna crawl up in that mouth, Slayer," she said, her face without expression.

Buffy blinked. "Sorry," she chuckled awkwardly, "Um, you just look different."

"Yeah, well..." Santana looked around for a moment before promptly taking a seat next to Buffy, leaning against the tree, "These are my period clothes."

Buffy glanced at her, trying not to look like she was staring. "Can you still...?" she trailed off.

"No," Santana replied simply, "Guess that means I can't have kids. Not that I wanted any. I just... It's one of those days."

"Yeah," Buffy said, as if she understood, "It's so quiet these days. I feel like I'm coming to the graveyard just to hang out."

Santana snorted. "I know what that's like. But you have better stuff to do. I mean, you still have school. And the boyfriend."

Buffy shrugged. "Well, you have Quinn and your... aunt? Mom?"

"Mom," Santana confirmed, "But we don't really talk about it."

"Does she know you know?"

"Probably. But, like I said, we don't talk about it. Everything's so messed up these days. No one ever just says what's on their mind. And I know, I'm not exactly Dr. Phil, but I feel like the less we tell each other the hard it is for anyone to... God, I don't even know what I'm talking about."

"Does this have anything to do with Brittany?"

Santana sighed heavily and closed her maroon eyes. "Everyone says that I can be her friend. That I don't have to be afraid to be close to her. But it just doesn't seem to be as easy as they think it is."

Buffy wrinkled her brow and silently thought for a few long moments. "Maybe you and Brittany can't be friends."

"What?"

"Well, when two people love each other and get torn apart by life, maybe they can't just go back to being friends and forget everything that happened between them. Because it did happen. And it hurts. It hurts because it mattered. I mean, do you really want to spend your whole life being Brittany's gal pal?"

Santana stared at the grass in front of her. "It kills me to see her with someone else."

"So, you have one of two choices. You get over her. You stop seeing her. You tell Quinn not to even talk about her. You forget about her and eventually, you will get over her. Or, alternatively, you tell her exactly how you feel. And you love her like you're always wanted to."

Santana blinked at the slayer, surprised. "What about the true happiness?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What _is _true happiness, anyways? I mean, can sex and dating really invoke perfect joy? I'm dating Sam and I'm not perfectly happy."

A moment passed in awkward silence. Buffy couldn't believe she'd just said that.

"I mean, not that I'm not perfectly happy dating Sam. I am. I just mean, I don't feel like... Happiness is relative, isn't it?"

"Buffy-"

"No, listen, Sam is a great boyfriend. I can really see why anyone would-"

"No, slayer, look," Santana said, and nodded towards something in the distance.

Buffy looked in the direction she had nodded and saw someone just a few yards away, leaning against a mausoleum with a small sketchpad in their hands. Buffy squinted at the petite boy who looked like...

"Is that...?" Buffy said to herself, when the dark-haired boy realized he'd been spotted.

He widened his eyes, clutched his sketchpad and sprinted away.

"Catch that boy!" Buffy ordered to Santana, and the two girls shot up and after the boy.

It was really no competition; a vampire and a vampire slayer chasing after a five foot seven boy in a school uniform. Buffy and Santana both ploughed into the boy, knocking the wind out of him and sending his sketchpad and pencil sprawling to the ground. Santana got up and shook the grass off of her sweatshirt as Buffy straddled the boy, and flipped him over, pinning him down to see his thick, black hair mussed and his puppy dog brown eyes wide with fear.

"Blaine!" Buffy exclaimed, "What are you... I knew I recognised you! That's why you always act so shy around me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Blaine, knitting his eyebrows together.

"You do, too!" Buffy said, pointing at him, "I saw you before! Spying on me in this graveyard! Before Kurt even met you!"

Blaine wriggled under Buffy's grasp. "Please, let me go. I won't come back, I promise."

"I want to know why you were here in the first place," said Buffy, frustrated.

"I come here to relax!" Blaine cried unconvincingly.

Santana leaned over and picked up the sketchpad, opening up the first page and frowning at it. She flipped it over to Buffy to reveal a full body sketch of the slayer, holding out a stake in a defensive stance.

Buffy gasped. "Ew! You were spying on me so you could draw pictures of me?!"

"That's not weird," Santana muttered sarcastically.

"I thought you were gay!" Buffy exclaimed.

"That old trick," smirked Santana, "Tell the girls you're gay so they'll take you bra shopping."

"Why are you obsessed with me?!"

"Pervert," Santana mumbled.

"I am not a pervert!" said Blaine, wriggling out from under Buffy and sitting on the grass, running his hands over his hair, settling it back into place, "And I'm not obsessed with you. And I _am _gay."

"Then why are you spying on me and drawing pictures of me?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, standing up.

"It's not about you," said Blaine, rising to his feet and snatching the sketchpad from Santana.

He flicked through it, displaying his sketches. Buffy watched with mild awe as he showed sketches of vampires and demons. He even had a rough sketch of Spike and Drusilla, and what Buffy thought may have been a werewolf, but couldn't be sure.

"This doesn't make me feel any better, Blaine," Buffy said, raising her eyebrows at the sketchbook.

Blaine closed the book and sighed. "It's just research."

"Research for what?" Buffy demanded.

Blaine shrugged. "Demonology. It's a hobby."

"Let me rephrase that. Why are you researching _me_?!"

"I know what you are," he said, meeting her unflinching gaze, "You're a vampire slayer."

Buffy's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

Santana snorted. "It's not exactly a secret."

Buffy frowned at her briefly before turning her attention back to Blaine. "Well?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out," Blaine shrugged, "I'm not new to this stuff. Vampires. Demons. When I see a girl alone in a graveyard fighting three vampires at a time and winning... Well, vampire slayer. Obviously."

Buffy's mouth hung open. "Yeah. Obviously," she said sarcastically, "Blaine, I want you to tell me everything. From the beginning. How do you know this stuff? Does Kurt know you know?"

Blaine looked nervously between Buffy and Santana. "Do we have to talk about this now? Lights out in Dalton is at midnight and Westerville is like an hour and forty five minute drive from here."

Buffy and Santana shared a glance. "Fine," Buffy frowned, "I'm coming to Dalton tomorrow."

Blaine bit his lip. "What about my parents house? It'll be easier to explain everything there."

Buffy bristled. "...Fine. Give me the address. I'll be there after school."

xxx

Kurt wriggled in his bed. The sheets were hot on his skin, but he didn't wake. He allowed the sensation to blend into his dream. Blaine was there, picking up where he'd left off in the last dream, telling him he knew him better than Kurt knew himself.

"I see you," Blaine said without moving his smiling lips, "I see right in here."

He tapped Kurt's pale chest, and Kurt looked down to see he was wearing his mother's necklace. The one with the silver 'S'. But it didn't quite fit him right.

"You don't have to worry about that," said Blaine, and easily removed the necklace.

He and Blaine shared a kiss, but it was a bland one of the bad imagination. Blaine disappeared and Kurt grew uneasy. Then the dream turned into a nightmare. A vampire's fangs gnashed right in front of Kurt's face and it nails scratched a scar into Kurt's arm - a jagged line on his forearm that ended at his elbow. He cried out and it was the sound of a child crying. He realized it wasn't really him, but a younger version of himself, maybe two or three.

Suddenly, the vampire was gone and in it's place, his mother smiled reassuringly at him. She wore a white dress and even her normally dark blond hair was completely white. His cut stopped bleeding, but the jagged scar remained. Then, everything was plunged into darkness.

Kurt sat up straight in his bed, drenched in sweat. He threw off the sheets that clung to his hot legs, breathing heavily. He reached for his phone to check the time. It was barely midnight. He sighed, feverishly. Just a dream. Just a dream. But something about this dream...

No, it was definitely just a dream. That didn't mean it didn't bother Kurt. Kurt switched on the lamp on his nightstand and inspected the scar on his forearm. It was a pale, crooked white line that ended at his elbow, stretched from time and growth. His dad said he got it from when he'd been playing around in the tire shop at the age of three and got cut by an open, jagged can of motor oil. He didn't remember it. Of course he didn't. He'd been three.

Kurt opened a message on his phone.

**- U awake?**

He didn't know why he was texting Blaine. He just wasn't in the mood to go back to sleep and Blaine had become his closest friend at Dalton Academy. As he awaited a reply, he silently wished his dream of kissing Blaine hadn't ended, no matter how much it paled in comparison to a real kiss.

**- Ya, just got back from Starbucks :)**

**- U caffeine junkie ;)**

**- U know it! Whats up?**

**- Can't sleep. Bad dreams.**

**- What kinda dreams?**

Kurt smirked and decided to skip over the part where he and Blaine got their smooch on.

**- That I was attacked by a vampire when i was lil. I know, I've been watching 2 much vampire diaries!**

Blaine took a long time to reply.

**- Then wat happened?**

**- Then it was gone and my mom was there. She was all in white. Then it was over.**

Again, Blaine took his time replying. Kurt wondered if he'd made Blaine uncomfortable by bringing up his dead mom. People didn't generally want to talk about their friend's deceased parents. But then Kurt's phone buzzed just as he was about to nod back to sleep.

**- Text me whenever u get a bad dream, buddy. I'm here to listen :) Get some sleep, Hummel. We'll talk at the back of first period tomoro. Night night.**

Kurt read the message three times, smiled and fell asleep.

xxx

Buffy gathered with her friends in the biology lab on Monday morning, while a bunch of other kids from their first period class flooded into the room. She and Sam took one of the marble lab tables at the very back, with Tina and Mike occupying the table in front of them. Rachel leaned against Buffy's desk, listening raptly to her friend.

"He says he researches it as a _hobby_," Buffy divulged the details of last night to her friends, "What kind of freak studies slayers and demons for fun?"

The scoobied shared an awkward glance.

"Well, it's not the same. We do it for justice!" she said.

"Yeah, you're right," Sam agreed, "We save people. What's Blaine's deal?"

"That's what I'm going to figure out today," said Buffy, "Blaine gave me his address. I'm going there after school today to find out exactly what's up with him."

She didn't care to mention that she'd asked Santana to go with her. Partly because Blaine could easily be more than he appeared to be and she may need backup, and partly because Santana needed something to distract her from crawling back to Brittany. Apparently she'd chosen to try to get over the blond cheerleader, and Buffy thought that she had chosen correctly.

As the bell rang, Tina and Mike turned back into their seats and Rachel returned to her seat in front of them. The rest of the biology class flooded in and bustled around in their seats, talking to their seatmates before the lesson started. Quinn was swept in with the rest of them in her Cheerios uniform, and searched for an empty spot to sit. In freshman and sophomore year it was always her and Finn, with Santana and Brittany behind them. Oh, but how times had changed. Now, Finn was sitting next to some guy on the football team and Brittany had wheeled Artie next her behind them. Now, the only free seat was beside _her_.

Quinn didn't know why she was so tentative about sitting next to Rachel Berry, or even looking at her. Maybe it was because whenever Rachel looked at her, Quinn wasn't sure at all how she was supposed to feel. Were they friends? Was Quinn supposed to laugh at her jokes or smirk and call her Man-Hands? So many dynamics had changed, and she wasn't sure where she stood with Rachel. She knew she cared about the girl in some way. Liked her, even, maybe. So why did it feel so much more complicated than that?

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked softly, leaning over the desk.

Rachel looked up at her, pleasantly surprised.

See, that was another thing that bothered Quinn. For a year and a half of high school, Quinn terrorised Rachel Berry. She almost got her killed on one occasion. So why did Rachel always look so freaking happy to see her? She was clearly a masochist.

"Of course, Quinn."

Quinn smiled stiffly and set her book down on the table, taking the seat. Or maybe what bothered her was her guilt. After everything they'd been through, Rachel Berry was always the nicest person to Quinn. She was nicer to Quinn than Quinn's own friends. She almost wanted to shake her and say, "Stop liking me so much!" It was so much more easier and comfortable and uncomplicated when she and Rachel hated each other. Now, everything was thrown out of balance. Quinn used to make fun of Rachel's pathetically geeky cable knit tights. Now, her eyes lingered at the edge of Rachel's knee-high socks that hugged her pale, slender legs.

"Sex!"

Quinn's attention was snapped back to the front of the classroom, where their biology teacher, Mr. Whitmore, wrote 'SEX' in big capital letters on the marker board. She felt her cheeks grow pink as she and her classmates were jolted out of their thoughts by their unorthodox teacher.

"The sex drive in the human animal is intense," said Mr. Whitmore, "How many of us have lost countless productive hours plagued by unwanted sexual thoughts and feelings?"

Puck's hand shot up at the back of the class. The football jocks clamoured in laughter and Quinn just rolled her eyes in embarrassment.

"It was a rhetorical question, Mr. Puckerman," Mr. Whitmore frowned, "Not a poll. Of course, for teenagers such as yourselves, these feelings can be overwhelming. With all sorts of hormones surging through your bodies, compelling you to action, it's often difficult that there are negative consequences to having sex. Would anyone care to offer one such consequence?"

Morgan Ru's hand shot up. "That depends. Are you talking about sex in a car or out of a car? Because one time a friend of mine - not me - accidentally kicked the gear shift on a Miata on the top of a hill-"

"Uh, I was thinking of something a little bit more... commonplace, Ms. Ru. Anyone else?"

Quinn sighed internally and raised her hand. "Pregnancy?"

She had already felt the eyes on her, waiting for her to say it. So she said it. She wasn't going to pretend it never happened. She may pretend, however, that she didn't notice the look of admiration on Rachel's face.

"Thank you, Ms. Fabray," said Mr. Whitmore, "As discussed last week, I've devised an exercise for you kids to demonstrate the ups and downs of being a teen parent."

Whitmore moved to the corner of the classrooms and flourishly removed a sheet from a full crate of free range eggs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, your offspring. You will split into pairs. You and your partner will each share in the responsibility for the daily care of your egg baby. I want you to record every aspect of your parenting. If your egg breaks, your baby is dead. Obviously, this will affect your grade. Pair up and take your children."

Quinn wasn't sure why she even bothered to look around the room to who paired with who. It was already a given. Buffy with Sam. Tina with Mike. Brittany with Artie. Morgan Ru with Dave Karofsky, even though he clearly wasn't into her. It wasn't until Quinn looked at Finn that she felt a little uneasy. He was looking determinedly at Rachel. _Oh no_, thought Quinn.

"Rachel," Quinn said quickly, "Do you want to be my partner?"

Rachel blinked at her. "You want to raise an egg baby with me?"

Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

Rachel broke out into an ecstatic smile. "I'd love to be your partner, Quinn."

Quinn smiled, and glanced back at Finn. He'd obviously seen their exchange, and was looking away, disappointed, trying to get one of the Cheerios to pair up with him.

She turned back to Rachel. "Great."

"One thing," said Rachel, "I'd like to name our egg daughter Cosette."

"Um, that's fine."

"And I'd prefer if we raised Cosette to be Jewish. That doesn't mean you're obligated to convert."

"Sure, Rachel."

xxx

The taxi pulled up on a curb of Worthington Road. Buffy had planned on taking the bus, because neither her nor Santana really drove, but Santana was disgusted by the idea of public transport so she dished out on a taxi ride from Lima to Westerville. Sometimes Buffy forgot that Santana used to be a privileged Fabrette.

The girls walked up to the house that was supposed to be Blaine's. It was one of the nicer houses in the upper class neighborhood and Buffy couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated as she sounded the musical doorbell.

It was a man who Buffy assumed was Blaine's father who answered the door. He was petite, too, but handsome in a different way from his son. He was rugged, with salt and pepper hair and dark stubble, his tie loosened under the collar of his striped business shirt.

"Mr. Anderson?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"You must be friends of Blaine," Mr. Anderson smiled slightly, a twinkle in his dark brown eyes, "Please, come in."

Santana and Buffy were ushered into the warm house. It smelled like Yankee candles and looked like an Ikea catalogue.

"Blaine," Mr. Anderson called up the spiral staircase, "Your friends are here."

Buffy could hear Blaine's quick footsteps rushing to the top of the staircase. He sprinted down the stairs and reached the end with a big smile, slightly out of breath.

"Hi," he smiled happily, like he'd truly made new friends and was excited to play with them, "Uh, Dad, this is Buffy and Santana. They go to high school in Lima. Can we go up to the study?"

Mr. Anderson gave Buffy and Santana a once over before winking at his son. "Sure. It's late, though, remember to be back at Dalton before curfew."

"Yes, sir," he said, and grinned at the girls, "Come on, I'll show you my study."

He sprinted back upstairs and Buffy and Santana glanced at each other, taken aback, before following him up. They silently followed him to the end of the hall and into a bedroom-sized study with a modern desk, laptop and two opposite walls of bookshelves.

"This is my study," said Blaine, shrugging with a smile on his face.

"You have your own study?" Buffy raised an eyebrow at the clean room.

"It used to be my brother's room before he moved to California. This is where I keep all my research and my sketches," said Blaine, "You wanted me to explain why I know the things I know. It's because of my parents."

"Your parents?"

Blaine nodded. "They've always studied demonology."

"What, are they demon hunters?" asked Santana, wrinkling her nose.

"No," said Blaine, "My dad is a professor at Ohio State. He teaches Psychology, and Classical Mythology as a minor elective. He doesn't like to advertise his beliefs, but... well, he believes. Vampires. Demons. Spirits."

"Slayers?" asked Buffy.

Blaine frowned. "No. Not slayers."

"Your dad doesn't believe in slayers?"

"He always thought they were a myth to scare vampires. He thought I was crazy when I started studying them. I thought maybe I was crazy, too. But then I saw you."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "When did you see me?"

"Fighting. In the graveyard."

"Why were you at the Lima cemetery?" asked Santana, "I mean, it's almost two hours away from Westerville."

Blaine opened his mouth and closed it again, looking guilty. "I was making a visit."

"To who?" asked Buffy.

"To... find a woman. I found all of these newspaper articles about this woman who lived in Lima and... it sounded like she could have been a slayer."

Buffy raised an uncertain eyebrow. "Me?"

Blaine shook his head. "Older newspaper articles. I thought if I went to Lima and found her..."

"Did you find her?"

"No," Blaine looked regretful, "She died just a little over ten years ago. I never really got to know if she was a slayer or not. I don't know why, but I felt like I had to see where she was buried. So I went to the Lima cemetery."

Buffy felt lightheaded. "There was a slayer in Lima before me?"

"The slayer before the slayer before you, I should think," said Blaine, "I'd given up researching her. Until now."

"Why do you suddenly care about her again?" asked Santana.

Blaine wrung his hands together and stared at the hardwood floor of the study. "Because her name was Elizabeth Martin. Until she got married. And then her name was Elizabeth Hummel."

Buffy's eyes widened. Her stomach turned for many different reasons. "Are you saying...?"

"Porcelain's dead mom is a dead slayer," Santana said bluntly.

Blaine put his hands under his thighs and nodded, looking much younger than he was. "I think so. I have the newspaper clippings if you want to see them."

"No," Buffy waved her hand at him, feeling ill. Not only was one of her friend's unaware that they're mother had a secret identity - a secret _life_ - but it was also opening Buffy's eyes to a topic she'd never given a thought. A vampire slayer with _kids_? Elizabeth Hummel wasn't just a slayer, she was a mom.

"Does Lady Lips know about any of this?" Santana asked what Buffy was thinking.

"Kurt? No... I don't think he knows his mother was a slayer. I don't even know if he knows about vampires."

"He does," said Buffy, to Blaine's surprise, "He knows about me. But he definitely doesn't know about his mom. He would have said something. He told us she was killed in a car crash. When he was six."

Blaine looked uneasy. "The autopsy report says she was drained of blood."

Buffy held her hand to head. "You have to tell Kurt."

"I don't feel like I should be the one to do that," said Blaine, "What about his father? Did he even know?"

"I don't think slaying is the kind of thing you can hide from your husband," said Buffy.

"Why not?" asked Santana, "You hide it from your own mom. Then again, you couldn't hide it from an entire high school glee club, so-"

"It's not the _whole _glee club," said Buffy, "But Kurt has to know. You have to tell him."

Blaine frowned. "He has dreams. He tells me how vivid they are. They sound alot like slayer premonitions."

Buffy shook her head, recollecting the very rare occasions when she would have a scarily vivid dream about danger that was near to come. They were almost always extremely vague and exclusively a slayer thing.

"Kurt can definitely not be a slayer," said Buffy, "It's kind of a girl thing."

"No, I know," said Blaine, "But do you think he could be having premonitions?"

Buffy clenched her jaw. "Doubt it. What does he dream about?"

"Vampires. One time had something to do with eggs. Rotten eggs with... tentacles."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "It sounds like your average bad dream. Keep in mind, Kurt grew up on the Hellmouth."

Blaine nodded. "I guess."

"Either way, Kurt should know the truth about his mother. It'd be better if it came from his dad, though. Do you think you could talk to Mr. Hummel?"

"_Me_?" asked Blaine, suddenly intimidated, "Why me?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I don't know. You're the slayer expert, apparently."

"I wouldn't say expert-"

"Tell him, Blaine. Or I will. And trust me, he's not going to like knowing you knew this whole time and didn't say anything. He'd probably kill me if he heard me saying this, but Blaine... He really likes you. And he trusts you."

Blaine blinked at her, looking somehow sad and hopeful at the same time. "He does?"

"Of course he does," Santana rolled her eyes, "Do you know how many pocket-sized uniformed pony boys goes to McKinley High? Zero."

Blaine paused. "Well... I like him, too."

"Then tell him the truth."


	49. The Bezoar

Buffy pulled herself through her bedroom window. She'd made sure the taxi had dropped her off around the corner so that her mom wouldn't see her arriving at such a late hour. She'd bid farewell to Santana and Blaine and held an uneasy feeling in her stomach as she slipped off her shoes and kicked them under her bed. Her head was so full today and she was ready to collapse.

She was bewildered by Blaine Anderson. Truly and deeply bewildered. And not because he and his parents were avid fans of demonology or because Blaine knew she was a slayer. She was more so bewildered because when people or things were dabbling in dark stuff like this, it normally meant that they were ominous or even dangerous. Blaine? He was just curious. Interested. _Excited_. In some way, it reminded her of Tina, who had believed in vampires her whole life. But Tina had never endangered herself by studying these beings. At least, not before she met Buffy.

Blaine trekked his way to the Lima cemetery every other weekend just to get a glimpse of the wonders of the Hellmouth. A normal person would have avoided those happenings. Yet Blaine was so chipper and matter-of-fact about it. He'd been so friendly to Buffy and Santana, even acting eager to show them his research. He was like a little kid with a bedroom full of new toys. When he'd walked Buffy and Santana to the door, he'd even asked Buffy if he could tag along on one of her patrols. For science.

"We'll see about that," Buffy had replied. After all, she rarely let her own boyfriend, Sam Evans, tag along. But she supposed that was different. Sam hero-worshipped Buffy. She was a superhero to him. To Blaine, she was a subject. An anomaly. An anthropological study.

Even more, Buffy's head was reeling with the new information about the circumstances of Kurt's mother's life and death. Did Burt Hummel know the truth about his wife? If he did, he was definitely keeping it a secret from his son. Kurt turned a pale shade of green at the very mention of vampires - more so than any of the other glee clubbers, even Finn or Mercedes. Buffy had to wonder about Kurt's mom. She had never given much thought to the past slayers and now she was curious. How could one raise a child and be a vampire slayer? Was it possible? Well, Buffy thought, Kurt's mom is dead. So that was her answer.

Buffy fell against her bed, her clothes still on. She sighed heavily and threw her arm over her eyes, trying to figure out what to do, when she heard a strange, muffled clicking noise. She looked up, and around her bedroom. Leaning forward, she noticed her egg rocking slightly on her nightstand - the white oval that her Biology teacher had issued her, that she and Sam adopted and agreed to name Mary Jane. Buffy leaned into the egg and was surprised that the clicking was coming from inside.

She listened intently, until there was silence. Mary Jane had stopped clicking, and she had stopped rocking. Buffy stared at it, intrigued, until the egg shell cracked open like a miniature explosion. Buffy reeled backward as something strange and slimy and altogether horrible leapt from the broken shell and at her face.

Buffy ducked, not really getting to see what the slimy creature was, and it skittered across the floor. Buffy spun around to just see whatever it was duck around the bed. Buffy held her breath and crept backwards toward her bookshelf, never taking her eye off of the bed. She reached behind her and picked up a hardback copy of 'The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants' and held it up, ready to squash the creature underneath it.

Buffy stepped forward with the book held out in one arm, and kneeled down at the foot of her bed. She grabbed a handful of her duvet that spilled over the side of her mattress and lifted it up on a sudden sweeping motion. She squinted at the bottom of her bed to see nothing but dust bunnies. She stood up, spooked, and slowly panned around her bedroom, staring at every corner, waiting for the creature to appear. Suddenly, she felt a thump on her shoulder and realized that the creature had fallen from the ceiling. Buffy gasped at the strange, slime-covered being on her shoulder, attempting to scuttle down the back of her shirt.

Buffy dropped her book and flung the creature off of her. It looked like a strange, rat-sized demonic mixture of a spider and a scorpion. Buffy gripped her stake out from under her sleeve. She whipped her weapon at it so fast, the creature was pinned between the wooden stake and the wall it had scuttled up. It's leg twitched before it's body finally went stiff and motionless. Buffy grimaced as she pulled her stake out of the creature's horrid body and it fell to the floor, dark blue blood seeping from it.

"Yuck," Buffy frowned, and took her cellphone out of her pocket and searching her contacts for the number she needed, "Come on, pick up."

"Hello?" Tina's voice came on the other line.

"Tina, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your egg. Is it doing anything?"

"Doing what?"

"Break it. Now. Smash it with something heavy."

"Buffy, what-"

"My egg just went postal on me. It hatched. Some kind of crawly egg monster thing jumped on me."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but your egg-"

"It's totally normal. I put it in the fridge."

"Oh..."

"Maybe it was a trap. Maybe the assassins of Taraka are back."

Buffy sighed. "...Maybe. Okay, I'll talk about it tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Bye."

Buffy hung up her cellphone and set it in the nightstand, cleaning up the broken egg shell, as well as the creature, wrapped in an old t-shirt.

"Buffy, who are you talking to at this-"

Buffy spun around to see her mother coming through her bedroom door in a floral nightgown, her hair mussed at one side.

"Why are you dressed? Where exactly do you think you're going at one o'clock in the morning?"

Buffy gaped. Her mother had that furious look on her face. The one that was really sick of this goddamn rebel act. The one that wasn't going to bother consulting the parenting guides.

"Nowhere-"

"Who was that on the phone?"

"Tina. I just... I called her because she wasn't feeling well and I was worried."

"You're going to have to do better than that, young lady."

"I... had a bad dream-"

"No, you're _about _to have a bad dream. One where you get grounded for the rest of your life."

Buffy sat through the lecture before her mom finally gave up and went to bed. This grounding was the worst she would endure since moving to Lima. Her mother would drop her off and pick her up from school every day for two weeks. _Two weeks_. How was Buffy supposed to do anything - patrol, socialize, be a Cheerio - with her mom breathing down her neck 24/7?

Buffy sighed and sat on her bed, taking her cellphone out one more time and dialing a new number.

"Hello?" came Blaine's voice on the other line, in a hushed tone.

"Blaine?" Buffy whispered, "You're really quiet."

"Yeah, I don't want my room-mate to wake up."

"Oh. Right. Well, I don't want to wake up my mom, so-"

"Right. What is it? Is there something weird going on I should know about? Do you need my help?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and grinned slightly at Blaine's enthusiasm, that could only be described as Berry-like. "Maybe. What was that you said about Kurt's dream? About the eggs?"

"Oh. He said he crushed them in his hand and they smelled bad and, uh... tentacles came out, or something. That was it, I think. Why?"

Buffy chewed her bottom lip before replying. "It might not have been a dream. It might have been a vision."

xxx

Blaine waited at the southernmost hall of Dalton Academy for Boys, outside the large classroom where Madame Klein taught French. Kurt would arrive soon for first period, wanting to talk to Blaine about... whatever it was he wanted to talk about. Sometimes it would be the exciting shows he watches on HBO, who wore what at whatever award ceremonies, his family and his stepbrother and his friends back at McKinley High. Truthfully, Blaine found it all as enthralling as a book about paranormal water creatures.

Which meant very, very enthralling, indeed.

He didn't know why, but to Blaine, Kurt was the single most interesting kid on Ohio, and it wasn't because his mother was a slayer. He just glowed with some sort of inner light that made Blaine want to be with him every hour of every day. Blaine didn't know how to take it when Buffy said that Kurt liked him last night. Blaine didn't know anything about romance. He knew how to make friends and be a good performer and how to deduct how old a Fyarl demon was based on the number of tusks around it's mouth, but he did not know how to ask a person out. Never mind tell a person the truth about their dead mother.

Kurt was walking forward, with his rhinoceros brooch pinned to his tightly fitted Dalton blazer. Blaine self-consciously patted his thickly gelled hair and smiled warmly as Kurt approached.

"Good morning," said Kurt, holding his arms tight to his side, his satchel slung around his shoulder.

"Did you sleep well?" Blaine asked, and immediately regretted asking. _What a stupid ice breaker_, he thought, _Do you want to sound like a creepy stalker?_

"Uh huh," Kurt smiled, his lips thin and pink.

"Listen, I need to talk to you," said Blaine, lowering his voice and gently tugging Kurt's sleeve.

As their classmates walked into French class, Blaine led Kurt away, nearer to the now empty sweeping staircase.

"What is it?" asked Kurt, his ever-changing blue eyes boring into Blaine.

"I don't know how to say this," Blaine sighed, "But there are things I know. Things that you wouldn't expect me to know."

Kurt blinked. "Blaine, what are you talking about?"

"I know about vampires. And the Hellmouth. And I know that Buffy is a slayer and that Santana is a vampire with a soul."

Kurt breathed in deep and stared at Blaine for a moment. "...Oh. I... can't say I'm too surprised. I mean... it's a lot to process right now, I guess."

"I know. But now that we both know, we can be more honest with each other."

Kurt nodded and then wrinkled his brow. "How do you know I know?"

"Buffy, I... I was studying Buffy in the graveyard. She found me and we... talked."

"She forced you to talk?"

"Well, she's forceful like that."

Kurt smirked. "I can't believe this. All this time and... You study the Hellmouth?"

"We can talk about that later. Listen, right now, there is some stuff you need to know."

Kurt knitted his eyebrows, concerned. "Okay."

"We need to help Buffy with something, so I need you to be focused on just that, so right now, I can't tell you what I need to tell you. Because you won't be focused, if I do. You'll be too shocked..."

Kurt frowned, and surprised Blaine by taking the boy's hand in his. "Blaine, just tell me."

Blaine sighed and shrugged away from Kurt's touch. "I can't. Not right now. But I will later. I promise. Okay?"

"Okay," Kurt nodded, "Why do we need to help Buffy?"

"Because, those dreams you've been having? We think they're coming true."

Kurt opened his mouth in shock, and then closed it again. "But... Wait, what? They're dreams, they can't-"

"Buffy and I think they're premonitions. Buffy thinks something weird is going on with the eggs they're using for a Biology assignment."

Kurt shook his head. "That's just a coincidence. Why would you think I'd be having premonitions?"

Blaine looked guiltily up at Kurt with deep brown eyes. "I can't tell you right now."

Kurt sighed, irritated. "Fine... We'll go to McKinley. I'll drive."

xxx

"Hello, friends," Rachel chirped formally as she strode into the choir room, her egg cradled in her hand.

Tina, Mike and Sam looked up from their seats, and Buffy nodded to her friend as she leaned against Brad's piano.

"Hey, Rachel," Buffy sighed, wearily.

"So why have you gathered us all here?" asked Rachel, smoothing down her tartan skirt and taking a seat beside Tina.

"I wanted to ask you about your egg," said Buffy.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Cosette?" Rachel held up her egg and Buffy saw that it was covered in Sharpie, giving it the appearance of wearing a frilly pink tutu and green eyes with big eyelashes.

"Uh, yeah. Cosette."

"Well, she's been great. I've been giving her round the clock care and have even settled a custody agreement with Quinn for the duration of our assignment," Rachel smiled smugly.

"Right, but I mean... has it been acting weird?"

"Acting weird?" Rachel wrinkled her nose, "It hasn't been acting anything, Buffy. It's an egg. It doesn't have the capacity to emote."

"Something came out of Buffy's egg," Tina informed her.

"Like a slimy spidery creature thing," said Buffy, "It attacked me."

"Everyone else's seems to normal, though," said Mike, "We think Buffy's was a trap."

"Good," said Rachel, "I mean, not good that your egg monster attacked you, but I've put a lot of effort into raising Cosette with good values and don't want her to erupt and birth a slime demon."

The scoobies looked up as Quinn Fabray entered the choir room, her blond ponytail high.

"Look who I found," she announced, and led Kurt and Blaine into the room, the boys looking dapper in their Dalton Academy uniforms.

"Kurt!" Rachel beamed, "What are you doing here?"

"You tell me," Kurt said, and looked over at Buffy, "What's going on? I skipped French to be here."

"Did Blaine tell you what's going on?" asked Buffy.

"Partly," answered Blaine, giving Buffy a meaningful look.

"Oh... Okay," said Buffy, "Well, Kurt, we think your dream might have been more than just a dream."

"Right. A premonition," Kurt said flatly, "Again, why would you think that?"

Buffy sighed. "I'm sure Blaine will tell you later."

"Uh huh," nodded Kurt, "Well, how am I supposed to help?"

"Maybe you can recall something from your dream."

"I told Blaine everything I know."

"And I told you everything he told me," said Blaine.

"What's going with the eggs?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah, what's going on with the eggs?" asked Quinn, folding her arms.

"I think there's something in them. Something came out of mine last night and attacked me," explained Buffy.

"In all of the eggs?" asked Quinn, her mouth hanging open.

"Just Buffy's," Rachel said defensively, "I've been looking after Cosette all night and there's nothing wrong with her."

Quinn turned to Rachel and held her hand out. "Let me see the egg."

Rachel looked up at the blond cheerleader and struggled to reply. "W-What are you gonna do to her?"

"See if there's something inside her."

"Quinn, no! We'll lose our grade!"

"We can replace it with another egg! Come on!"

Rachel pouted and reluctantly handed over the egg. Quinn turned it over in her hand and grinned at the drawing.

"This is nice, Rachel."

Rachel looked up and smiled sadly. "Thank you. I know that my brown eyes are a dominant trait, but I decided to give her your green eyes instead."

Quinn looked curiously at Rachel for a moment, before quickly turning away, avoiding the girl's eyes. Quinn gripped the egg tightly and her hand glowed for just a moment. She then took it between both of her hands and started rolling it back and forth.

"What did you do to it?" asked Sam.

"I hard-boiled it," said Quinn, and flakes of crisp white shell started to crack off as she rolled the egg between her hands.

Soon, most of the shell had fallen away and the others gasped to see a horrible, hard-boiled creature, stiff and dead inside. One bloodshot eye set in the deformed creature looked up at Quinn, and she dropped it in disgust.

"Cosette!" cried Rachel, horrified.

"What is it?!" asked Quinn.

Buffy stared down at the creature, and picked it up. "We should take it to the science lab."

"Do you really think this thing calls for dissection, Buffy?" asked Tina, as everyone stood over the horrifying egg creature.

"Of course," Buffy replied, "A day without an autopsy is like a day without sunshine."

xxx

"Buffy? Hello?"

Joyce walked tentatively into the choir room. She smiled as she gave the grand piano and the glee club trophies from the 90s a once over. She'd been so happy when Buffy had joined glee club and every time she got to watch her daughter perform at state competitions. It was so unlike Buffy to show this kind of school spirit. Joyce had thought glee club would mark the change in Buffy's attitude, but perhaps she'd been wrong. What was it that was making her daughter act out like this? As far as Joyce knew, Buffy's friends were good influences. Tina was polite and intelligent, and while Rachel could be a little showy, she was mainly delightful and ambitious. Joyce hoped they would rub off on her daughter.

"Hello?"

Joyce whirled around to see Will Schuester standing in the doorway. Another person Joyce was glad her daughter had in her life.

"Mr. Schuester, hello. I was looking for Buffy. She was supposed to wait for me here."

Mr. Schuester furrowed his brow with a frown. "She was absent today. I've been meaning to talk to her about the Spanish assignments."

Joyce groaned. "This is the last straw."

"I'm sure she didn't mean to-"

"She never means to, but she manages to, anyway. Do you have children, Mr. Schuester?"

"No, I don't. I mean, sometimes I feel like I do. Working here."

"They can be such a... I don't want to say burden but-... Actually, I do want to say burden. They are just so irresponsible!"

Will wrinkled his brow at the floor. "So... Buffy told you she'd be here?"

Joyce paused. "Yes... Is something wrong?"

Mr. Schuester shook his head, still looking troubled. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Both of their sets of eyes snapped to the doorway as they heard a bang coming from the hallway, like a door slamming shut.

"What was that?" asked Mr. Schuester.

Joyce moved forward and stuck her head out of the archway. "Probably a janitor..."

Suddenly, Joyce felt something moist scramble onto her neck and she screamed as it bit a hole into her skin.

xxx

Buffy leaned over a granite counter in the Biology lab, as Tina set both of the horrible creatures on a large silver tray, one of them the dead, full grown, slightly squashed bug from the day before and one of them the strange, hard-boiled, deformed creature that was once Cosette, Quinn and Rachel's egg-child.

Buffy looked away from the bugs to see Rachel, whimpering at the disgusting monsters, burying her head into Quinn's shoulder. Quinn's eyes were fixed on the ceiling and her face was a bright shade of pink. Kurt and Blaine were standing very close together, though carefully not touching, and looking on at the creatures with absolute disgust. Sam, Mike and Tina just stared at the bugs with little emotion on their faces.

"Ew," Kurt shook his head.

"I'll see your 'ew' and raise you a 'gross'," Buffy frowned, "Where's Will? I know he'd hate to miss this..."

"I haven't seen him," Rachel shook her head.

"Well, we should get started," said Quinn, looking away from the ceiling and fixing her gaze on the creatures, "Buffy, dissect it."

"Me?!" cried Buffy, "Why me?"

"You're the slayer," Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I slayed! My job here is done."

Buffy picked the scalpel up off of the counter and held it out for Quinn to take.

"Ew, no," Quinn wrinkled her nose at the scalpel, "I was _holding _one of those things. My disgusted quota is done for the day."

Tina leaned over and snatched the scalpel out of Buffy's hand. She expertly made a precise incision into the bug that Quinn had boiled alive, and blue-ish blood oozed out of it in thick gushes. The others winced.

"Ew," Rachel frowned, her face still half hidden behind Quinn's shoulder, "What exactly are we looking for?"

"How do we find out what these things are?" asked Kurt.

"Whatever they are, they're dangerous. I was almost attacked," said Buffy.

"Maybe they don't mean to harm us," said Tina, "Maybe they want to use us to return to the mother Bezoar."

"Yeah, maybe... Wait, what?" asked Blaine.

"What's a Bezo-" Kurt started to ask before Will appeared behind them, and knocked his and Blaine's heads together, knocking out the unsuspecting boys.

"Will!" Buffy gasped, before Tina blindsided her with a lead pipe.

Quinn whipped around, her instincts kicking in as she raised one slightly glowing hand up to Tina and held the other arm out in front of Rachel, ushering her behind.

"Stay back!" Quinn warned, her eyes darting between Tina and Will. It was futile, though, as Mike and Sam closed in, as well, the four sets of eyes as blank as zombies.

The girls were knocked out with the same hard, metal microscope.

xxx

Buffy sat up in the dark. She winced at the painful aching in her head and she opened her eyes, wide, struggling to make anything out of the figures she could just barely see in the darkness. She tentatively felt around beside her and clutched onto a slender shoulder. At her touch, the owner of the shoulder gave a small whimper.

"Rachel?" Buffy croaked.

"B-Buffy?"

"Rachel?" said another velvet-y voice that was definitely Quinn Fabray's.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked in the darkness.

Suddenly, the small janitor's closet was illuminated as Blaine switched on the dusty, orange light bulb, his Dalton jacket askew and his gelled hair a little mess up. Kurt was blinking in the corner, slumped against the wall. Buffy stood up in the cramped closet.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, her gaze flitting between Kurt and Blaine.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have a bump," said Blaine, clutching the side of his head that had been knocked into Kurt's.

"I'm gonna have a peninsula," moaned Kurt, "What the Hell is going on? Tina and Mike and Sam..."

"And Will," said Buffy, "Something to do with our hatchlings. I'm sure of that."

"Are they possessed?" asked Rachel.

"They definitely wanted us out of the way," said Quinn, grimacing as she stood up, and lended a helping hand to Rachel.

"Why not kill us?" asked Kurt, "Why drag us in here and-... Oh."

The scoobies looked in the direction of his gaze at the row of wooden shelves installed in the wall. Five eggs were sitting on one of the shelves. One of them jiggled and clicked. Buffy quickly grabbed a tool box and smashed all five of them under it, green and blue mush squishing out from underneath.

"Scrambled eggs," Buffy said coolly.

"There's never a time when you can resist making a pun," said Kurt.

Buffy spun around and kicked the door open. The five of them cautiously walked out of the closet and looked into the dark school hallway. Night had fallen while they'd been unconscious and the high school was ominously silent.

"What do we do?" asked Rachel.

"We can't fight these things until we know what they are," said Buffy.

"Tina said something," Quinn reminded them, "A name."

"Yeah, a bozo. No, not a bozo," Buffy mumbled.

"A Bezoar," said Blaine.

The other four looked at him. "What's a Bezoar?" asked Buffy.

"A demonic parasite," said Blaine, "Like, pre-prehistoric. I thought they were extinct."

"How do _you _know this?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"Long story," said Buffy.

"My parents are demonologists," Blaine explained.

"Not that long," Buffy shrugged.

"Go on," Rachel nodded to Blaine.

"Well, the mother hibernates underground and lays eggs. The offspring attaches itself to a host and controls their motor functions. The hosts then takes orders from the mother Bezoar."

The scoobies blinked at the gelled prep. "Tina is gonna love you," said Buffy, while Kurt just stared at his classmate with a perplexed expression.

"Okay, so if the hosts are taking orders from the mom, that begs the question, what does Mom want?" Quinn asked no-one in particular.

The scoobies fall silent as they heard a girl's scream in the distance. They rushed through the hallways to find the source of the screams, as someone called, "Get it off me!"

Their sneakers screeched to a stop as they found Piper Saberhagen picking herself up off the staircase. She was suddenly calm, her expression blank.

"Piper? Are you okay?" asked Buffy, staring at Piper's blond haircut and newly granted Cheerios uniform.

"Yeah. I slipped," she said, and walked away with an artificial smile.

Buffy glanced at the others once Piper was out of earshot.

"I think that's mommy calling," she said, and the scoobies moved forward to follow Piper at a hopefully discreet distance.

They watched curiously as Piper unknowingly led them to the high school's musty smelling boiler room. A hole had been dug up into the ground and they watched as Piper disappeared into it.

"Do we want to go in there?" Quinn grimaced.

"We really don't," Buffy replied.

One by one, the scoobies lowered themselves into the hole and found themselves in a dimly lit, vast underground cave, the sound of clinking and digging not too far away. As they slowly trekked through the dirt tunnels, they found dozens of their bleary-eyed classmates and teachers - including Mr. Schuester - mindlessly hitting a wall of brown rock with pickaxes.

"What are they digging up?" asked Kurt.

One of the possessed workers carried away a wide chunk of broken rock, widening the small hole the diggers had made. The scoobies quirked their faces in horror as they peered at a slimy, breathing expanse of a monster beyond the half-crumbled wall.

"Oh, boy," Buffy said under her breath.

Blaine nudged her and nodded his head to a blank-faced Tina, who was carrying away a crate of Bezoar eggs to another tunnel.

"We can't let them spread those things," said Buffy.

"I'll go," said Quinn.

"I'm coming with you," said Rachel, balling her hands into fists at her side.

"Rachel, don't-"

"There's no point in arguing with her," Buffy shook her head, "Quinn, Rachel, go. Me and the boys'll hold down the fort. Or kill it."

Quinn gave Rachel a look that was somehow both soft and astringent, and the two girls walked away. Buffy watched them go before taking another look at the dozens of workers hammering at the wall. She suddenly caught a glimpse of frizy blond hair.

"Mom?!" Buffy gasped.

Her mother turned around, a blank look on her face. She stepped forward a few paces and swung the axe hard at Buffy's head. Buffy quickly caught the shaft of the pickaxe and wrenched it away from her mother.

"Kill them," ordered a possessed Mr. Schuester, and the a number of the hosts turned around to attack.

xxx

Quinn tried to quieten her breathing as she followed Tina down a side tunnel. She hoped the rattling sound of the crate full of eggs would be louder than the sound of her heart thudding against her chest. Her forte for fire would do her no good here. These weren't just monsters or reanimated corpses; these were her classmates. Quinn supposed she could try honing some telekinesis to knock the hosts out of her way if they tried to attack her, but she'd been a little lacking in that realm of witchcraft for a while. She wished in that moment that Jesse didn't concentrate so hard on studying lunar cycles and astrology, and would get to the good stuff.

And she was hyper-aware of Rachel walking next to her just then. Trying to be discrete, Quinn side-eyed Rachel, glancing over her tightly fitted argyle sweater and matching knee socks. Suddenly, the tip of her shoe snagged on a small rock protruding from the dirt floor and Quinn fell face-first to the ground, sprawled out on it, with her palms and her knees scuffed. She winced and looked up. Tina had turned around, now aware of their presence.

Rachel quickly pulled Quinn up off of the ground as Tina left her crate of eggs. Expressionless, Tina swung a hard punch that Quinn ducked from.

"Tina," said Quinn, raising her hands, "I don't want to hurt you."

Tina swung again and hit Quinn over the head, and Quinn clutched the throbbing bump that was already there from being hit with a metal microscope. "Ow!"

Before Quinn knew it, Rachel had swung an immediate and impressive uppercut that threw Tina into unconsciousness.

"Oh my God," Rachel grimaced, clutching her hand, "I don't think I've ever punched anyone before! Oh my God, it hurts!"

Quinn smiled slightly through the searing pain in her head, reached out, and held Rachel's hand.

xxx

Buffy, Blaine and Kurt had somehow managed to pull pickaxes away from hosts who'd tried to attack them, but it wasn't slowing them down. The three scoobies were using their axes as shields, trying to stave off the blood-thirsty hosts. While a handful of them were attacking, the rest of them put their energy into ripping down the wall that separated them from their mother. Buffy knew the worst had come when she felt tentacles wrap around her ankles.

"Oh, no," she frowned. The mother was out.

The tentacle yanked at her ankle and Buffy was dragged to the ground. One of the tentacles swung a pickaxe at her face, but it landed with a thud into the ground next to her head. Blaine came into Buffy's line of vision, looking frantic with his hair frizzing just slightly in all the heat and madness. He pulled the pickaxe out of the ground and looked determinedly at Buffy.

"I'll take care of this," he said, and disappeared.

"Wait, what?" Buffy asked, trying to sit up.

Blaine ran through the hosts with his pickaxe and threw himself against the mother Bezoar. Buffy gasped as she swore she saw him get swallowed up.

"Blaine!" Kurt screamed.

There was silence for a moment as something writhed around under the thick, slimy flesh of the Bezoar. Everyone - hosts included - looked up at the mother as they heard a grunt of effort coming from inside it. Suddenly, a metal point ripped through the thick flesh and a scream that no human could ever make wailed through the underground cavern. Buffy and Kurt watched in both horror and fascination as Blaine ripped through the monster's skin from the inside, his hair and school uniform covered in gelatinous blue blood.

Buffy watched a baby Bezoar shrivel, die and fall off of Sam's back in the distance. Her boyfriend looked at the creature before meeting her gaze very briefly and fainting onto the floor. Almost everyone else did the same. Blaine stepped forward through the crowd of unconscious students and teachers. Covered in blue gunk, he innocently looked at Buffy and Kurt.

"I took care of it."

xxx

"Yeah, it was a gas leak. Just get some air. You'll be fine."

Mr. Schuester ushered everyone out of the school. People were still standing around in the parking lot, disoriented and talking to each other about the strange predicament they all found themselves in. He caught Buffy by the shoulder when she walked past.

"What really happened?" he asked her in a hushed tone.

"We'll fill you in later," she said, before walking slowly away to find her mother.

Quinn had been holding Rachel's hand the whole time and was barely noticing it anymore, as if it were just another attachment of her body.

"How are you getting home?" she asked, looking out at the horde of confused, mumbling classmates.

"My dads are picking me up," she said, smiling at Quinn, "I called them with the gas leak story."

"Oh. Well, Santana says she's on her way in Sofia's car. We try not to worry her. Between a witch and vampire, we end up in a lot of trouble."

Rachel awkwardly chewed her bottom lip at the mention of Santana. "You guys are really like sisters, huh?"

Quinn looked curiously at Rachel. "Well... Yeah. I mean, I don't condone everything she does, if that's-"

"No, it doesn't matter-"

"I just don't want you think I don't care about you."

Rachel blinked and smiled sweetly. "Thanks."

Quinn blushed and pulled her hand away from Rachel's. "Yeah, well, see you at glee club."

She stalked away, her shoulders tense, and bumped straight into Santana.

"Quinn! What happened?!" the vampire asked, shivering in a black peacoat.

"Oh, hey..." Quinn greeted her, slightly flustered, "Um, Bezoar happened."

"What?" Santana wrinkled her nose.

"Some sort of slime monster."

"I assume it's dead, right? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Slime and tentacles is just a regular school day by now, so whatever."

"Oh. Okay, well, you just look... I don't know, freaked."

"I'm fine! God! Let's go!" Quinn blushed redder.

Santana widened her eyes with mild amusement. "Right... Well, you go wait in the car. I want to check up on somebody."

Quinn rolled her pale green eyes. "Tell Brittany I said hi."

Santana pursed her lips and frowned as Quinn walked away. She partly felt a twinge of guilt because it hadn't been Brittany she'd wanted to check up on. She spotted Brittany across the parking lot, talking to Artie, and Artie's dad who was probably going to give her a ride home. Santana shook her head and walked in the opposite direction, looking for a different head of blond hair.

She spotted Buffy talking to her taller, frizzier mother, who seemed to be laying into her about something or other. Santana sighed, thinking about how hard it must be for a slayer to both save the world in secret and make her mom proud. As Santana walked forward, she caught the eye of both women.

"Uh, hi," Santana said, somehow suddenly self-conscious with Buffy's mom looking at her, "Sorry. Can I talk to Buffy for a second?"

Mrs. Summers glanced sternly at Santana for a moment. "Santana, right?" she asked.

Santana nodded, surprised Buffy's mom remembered her from their very brief introduction over a year ago.

Mrs. Summers frowned at her daughter. "Make it quick," she said, and walked back to her mini-van.

Buffy gave Santana a half-smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Picking up Quinn. She's awfully moody today."

"Yeah, well, she got hit in the head a couple times. I'm surprised she's not concussed."

"Boy, do you look grounded."

"I was already grounded," Buffy grumbled, "Now I'm confined to my bedroom. I can only come out for school and to use the bathroom. Food will be brought to me. Not even good food."

"Guess that's what you get for saving the town from imminent destruction. Kinda makes you wish your mom knew the truth, huh?"

"My mom is so never going to know the truth," Buffy shook her head.

"Your friends know."

"She is not my friend. She's my mom. She'd flip."

Santana smirked. "I get that."

"So, what's up?" Buffy asked, cutely biting her bottom lip and putting her hands on the hips of her Cheerios uniform.

"Nothing," Santana shrugged, "Um, I mean, I guess I wanted to say thanks. For talking to me about Brittany."

"Oh," Buffy exclaimed with surprise, "Well, that... was nothing."

"I feel better since I talked to you, though. I mean, Brittany has been my best friend since I was eight years old, so it was hard to step out of my own head and see that that needed to end."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's hard because... she was like the last thing that tied me to my old life. I mean, everything is different now. I have a mom who loves me and a little sister - because Quinn is my _little _sister, okay? And now I don't have Cheerios and I don't have Brittany and I'm a _vampire _and it was just hard to see that letting go of the old me might not be a bad thing."

Buffy grinned. "I'm glad I could help you see that."

"Yeah, well... Thanks. And congratulations on slaying your slimy, tentacle monster."

Buffy shrugged. "It was a group effort. And I didn't exactly slay it. Blaine did."

"Blaine?" Santana raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It was actually pretty freakin' awesome."

Across the parking lot, Blaine attempted to wipe blue goo off of his face with a handkerchief Kurt had given him.

"This is pointless," he said, still covered in slime.

Kurt knitted his eyebrows sympathetically. "It doesn't look too different from a slushie facial, actually."

"A what?"

"Nothing."

Blaine held the handkerchief out to Kurt. "Thanks."

"You can keep it," he grimaced, slightly backing away, "It's past curfew. Dalton probably called our parents by now. What are you gonna tell your dad?"

Blaine smirked proudly. "I'm gonna tell him I killed a Bezoar! He'll be so jealous!"

Kurt just raised his brow, mystified. "Well," he smirked, "I think I might have to lie to mine."

"Right," Blaine nodded.

"So... What was the big thing you needed to tell me?"

Blaine's face fell. "Oh..."

"Come on. What's the big secret, Anderson?" Kurt smiled.

Blaine looked down at his shuffling feet. "Listen, Kurt... I didn't know if I was the one who should tell you, but you have to know, so..."

Kurt looked imploringly at Blaine. "What?"

"God, I don't know how to get this out. I... I know something about your mother that you may not know."

Kurt looked more than surprised. "My mother?" he asked, his voice a little wobbly.

Blaine nodded. "I think... I mean, sources have led me to believe... Kurt, I think your mother was... um-"

"Blaine, what?!"

"A slayer."

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "I don't... No, she- How do you even-"

"I research this stuff. My parents are demonologists but I'm the only one in my family who believes in slayers. So I researched. There is Buffy. Before her was a woman from Indonesia, I believe. Then your mother. Then a woman from Detroit, I think. Everything before that gets murky-"

"Blaine, stop it. My mother was never a slayer. That's absolutely ridiculous, okay? She watched re-runs of the Love Boat and wore lavender perfume. She couldn't have been a slayer. She wasn't anything like Buffy-"

"Yeah, but you didn't really know her, Kurt," Blaine said, and then immediately wished he hadn't, "I'm sorry, Kurt. Really. We think it's why you could be having premonitions but I mean, I could be totally wrong-"

"But you don't think you are. You don't think you're wrong."

Blaine looked apologetic. "I don't think I am."

He reached out to put a hand on Kurt's shoulder but Kurt raised his arms and backed away. "I'm gonna take the bus back to my house," he said, his face getting red, "I want to stay in Lima tonight."

"Kurt, wait," said Blaine, but he was saying it to no-one, because Kurt was already sprinting away.


	50. The Attack of the Khakis

**a/n: Some of you might notice that in this chapter, I'm borrowing a storyline from the first season of Misfits. Don't worry, you don't have to ever have seen Misfits in order to understand this chapter. I hope you enjoy whether you are Misfits fans or otherwise. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

Kurt felt the harshness of the sunlight on his pale skin, flooding in from half-opened curtain. He had to blink a few times before he recognized that he was in his Lima bedroom, and not his dorm room back at Dalton academy. He had crashed there last night after the slaying of the Bezoar demon. He already felt the guilt and frustrated anger bubbling up from last night. Guilt, because he had been angry when Blaine told him the truth about his mother and Kurt had abandoned him in Lima. Surely, Blaine had gotten a ride home with one of the McKinley alum, or at the very least got his dad to pick him up, but it didn't quell Kurt's guilty conscience.

Kurt had barely slept last night, his mind riddled with questions about his mother's past. How could his father have kept this from him all this time? How could his mother continue a life as a slayer when she had a child? Was her destiny a burden? Was Kurt a burden?

Rushing to find some sort of face wash and hair product in his bedroom, Kurt got dressed and trotted reluctantly downstairs with his satchel of schoolbooks around his shoulder. As he passed through the front hall of the house and slunk past the archway to the kitchen, he winced as he heard his father call his name. Burt Hummel was the last person Kurt wanted to talk to right now. Kurt sauntered into the kitchen to see his father and his stepmom sitting at the kitchen table. Carole looked uncomfortable, her eyes flitting away as if she knew what was coming.

"Do you really think you're gonna sneak off before you tell me what the Hell happened last night?" said Burt, looking red under his baseball cap.

"Don't get worked up, Dad," Kurt said flatly, avoiding his father's eyes, "Wouldn't want you to have another heart attack."

Burt grimaced. "What's gotten into you, Kurt? Breaking your curfew at Dalton. Carole and I gave up a honeymoon to send you to that school, and don't get me wrong, we were happy to see you in a place where you feel comfortable, but the least you can do is show some respect and act like you appreciate what we've done. Is there something you don't like about it? You don't have to live at the dorms if you don't want to, Kurt."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at his dad. "Carole, can I talk to my dad alone for a minute?"

"Carole, stay. Kurt, anything you can say to me, you can say to her. What do you want to talk about?"

Kurt clenched his jaw. "I want to talk about my mother."

Burt looked slightly taken aback. "What-"

"I know the truth," Kurt stared meaningfully at Burt.

Burt was silent for several long moments. "Carole, can you excuse us?"

Carole hurried away to the next room and Burt stayed seated at the kitchen table, staring up at his son's angry eyes.

"Kurt, sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"Kurt..."

"Do you know how frustrating it is? Going my whole life never knowing who my mother really was and having a classmate have to tell me the truth?"

"Who-"

"It doesn't matter, Dad. It doesn't matter who told me, okay? Because you didn't. That's all that matters. You didn't."

Burt looked truly sorry as he stared up at his soon, his mouth a tight line and his eyes full of guilt. "Kurt, please, sit down."

"How did Mom die?" asked Kurt, close to tears, "I'm betting it wasn't a car crash. Of course it wasn't. A slayer could survive a car crash, couldn't she? Mom was strong. It had to be... a pack of vampires. A demon? Did she have no-one helping her? What about her watcher? Who was her watcher?"

Burt's eyes shifted across the surface of the kitchen table. "I don't... I don't know which question to answer first."

"Answer this one. Why didn't you tell me?"

Burt met his son's eyes. "I didn't want you to live like she did. I didn't want you to think you had to avenge your mother or something. And she never would have wanted you to know. We never told you. It wasn't just me. It was us. We didn't tell you. We thought we were protecting you. Do you even remember what your mother did for a living?"

Kurt grimaced. "I always thought she was a businesswoman, but now that I think about it, that was probably a lie, right? She didn't even own any suits."

Burt nodded. "She left us, Kurt. When you were five, I told you she was going on a business trip. She was leaving us. That was the last time you saw her."

Kurt's tears were getting hot, brimming in his eyes. He had to blink them away and take a deep breath. How could he have forgotten such a large chunk of his childhood? A time when his mother was completely absent? "Why would she leave?"

Burt sighed. "That kind of destiny isn't something you can escape, Kurt. If she didn't go looking for them, they would come looking for her. And they did, every time she tried to have a normal life. She left to protect you. And to protect me."

Kurt bit his bottom lip. "Well, she did a crappy job."

"Kurt-"

"I can't talk right now, Dad, I'm gonna be late for school and I'm sure the dean is already pissed at me."

"Kurt, wait-"

Kurt stormed off, a tear sliding down his cheek as he left the house and slid in to the front seat of his car, parked in the driveway. He took deep breaths and tried to settle down before he made the journey to Westerville. He gripped the steering wheel of his parked car and sighed heavily. He shook a little as a knock came on his window. It was Finn outside, rapping his heavy knuckles against the glass. Kurt rolled down his car window and squinted as his tall, bulky stepbrother. Finn looked somehow different this morning, with his brown hair combed and parted. He wore a yellow polo shirt, tucked into a pair of flannel khakis.

"Finn?"

"Hey, buddy," Finn looked down at Kurt with mild concern, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine, thanks."

"I heard you skipped curfew last night."

Kurt sniffed. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean to. Blaine and I kind of got pulled into the scooby gang last night."

"What are you talking about?"

"That gas leak? It was a cover up story. There was a demon underground. Those eggs in Biology class were its babies."

Finn frowned. "I wish you wouldn't hang out with Buffy."

"Why not?"

"She's bad news, Kurt. Her and her 'scooby gang'. They're always getting into trouble. You spend one night with them and end up skipping curfew."

"Yeah, but it's not like they cause the trouble, Finn. Buffy is the one stopping it."

"I don't know. It just seems like the trouble happens to be wherever they go. The whole thing is unnatural."

"This has nothing to do with Rachel?"

Finn smirked. "I'm over Rachel."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's like I was brainwashed, but now I can see that Rachel and I had an unhealthy relationship. She was abrasive and ruthless and oftentimes unfemininely controlling."

Kurt blinked at his stepbrother. Unfemininely controlling? Oftentimes?

"But it wasn't Rachel's fault. It was me. I committed adultery, which, as we both know, is a sin."

Kurt just stared up at the tall teenager. "Right... Listen, I gotta go. I don't want to be late for school."

"Of course. Have a good time in Westerville, Kurt. Don't skip your curfew anymore, though. Make some new friends at Dalton. Maybe meet a nice girl."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Uh, Finn? Gay, remember?"

Finn just shook his head. "You just haven't met the right girl yet."

And with that homophobic sentiment unusual for even Finn, the boy walked back into his house, leaving Kurt gaping after him. He had to text Buffy. Clearly, his brother was possessed.

xxx

Buffy slid her books into her locker as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She removed it and read the text from Kurt.

**Something weird going on. Had a dream last nite about kitchen appliances. Don't know what that means, but i think Finn is possessed. He's brushing his hair + wearing pastels + saying adultery is a sin + being weirdly homophobic. Txt back soon.**

Buffy wrinkled her nose at the message. Kitchen appliances meant very little to her, as well, and as for Finn? She had an odd feeling that Kurt was overreacting. She put her phone back into her pocket and closed her locker door to see Brittany at the end of the hall, her long blond hair swishing behind her shoulders as she laughed and talked to Artie at their lockers. Buffy couldn't help but smile just a little bit, thinking about how Santana was finally letting go. She was glad Santana would feel free again, and selfishly thought how good it would be not to have to hear her lament about her lost love anymore.

It wasn't that she found Santana's lamenting annoying. In fact, Buffy loved to hear Santana ranting, especially when it turned into a heated Spanish argument with herself. But Buffy hated hearing about how perfect Brittany was. Not that Brittany wasn't sweet. But Brittany wasn't God's gift, either. Buffy hoped it wasn't some kind of backwards jealousy speaking. After all, back when they were just getting to know each other, Santana told Buffy that she reminded her of Brittany. Buffy wasn't sure whether to be complemented by that or not. The statement's meaning plagued her more than it should.

With Santana at the back of her thoughts, Buffy walked through McKinley's hallways, looking out for Tina's black hair. She spotted the girl next to her tall, thin boyfriend, standing beside the doors to the cafeteria.

"Hey, Tina," said Buffy, meaning to ask her if kitchen appliances had any meaning in the dream world.

"Hey, Buffy," Tina greeted without taking her eyes away from the entrance to the cafeteria.

"What are you looking at?" asked Buffy.

The couple stayed silent and Mike simply nodded in the direction of the cafeteria doors. Buffy looked in the same direction and saw Morgan Ru standing on one of the cafeteria tables, practically the entire school raptly listening to her speak like a preacher.

"I used to be a slut," Morgan said loudly.

Buffy almost spluttered. Even the lunch ladies were listening.

"I took part in disgusting, perverted, unnatural acts. I used to drink. I used bad language all the time. I called my mom... a bitch."

A few of the listeners closest to Morgan gasped. Buffy snorted.

"But I'm not like that anymore," said Morgan, standing above the others in her Cheerios uniform, "I'm a good person."

A few of the listeners began to clap, but the brunt of people just walked away, chuckling or rolling their eyes.

"That is so unnatural," said Tina, folding her arms as she continued to stare into the cafeteria.

"Is this the same girl who almost crashed her dad's Miata because she kicked the gear shift while having sex?" Mike asked aloud.

"What is this?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

Tina shook her head. "A bunch of kids are having this 'good person' rally. Talking about the dangers of sex and alcohol. Some of the girls who used to be in the Christ Crusaders. Morgan. Some girl named Penny. Brett Donovan."

Buffy looked surprised. "Brett Donovan? The Weed King, Brett? Brett who smells homeless?"

Tina nodded her head. "Not anymore."

Buffy looked back at the small crowd talking in the cafeteria and spotted a boy who looked like he could have been Brett's preppy brother. His dark red hair was cut and combed to one side, and his face was clean and pink and lightly freckled.

"That's Brett?" Buffy gasped, just barely recognizing the boy without his long, greasy tendrils of unwashed hair or the glazed over look in his eyes. Even his clothes were different. Pastel and khakis.

"I think the Christ Crusaders are in hyper-drive recruiting mode," said Mike.

"I'll say," said Buffy, "Kurt texted me, saying that Finn started wearing khakis and acting all sanctimonious. I thought he was overreacting, but I maybe not."

Tina shook her head. "Next thing you know, they've started a cult."

"The khaki cult," said Mike.

Buffy blinked as a blond boy passed behind her.

"Sam!" Buffy called. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him. A blue polo under a pink (pink!) argyle sweater. And khakis! Khakis!

Sam turned to look at her, his blond hair combed to one side. "Oh, Buffy. Can I help you?"

Tina and Mike gaped at Buffy's boyfriend. "Can you help me?" Buffy asked.

Sam smiled blithely. "Do you have a question?"

Buffy stared at him, slack-jawed.

"I have a question," said Mike, "Why are you dressed like Mr. Rogers?"

Sam smirked. "There's a meeting in the Lima Community Centre tonight. Why don't you come and find out?"

Sam smiled cryptically and walked away with his backpack strapped around his shoulders.

"Something's wrong..." said Tina, "Seriously wrong."

xxx

Quinn stormed down the hallway with her hands on the hips of her Cheerios uniform. She didn't quite know where she was going or who she was looking for. She just knew she was keeping her eyes peeled for someone to vent to. She tensed her shoulders when she saw Rachel at her locker, straightening her post-its in a little denim skirt and a navy sweater set. Quinn strode forward and slammed Rachel's locker door shut, making the girl jump.

"Quinn!"

"What is going on with this school today?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you hear about Morgan's stupid little rally in the cafeteria this morning? Preaching about religion and abstinence?! As if! That was my thing! Until I got pregnant..."

Rachel smiled warmly. "Quinn, you don't have to worry about Morgan Ru eclipsing your memory. You're a legend. Always will be."

Quinn's breathing calmed a little and she looked guiltily at the floor. "I don't know what I'm getting so upset about. I don't know if I even want this anymore. The popularity. God, I don't even want to be a cheerleader."

"So don't be one," Rachel smiled simply, "You have so much going for you already. You're beautiful and intelligent and a natural leader."

Quinn blushed. "I don't know why you're so nice to me," she said quietly, "I don't deserve it."

"Don't say that. You've been through so much and you're a better person for it. I admire you, Quinn, really. Being able to just call you my friend means the world to me."

Quinn sighed. "I messed up being your friend once. A few times."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"And I make fiascos."

"Quinn-"

"I really don't know how to be your friend. I'm not Buffy or Tina. I can't just be normal and hang out. I know I look indifferent all the time but it's usually because I'm afraid to show people just how anxious I am. I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm not good with people."

Rachel let her eyes settle on Quinn's face before she took the girl's smooth, warm hand and held it in between both of hers. Quinn felt a tingle in her spine and a warm feeling at the touch of Rachel's palms. She had a strange urge to throw herself forward and hug the girl, and breathe in whatever mixture of soap and perfume she smelled like. She also felt an equal urge to jerk her hand away and clasp it behind her back. She self-consciously looked around at the other people in the hallway, but the sparse amount of students weren't paying them any attention.

"You don't need to be some popular social butterfly to be my friend," said Rachel, "You don't need to always have something charming or charismatic or witty to say. And I don't admire you because you're cool or popular. I admire you, Quinn, because you're graceful in any situation. Because you're intelligent beyond the realm of academics. Because you're strong and feminine and spirited. Because what you want, you get. Just be you, okay? There's no one else like you."

Quinn pursed her lips and was little more than limp as Rachel pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her waist, leaning in for a hug. Quinn let her tuck her chin into her shoulder and felt her brown hair against her cheek. Quinn closed her eyes and noted that it smelled like strawberries. Quinn even stepped out of her comfort zone and hugged back for one blissful moment. She splayed her hands against the small of Rachel's back and smiled to herself.

When Rachel pulled back, Quinn was blushing, and found herself trying to look anywhere but at the girl she'd just hugged.

"Thanks, Rachel," she said lamely and quickly walked away in her white Keds.

She turned the corner and immediately her stomach was churning with a lot of feelings she'd rather have kept hidden. Mostly, though, she was embarrassed. Embarrassed for hugging the girl she was supposed to hate and enjoying it so damn much. She felt a burning through all of her body and she wanted it extinguished. She'd rather feel nothing than feel anything for Rachel Berry. Quinn raised her head and spotted a familiar mohawk down the hall.

"Puckerman," she grunted as she passed the boy in his low hanging jeans and tight white t-shirt.

"Hey, MILF," smirked Puck, leaning against a row of lockers.

"Girls room," Quinn ordered, "Now."

Next thing she knew, Quinn had Noah Puckerman crammed in a bathroom stall and was kissing his neck. He kept opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing quite how to react to the sudden interest Quinn was showing him. Quinn ran her fingers under his shirt to feel his abs, and then decided against it almost as soon as she had done it.

"Kiss my neck," she ordered him.

"Um, okay," he said enthusiastically, and put his hands on her hips to hitch her up slightly and kiss her neck.

Quinn sighed as his hands moved up her skirt. "Okay, stop," she said.

"Quinn, what are you-"

Quinn leaned forward and put her hands on his face, pulling him close and sticking her tongue in his mouth. He leaned into the kiss with fervor. Quinn pulled back and looked at his face for a moment.

"I'm done," she said, simply.

"What do you mean? What were we doing?"

"I wanted to see if I still had feelings for you. I don't," Quinn said coldly and straightened her skirt.

Puck frowned and pushed the stall door open, stomping out without a word. Quinn grimaced and tightened her ponytail, straightening up as she noticed someone standing at the sinks. Penny Larson, from homeroom, and one of Morgan's new Christ Crusader friend. Crap, thought Quinn. Penny was side-eyeing her, frowning disapprovingly, standing at the sink with a long tartan skirt and a pink pastel sweater.

Quinn looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was pale. How was it that she blushed when Rachel Berry gave her a hug but felt close to nothing after being caught making out with her baby daddy in a girl's room cubicle? Quinn tore her eyes away from her reflection and noticed Penny still staring at her, frowning righteously.

"What?!" Quinn snapped.

"Don't you have any shame?" asked Penny, her strawberry blond hair bone straight and ending at her shoulders.

Quinn sneered. "Don't you have any dress sense? You look like a beanie baby."

"And you look like a slut."

"Excuse me?!"

"Do you think having sex with boys will make them respect you? If you behave like a slut, they'll treat you like a slut."

Quinn stared at Penny. "You might want to mind your own business."

Penny stared into Quinn's eyes, looking severe. "You don't need to behave like this. You can be so much better."

Quinn looked back at her, wide-eyed.

xxx

Santana paced outside of Quinn's bedroom. School had ended hours ago and she still wasn't home. Santana supposed she might be training with Jesse, but really hoped she wasn't. It was one of those days when Santana really needed a sister to talk to. She tapped her fingertips together and bit her bottom lip. Damn it, Quinn, she thought, Hurry up! Just as she'd spoken too soon, Quinn walked up to the landing with her backpack strapped over her back.

"Quinn, finally," Santana groaned, before she noticed something different about the girl, "Where's your Cheerios uniform?"

Quinn smiled up at Santana, looking simply blissful. "Hello, Santana. I quit Cheerios."

"You quit? Why?"

"I wasn't getting anything out of it anymore. The girls in the squad were the wrong kind of crowd for me to hang out with."

"Okay. Did you have to trade it in for that sucktastic get-up? It looks like Rachel Berry dressed you this morning. Is that a khaki skirt? And I'm sorry, what shade of vomit is that sweater set? Quinn, what happened to you?"

Quinn just smiled and walked into her bedroom, setting her backpack down beside her desk as Santana followed her in.

"I don't mind if you make fun of me," said Quinn, "I know it's just because you're insecure."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Be like that. But I need to talk to you."

Quinn smiled up at Santana and sat down at her computer desk. "What can I help you with?"

Santana sat at the edge of Quinn's bed. "I don't know if you can help me. I just need to vent, okay?"

"Alright."

"I have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"A problem where I'm a total masochist and want to sabotage my whole life."

"Pardon?"

"It's Buffy."

"What did Buffy do now?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"It's not her fault. It's my fault. I'm like some sort of pathetic abduction victim who latches on to their hero. God, it's so embarrassing."

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Buffy helped me get over Brittany and now it's like... Buffy's all I can think about. I mean, just shoot me in the head. What is my problem?"

Quinn sighed and leaned forward, her blond hair held back by a thick headband. "Listen, Santana, you don't have to feel bad about unwanted urges and emotions. It's not your fault. Blame the sin, not the sinner."

"...What are talking about?"

"I mean, you're not the only one to have inappropriate feelings. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've felt those kind of feelings for Rachel Berry."

Santana's mouth dropped open. "Rachel Berry?"

Quinn nodded. "I know, it's shameful."

"No, I guess I'm just... surprised to hear you admit it."

"Yes. But now I can see that feelings like that shouldn never be acted on. It's okay to be sexually confused as long as we abstain from any sordid activity until we're married. To men."

Santana furrowed her brow. "Quinn, what... What are you talking about?"

"I know you're confused, Santana, about Buffy and Brittany, but homosexuality is a sin, and so is sex before marriage. I've repented. So should you."

"Okay. I don't know what game you're trying to play right now, but you're talking like a freak and you look Amish, so get some sleep and maybe we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Jesus loves you, Santana. Love him back."

Santana stood up and looked down at her friend. "Maybe later."


	51. The Christ Crusaders

Santana had to get out of the house and let herself breathe that night. Quinn was being weird and Sofia was being smothering. Santana needed time to think. Even though, truthfully, there was only one thing on her mind. Santana truly did find herself pathetic for this stupid crush on Buffy Summers. She had _just _gotten over Brittany, hadn't she? Couldn't she hold off from pining over pretty blondes for a _second_?

She liked to think she wasn't just shallow, though. She liked to think that Buffy was just the kind of girl you fell in love with. No-one was to blame. It was like the slayer had this indescribable thing about her. The attitude and the sarcasm and the cuteness. She had her own way of speaking and her own way of everything, for that matter. Santana liked that more than anything. She liked the thought that something so dark could be wrapped under some so sweet.

Or maybe it was Buffy's shiny hair or her slender thighs. Or maybe it was the way she wore boots and leather jackets with her cheerleading uniform. Maybe it was the short, frayed haircut she'd gotten last summer. Maybe Santana was just addicted to love. Maybe Santana was just addicted to pain.

God, and _there she was_, walking down the street towards Santana with her hands shoved into her jacket. She looked adorable and determined, like she was headed to kick someone's ass.

"Slayer," Santana called, trying to force indifference into her voice.

The slayer looked over from where she paced across the street. "Hey," Buffy greeted as the women met each other in the middle of the empty suburban road, "What are you doing?"

"Lurking," Santana smirked, "You look like you're headed to slay something. Can I come?"

"Sure. I'm not so much sure that the slaying is required, though. Something weird is going on with everybody at school."

"Wierd, like, stunningly quiet and smiley and beige, weird?"

"Yeah," Buffy widened her hazel eyes, "How did you know?"

"Quinn told me about how homosexuality is a sin," shrugged Santana, "I mean, I know she's a little conservative, but I thought that was a bit uncharacteristic, don't ya think?"

Buffy nodded. "It must be brainwashing. I'm going to the community centre to see."

"What's at the community centre?"

"Sam says there's a Christ Crusaders meeting tonight and like, half the school is showing up dressed in uniform off-white."

Santana bit the inside of her cheek at the mention of Buffy's boyfriend. It reminded her to stop being so damn giddy every time she thought about Buffy. There were a million reasons to give up on this new infatuation. One of them was that Buffy had a boyfriend, and Santana was done being a homewrecker. Another was that, _hello_, Buffy was a slayer and Santana was a vampire. Another would be that Buffy probably wasn't into girls. The biggest one was that Santana's _soul _would _evaporate _if she found perfect happiness.

The girls found their way to the Lima community centre and stepped into the foyer, looking around for people dressed in pastel. All they found was Kurt with a bored look in his feline eyes, sitting on one of the polyester chairs.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?" asked Buffy.

"Finn told me to come to this meeting tonight," Kurt shrugged, standing up in his Vivienne Westwood ensemble, "I figured I show up to try to find out what kind of cult had bodysnatched him."

"We were here for the same thing," said Santana, dropping her hip with one foot kicked out.

"Well, I think we got here too late," Kurt yawned, "Nobody's around."

"Hey!" Buffy called out over Kurt's shoulder, "Stoner Brett!"

The others looked down the hall to see the boy with the dark red hair and the pale face, with a loose yellow argyle sweater tied over his skinny shoulders.

"It's not Stoner Brett anymore," he said, smiling with his fresh new haircut, "It's just Brett."

"That's so weird," Kurt wrinkled his nose, "Brett, you smell like lavender."

Brett beamed. "Well, I got my life together, Kurt. I threw out all of my marijuana, stopped listening to the Baha Men and started taking more showers."

"And joined the Christ Crusaders, right?" asked Buffy.

"That's right," Brett smiled, "Best decision of my life."

"Right," Buffy smiled broadly, "Say, the God squad wouldn't be around tonight, would they?"

"No, you must have missed the meeting," Brett shrugged, "Sorry. Maybe you'll make the next one."

"Yeah, maybe," Buffy sighed with disappointment, "Thanks, Sto- I mean, Brett."

"No problem. Have a good night, you guys," Brett smiled and walked away down the hall in his beige flannel pants.

"What we do now?" Kurt set his hands on his hips.

"Maybe we should just wait until tomorrow," said Santana, "I mean, they're not in any immediate danger, so what's the big deal? _Oh no, everyone's stopped doing drugs and having sex!_"

"Wait a second," Buffy raised an eyebrow, "I think my Spidey senses are tingling."

"You've spent too much time with Sam," Kurt smirked.

"What is it, Killer?" asked Santana.

"If the meeting's over, then where did Brett go?" Buffy asked aloud, staring down the empty hall of the community centre.

"Anyone up for some good old-fashioned night stalking?" asked Kurt.

The three of them followed Brett down the hallway, keeping an inconspicuous distance and watched as he walked through a door to one of the meeting rooms. Each of the three piled over each other to look through the window in the closed door, looking like a scene from Scooby Doo. There was the whole herd of them - Penny, Morgan, Brett, Quinn, Finn, even Karofsky and Azimio - dressed in their yuppie costumes and standing among a bunch of plastic chairs.

A few of the football guys came in through the back, grunting as they tugged people along with them, their wrists tied together with frayed rope and their heads concealed under burlap sacks. There were at least six people being dragged in, tied up with their vision compromised. One of the hostages were set down on a plastic chair, and Penny walked forward to remove the sack from their head. Buffy was shocked to see it was Mike, red in the face.

Buffy gasped. If they had captured Mike, then it was only fair to assume that one of those girls with their heads concealed were Rachel or Tina. Buffy hand darted to the door knob, but Santana quickly caught her wrist.

"They have my friends!" Buffy hissed.

"Just wait, Slayer," said Santana, knitting her eyebrows as she stared through the small window in the door.

Penny was talking to Mike. The three of them had no idea what she was saying, but she seemed calm - even friendly. Mike was staring up at her with wide eyes and seemed to looked more and more with relieved with each passing second. When Penny quickly finished talking, some of the Khaki Crew helped untie Mike. Buffy raised her eyebrows in confusion as Penny and Mike leaned forward and hugged.

"_What _is going on?" she shook her head.

"I don't know," said Santana, "But don't go in there. Not yet. It's not all those Westboro Baptists you need to deal with. It's Penny."

xxx

Quinn got up early the next morning so she'd have time to have a half-hour run before breakfast. She went back home, careful not to wake anyone, and took a lengthy shower. She brushed her hair and decided not to wear makeup today. She reminded herself that her appearance didn't define her as a person. She smiled at herself in the mirror. It was a happy smile, albeit artificial.

With her cream-colored headband gingerly secured around her golden hair, she skipped downstairs, eagerly sniffing the air for the smell of bacon and eggs. She could hear breakfast crackling in the kitchen and Sofia talking to someone. _That's odd_, thought Quinn.

She walked through the arch to the kitchen to see Sofia cooking bacon at the stove and Jesse sitting at the island counter, sipping grapefruit juice. He looked up and raised his eyebrow at Quinn, his lip curling up.

"Quinn..." he greeted her.

"Hello, Jesse," Quinn smiled vacantly.

Jesse just looked at her up and down. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't this. It wasn't headband and cable knit tights. She looked like Rachel Berry.

"Good morning, Queen," Sofia beamed.

"Good morning, Sofia. Jesse, what are you doing here?"

Jesse clenched his jaw as he looked from her pleated skirt to her face. "I, uh... I was going to offer you a ride to school."

Quinn smiled sweetly. "That's thoughtful, Jesse, but my friends from school are picking me up."

"Quinn," Jesse sighed, "What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why are you dressing like an extra in Spring Awakening?" he asked, "And why have you been skipping training?"

"Jes, Queen," Sofia said over her shoulder, "Jou have to follow through weeth jour commeetments."

Quinn's mouth fell open. "I _do _follow through with my commitments, I just... I apologize, Jesse. I should have told you. I'm giving up witchcraft."

Jesse spluttered. "Like Hell you are."

"Excuse me?"

"Quinn, you're one of the most naturally powerful wiccans I've ever met. Giving up witchcraft would be the biggest mistake you could ever make!" He leaned in, his voice now hushed. "Did you forget why you started training with me in the first place?"

Quinn pursed her lips. "Jesse," she said quietly, "Witchcraft is the work of the devil."

Jesse eyes widened. "You've been brainwashed."

"No, I have not," Quinn rolled her eyes with a condescending smile, "I've just been shown the path to righteousness."

"Queen," Sofia furrowed her brow, "What are jou talkeeng about?"

Jesse stood up and raised three fingers to Quinn's forehead, keeping them at her temple for a few moments, whispering, "Orcis liberare mens ista peregrinæ magicae."

Quinn blinked and crinkled her forehead in confusion, looking as if she'd just caught her breath.

"Jesse..." she breathed.

Jesse folded his arms over his dark sweater, looking serious and somehow smug. "You let yourself get brainwashed, Fabray. Very amateur."

xxx

Buffy cupped her knees and held them to her chest on the living room couch, watching with silent horror as Rod Remington grinned cheesily behind her TV screen.

"Already, the Christ Crusaders have made a definite impact on William McKinley High School. The president of the celibacy club, Penny Larson, claims they won't stop until her they've has spread the word of righteousness throughout the town," he said, flashing his veneers.

The camera cut to Penny standing in an alcove at McKinley, talking candidly into a microphone.

"It's not just about celibacy," she said with excitement, "It's about returning to the kind of moral values that were left behind long before this generation. The sex, the felonies, the anti-social behavior... You don't have to behave like this. You can be so much better."

Buffy shuddered as her mother walked in, in the midst of fastening a pearl to her ear.

"Doesn't that girl go to your school?" asked Joyce, peering down at the screen.

"Uh huh."

"That club is doing a wonderful thing for the community, Buffy. Maybe she'll rub off on you."

Buffy grimaced. "Let's hope not," she said under her breath.

xxx

Quinn had stripped the beige and olive green fabric off of her skin and had slipped a Kate Spade dress on instead. She wasn't mad that she'd missed training with Jesse. She wasn't even mad that she had quit the Cheerios. But she was mad that she had spent three weeks of allowance on a shopping spree at Land's End and didn't even get a cute belt or a hat. She was glad Jesse was there to drive her to school because she was in no shape to get behind the steering wheel.

"When I see Penny Larson I'm gonna melt her head off," Quinn said heatedly.

"Now, now," Jesse smirked, "We're going to go about this like civilized persons, Quinn. We're going to go tattle-tell to that demon hunter in your class, and _she _will melt Penny's head off."

"She's called a slayer, Jesse," Quinn rolled her eyes, "And she can't melt anyone's head off. I mean, she could probably roundhouse kick her to a bloody pulp-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright?"

Jesse pulled his SUV into the parking lot of McKinley High and was one step behind Quinn as they stormed into the school, looking for Buffy Summers amidst the neutral colors. As the bell rang and students hurried to class at a faster pace than was usual, Quinn spotted her glee club teacher rushing down the hall.

"Mr. Schuester!" she called, "I need to talk to you!"

"Hello, Quinn," Mr. Schuester smirked, "What do you need to talk about?"

"It's about the Christ Crusaders-"

"Are you joining?!" he asked excitedly, "It's such a good way to get you on the right path, Quinn. I'm glad to see you trying to better yourself."

With her mouth hung open, Quinn looked up and down at her teacher's outfit. The coral sweater set should have been a red flag.

"Have you seen Buffy?" asked Jesse, "We wanted to recruit her."

Mr. Schuester blinked at Jesse. "Didn't you go to Carmel High?"

"I transferred."

"I thought you graduated?"

"Held back! So, can you tell us where Buffy is?!" Jesse asked loudly in the now near silent hall.

"She's here."

Quinn and Jesse turned around to see Buffy walking towards them in a Cheerios uniform, a gray hoodie slung over her shoulders.

"You kids better get to class," smiled Mr. Schuester.

"Right," Quinn beamed, "We're just going to take Buffy off to a Christ Crusaders meeting-"

"No, you are not!" Buffy widened her eyes.

Quinn gritted her teeth and glared at Buffy with her back to Mr. Schuester. "Buffy. We need to talk about some of the issues around here."

Buffy looked dubiously between Quinn and Jesse's knowing looks. "Uh... Okay."

"Great," smiled Quinn, "We'll see you later, Mr. Schuester."

"See you later, kids."

With Quinn and Jesse on her either side, Buffy was dragged away to an empty classroom. Quinn shut the door behind her and rested her back against it, looking bewildered.

"Needless to say, there is a problem with the people who go to your school," said Jesse, resting his hands on his hips.

"I thought they brainwashed you," said Buffy, looking up and down at Quinn in her vintage clothing.

"They did," Quinn gritted her teeth, slightly embarrassed, "Jesse un-brainwashed me."

"You can do that?" Buffy asked, looking over at Jesse with surprise, "Rachel mentioned you studied magic, but-"

"You told Rachel that I study magic?!" Jesse questioned Quinn with his dark eyebrows raised.

"We have a bigger problem right now!" Quinn snapped.

"Can you un-brainwash the others?" asked Buffy.

"I don't have enough magical energy to reverse the hexes put on everyone in the entire school," Jesse sighed, "And even if I did, I doubt any of these zombies are just going to line up to be demoralized. What we have to do is get to the root cause."

"Penny," Buffy said aloud.

"I suggested we melt her head off," Quinn said bitterly.

"I don't know if we ought to go that far," said Buffy, "But Penny Larson must be stopped. That's for sure. I know I need my research team."

"You have a research team?" Jesse cocked one eyebrow, impressed.

"Rachel and Tina are her research team," Quinn said listlessly.

"We gotta go back out there and find them, okay?" asked Buffy.

"What if we find Penny first?" asked Quinn.

"Well, this time we know what to expect. Do you guys have your iPods?" asked Buffy.

Jesse removed his iTouch from his faux leather jacket pocket and Quinn took out her travel-sized shuffle as Buffy stuck one purple earphone in, quickly connecting them to her cellphone. Quinn and Buffy turned on the first loud song that came up, while Jesse scrolled through his mp3 player, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Jesse, what are you doing?" asked Quinn.

"These kind of moments need the perfect soundtrack, Quinn," he replied with his eyes glued to the small screen.

Buffy watched impatiently as a Linkin Park song flooded into one of her ears. "Did you find it yet?"

Jesse smirked at his iTouch and returned it to his pocket with a smug grin. "Oh, yes. The Skrillex remix of 'In For The Kill' by the British electropop duo, La Roux. The original has been on my Top 25 Most Played since its release in 2009, but this remix was just made for kicking ass."

"Thank you for the play-by-play," Quinn groaned as one ear was bombarded by the sounds of The Pretty Reckless.

"Let's get this party started," Jesse said with determination and walked out the classroom, the girls following with reluctant grins.

Quinn and Jesse veered onto a different route from Buffy, heading towards the school's northern exit, their respective iPods playing loud in their ears. Quinn screeched to a stop in her ankle boots, Jesse stopping short closely after her as an almost unrecognizable Noah Puckerman walked towards them. He walked forward with a smile in his tight, powder blue sweater and, of course, khaki pants. He had a clear box of thumbtacks in one hand and posters for the Christ Crusaders hanging over the other arm. He said something with a smile, but Quinn and Jesse couldn't hear him with their iPods in.

"Hello, Noah!" Quinn said loudly, her voice only a quiet muffle in her own ears.

"I was just taking Quinn to her dentist appointment!" yelled Jesse.

"I had some bad meat in my breakfast burrito!" said Quinn, "I'm going home!"

Puck furrowed his brow at the duo as they brushed past him with nervous expressions.

Buffy had ventured further into the school. No-one had been in the choir room, but she could see from here that Rachel was milling around behind the murky glass walls of Mr. Schuester's office. Buffy couldn't tell, however, if her friend had been brainwashed or not, because argyle, flannel and khaki were actually pretty usual for Rachel.

Buffy walked into the office and locked the door behind her, with 'Bleed It Out' blasting in her ears. She grimaced as Rachel painted the finishing touches on a Christ Crusaders poster.

"Hello, Buffy," Rachel greeted with a warm smile, "Mr. Schuester let me use his office to make posters for the Christ Crusaders. Do you want to help?" But Buffy couldn't hear her.

"Rachel! You've been brainwashed! I know that brainwashed you probably isn't vastly different from the real you, but still! You have to come with me so Jesse can fix you!"

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Buffy, you're not making any sense. I should take you to see Penny."

"I didn't want to have to use my powers against you but if you won't come with me, I'm going to have to make you!"

Buffy gripped Rachel's waist and tried to throw the skinny girl over her shoulder, but to Buffy's surprise, Rachel wriggled around like a slippery fish. Rachel shouted for help as she slipped in and out of Buffy's forceful holds, trying to reach for the door. Rachel looked up slightly as she heard someone banging on the thick glass door.

"Penny, help me!" Rachel shouted as she fought against Buffy's arms.

"Buffy!" shouted Penny, "Buffy, listen to me! You don't have to behave like this! You can be so much better!"

"She has her earphones in!" Rachel called.

"Rip her earphones _out_, Rachel!" Penny ordered with frustration.

xxx

Quinn and Jesse bounded down the steps at the entrance of McKinley High with their earphones in, and Quinn collided right into Sam Evans, with his gold hair parted and a yellow, button-down shirt over his broad shoulders.

"Sam!" Quinn said too loudly, music encompassing her hearing.

"Quinn. What are you doing?" Sam asked, his full lips stretched out in a broad smile.

"You've been brainwashed!" Quinn shouted, "We're here to help you!"

"What are you talking about?"

Quinn lightly hit Jesse's shoulder and pointed at Sam. "Fix him!"

Jesse clenched his jaw and held his fingers out to Sam's forehead. Sam quickly smacked Jesse's hand away.

"What are you two up to?" asked Sam, now frowning.

"We're here to help you!" shouted Jesse.

Quinn nudged Jesse and nodded behind Sam as a very large crowd of the Christ Crusaders were curiously walking towards them, warned by the volume of their voices. Quinn and Jesse started to back away, only peaking the suspicions of the Christ Crusaders. Sam and the others quickly decided to follow them, until Quinn and Jesse started running at a fast pace. The God squad had the good advantage of being much faster than actual zombies, and soon a sizeable crowd of them were on Quinn and Jesse's tail. They tried to circle around the parking lot but found that they were soon surrounded, standing back to back as the Christ Crusaders ominously neared them.

Suddenly, a chunk of the students sprinted out of the way as a Range Rover speeded up to them. The car quickly stopped and the passenger seat was thrown open, and the driver's window rolled down. Kurt stuck his head out of the car window and frowned at Quinn and Jesse.

"Get in!"

Quinn and Jesse darted away from the dangerous crowd and threw themselves into Kurt's car, not yet buckling their seatbelts before Kurt sped off, away from McKinley High.

"I couldn't stay at Dalton today," said Kurt as Quinn and Jesse settled in the backseat, "I had a dream last night."

"A dream about what?" asked Quinn.

Kurt grimaced. "Something bad's gonna happen to Buffy."

xxx

Moonlight and lamplight barely illuminated the Lima Community Centre after nightfall, but Kurt could still see several groups of Christ Crusaders heading inside, he could only assume for another brainwashing session. Kurt had to shudder at the thought of Buffy tucked into a beige cotton dress and a headband made from the same material, but that's exactly what he'd seen in his dream.

"Buffy, please, call me back as soon as you get this," Kurt left yet another voicemail to his friend's phone.

"What if Penny did brainwashed her?" asked Jesse, "I mean, what are we supposed to do without a slayer? I'm probably the most powerful person here, but investigating crimes of the paranormal isn't exactly my _thing_."

The trio jumped slightly as a knock came on the closed window of the passenger seat. Kurt sighed and opened the door to let Santana slide in, in her skintight purple dress.

"Okay, please explain to me what is going on and where is the slayer?" she asked immediately.

"Long story short," said Quinn, "Jesse un-brainwashed me but now Buffy's M.I.A."

Santana sighed. "And the God squad? Let me guess, still reprogramming impressionable teens left and right?"

Kurt nodded. "They're having another 'meeting' in the community centre."

"First things first. We need to find Buffy," said Santana, "If she's been brainwashed and she never made it to the community centre, I'm willing to bet that she made it home well within her curfew."

Kurt drove to Rovello Drive and let Santana out to scale the side of the house, grabbing handfuls of drainage pipe and ivy. She hoisted herself over Buffy's window ledge and flicked the light switch on in the empty room. After all this time, she could still marvel at how normal Buffy's bedroom was. The floral bedspread, the lemonade bottle full of Skittles, the smiling stuffed pig. Then, Santana would remember the weapons and holy water hidden in the secret compartment in the purple chest at the end of Buffy's bed. Something so dark wrapped under something so sweet.

The door opened and Buffy walked in, quickly closing the door behind her with a stern expression on her face. Santana dropped her jaw at the sight of her. A beige dress that flowed past her knees and a cotton headband. Her hair was smoothed and curled. Not at all her now trademark head of wispy shoulder-length spikes.

"Santana," Buffy said placidly, "What are you doing in my room?"

Santana stared at Buffy's face. "Oh, God. Look at you. Look at what they did to you!"

"What do you mean, Santana?"

"The Flannel Freaks! The Pastel Patsies! The Jesus Groupies! They brainwashed you!"

Buffy frowned. "No, they didn't."

"You look ridiculous."

Buffy looked down at her dress and her dark brown loafers. "I think I look nice..."

"Well, sure... By regular standards, sure, Buffy, you look nice. But come on, this is not you. Dresses and headbands? Please! You are a child of leather and boots and 90s haircuts!"

"I was a terrible person," Buffy said seriously.

Santana looked lost for words, her eyes darting from Buffy to Buffy's girly room to the pictures of Buffy and her glee club friends on the desk. "No, you're not... You're the best person I know."

"Santana, I skipped class all the time. I got terrible grades. I dressed like a slut and stayed out past curfew and broke my poor mother's heart-"

"You were saving the world! You saved people's lives, okay? Generally, your personal life tends to take a backseat when you're a superhero."

Buffy snorted. "Superhero? If anything, I was a vigilante, with the fighting and the staking and the killing... We should be ashamed of ourselves for bringing so much misery into the world. We're ladies. Not soldiers. That's not my job. Marching around playing battlefield. Only God can decide who deserves to live or die."

Santana clenched her jaw. "If only you knew... You're the person everyone should be trying to be. Not Penny Larson. Not the model citizen. You, Buffy Summers, the girl who gives up everything time and time again to make the world a better place. You risk your life on a daily basis and for what? No-one thanks you or gives you a break. You don't even get paid. You do it because you know that if you don't, no one will. You're a goddamn superhero, Buffy Summers, and not because of the super strength or the spidey sense... But because you're the best person I know. And I love you."

Santana leaned forward and gently kissed Buffy on the cheek, Buffy blushing pink at the touch of Santana's lips. Santana leaned back and Buffy stared hard at her with her lips pursed tightly.

"That was wildly inappropriate," Buffy frowned.

Santana sighed sadly. "I'll leave now."

Buffy watched her curiously as she climbed back out of the window and down the side of the house, swiftly sprinting back to Kurt's car parked on the curb.

"So?" Kurt asked urgently as Santana rested her head back in the passenger seat.

"It's not good," she replied.

The other three groaned with disappointment.

"What are we supposed to do?" Quinn asked aloud.

Santana breathed slowly through her nose. "Slayer or no slayer, Penny has to be stopped."

"Agreed," said Kurt, "But how are we supposed to stop her?"

Santana pursed her lips in thought. "You guys will have to do it without me, tomorrow at McKinley. But before you get there, you're gonna have to make a stop at Sears."

xxx

Quinn, Jesse and Kurt walked into McKinley High, their stomachs churning and their shoulders stiff. They had stopped at the Lima Mall before school to deck themselves out in apparell fit for the blandest of Christ Crusaders. It had killed Kurt to swap out his Alexander McQueen military jacket for a pea green sweater set and a pair of tartan golf shorts, but they had a mission to complete. Jesse had been strangely enthusiastic about it all, thinking of it as a wonderful acting exercise.

"Look happy," he said to the other two as they walked into the high school.

Forced smiles replaced Quinn and Kurt's nervous expressions.

"What's the plan, again?" asked Kurt, nervously eyeing the students around him. Not a single one had been unaffected at this point.

"We split up, find Penny, get her alone and force her to reverse her hex," said Quinn.

"And how exactly do we force her to do that?' asked Kurt.

"While normally I don't condone using witchcraft for elemental violence, we may need it today," said Jesse, sharing a look with Quinn.

"I'll go to the cafeteria," said Quinn, "You two check out the classrooms."

Quinn veered off past the slushie machines and into the cafeteria, which seemed to work like a beehive of conservative teens, making glittery posters while working in a healthy lunch. Quinn couldn't even smell the overwhelming greasy scent of tater tots being fried. It was like a whole new environment.

"Quinn!" Tina called with a smile, "You decided to join us again."

Quinn forced a wide, cheesy smile as Tina walked towards her in a gray skirt. "Yeah, well, you know, I needed a change in my sinful life."

Tina nodded. "That's great. It's like a new you."

"Yeah. I was just so sick of the old me. All of the... sins and the sinfulness."

"I completely agree. This is a big improvement on the old you. You used to be such a crazy slut."

Quinn's eye twitched a little. "Anyways... You wouldn't happen to know where Penny is, huh?"

xxx

"There she is!"

Kurt and Jesse had rounded a corner into one of the school's empty main halls, only to see Penny behind the glass walls of Principal Figgins' office. She was alone, putting colored pins in a map of Ohio that was strung on the wall.

"She's trying to take over the state," Jesse frowned, "She's like Hitler."

"If Hitler was a teenage girl and wanted to take over obscure towns in Ohio," Kurt added.

"Put your earphones in!" ordered Jesse, and the boys turned on their iPods.

Jesse took the lead and they both swiftly walked into Figgins' office, Kurt locking the door behind him with the metal switch. Penny turned from her map of Ohio and gave the boys a suspicious look.

"Can I... help you?" she asked, one hand on her hip, although they couldn't hear her with music blasting in their ears.

Jesse raised his hand to the air and lightning erupted from it, temporarily illuminating the room.

"Jesus, Jesse!" Kurt cried with surprise, shielding his eyes from the blinding light as Penny screamed out.

The light died down and a sizzling ball of electricity was a globe around Jesse's hand. He pointed his bright, static hand at Penny, music still blasting through his earphones.

"Change them back to how they were!" Jesse shouted.

"Listen, just stay calm," said Penny, breathing heavy and raising her hands in surrender, "What's your name?"

"None of your voodoo is gonna work on me, freak!" Jesse shouted with a smug smile, "We can't hear a word you're saying!"

Kurt grimaced and shouted, "Jesse, you never mentioned your lightning hand was in the plan!"

"Turn them back!" shouted Jesse.

"This isn't my fault!" Penny cried, "I mean, it _is_, but they deserved it, okay? They're better off for it. I used to be teased... constantly, because I was still a virgin and I never tasted alcohol and I went to church every Sunday... I got teased because I was a _good person_. It's not fair, okay?" Penny started to cry.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "What is she saying?!" Kurt yelled.

"UNDO IT!" Jesse shouted, electric currents still crackling around his hand.

"I can't!" Penny cried, "Even if I wanted too... I don't know how."

"JESSE!" Kurt yelled, and elbowed Jesse in the side.

Jesse turned and looked out of the glass walls to see a bug-eyed blond standing in the hall, staring at them and looking terrified in her cashmere sweater. Jesse quickly ripped out his earphones.

"Who is that?"

Kurt quickly unlocked the door as the blond ran away, towards the cafeteria.

"Piper! Wait!" he shouted.

Jesse nervously eyed Penny. "Okay. Come on."

Penny shrieked with fright as Jesse threw his arm around her and held his electric hand dangerously close to her head. He dragged her out of the office and followed Kurt and Piper down the hall, only to be confronted with the entire crowd of McKinley High, rushing down the hall to Piper's cries. Jesse and Kurt shrieked to a stop in their shiny loafers.

"Um... Jesse... What's the plan now?"

"I, um..." Jesse furrowed his brow and pulled Penny closer, "Hey! God Squad! Make another move and I electrocute your leaders head off!"

Jesse noticed Quinn in the middle of the crowd, trying to blend in. If he wasn't mistaken he thought she looked slightly proud.

"Let go of her!" cried Tina.

"No! Don't move! This is insane!" Jesse yelled at the quiet, wide-eyed crowd, his face getting red, "This has to end! You look ridiculous!"

"Jesse..." Kurt started.

"No! This isn't okay! She's got you thinking that this is how you're supposed to act! Well, it's not. We are young. We are supposed to screw up and get in trouble! We are _designed _to party! If now isn't the time to act like idiots then when?! We owe it to ourselves to be complete degenerates. We try so hard to be so perfect, but in the end, we're all just screw-ups. I plan to remain a screw-up until my late twenties - hell, even my early thirties - and I will die before I let anyone take that away from me! I mean, if you could see yourselves... You're wearing _cardigans_!"

"Jesse," said Kurt.

"What?!"

Kurt nodded behind them, and Jesse turned his head to see two men in very official looking black suits striding forward with black sunglasses on their austere faces.

"FBI," said one of the guys, quickly raising his badge at Jesse, "Release the girl."

Jesse's jaw dropped and he quickly let go of Penny, the electricity dying away from his hand. "Seriously? Somebody called the FBI?"

The agent took hold of Penny's arms and clasped handcuffs around her wrists.

"Wait. You're taking her? Khaki Hitler?" Kurt raised a thin eyebrow.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" Jesse frowned.

"We're taking care of this situation," said the agent, and turned back around holding Penny's arms.

"Wait!" said Jesse, "What about... the others?"

The agents glanced at each other. "Right. The hex." The second agent removed a strange metal ball from the inside of his coat pocket and set it down on the linoleum tiles. Before anyone could ask what it was, the ball exploded into dust, and as the dust cleared away, the agents were gone with Penny, and everyone was coughing and looking confused. Kurt searched for Buffy's face in the confusion.

She wrinkled her brow and stared down the hall. "I'm starting to think those guys aren't really FBI agents."


	52. The Origin Story: Elizabeth Hummel

**a/n: This chapter deals mainly with Kurt and Elizabeth Hummel, so I'm going to give an apology and a please-don't-hurt-me to the Faberry and Bantana shippers. This chapter will take a break from the rest of the scoobies. Hopefully you'll like it anyways and maybe some of your questions regarding Kurt's mother will be answered. Please review! Thank you so much for reading!**

"Kurt?" Burt raised his head as he heard a creak coming from the staircase.

Kurt bristled and turned the corner into the kitchen to see his dad resting his plaid-covered elbows on the kitchen table, oiling a lead something-or-other.

"I didn't know you spent the night."

"I came in kinda late..." Kurt trailed off, running his hand over his quaffed hair.

"Dalton called me a couple of times. Said you been skippin' classes."

"Yeah, well..." Kurt trailed off again, his eyes rimmed red.

"I don't want to get mad, Kurt, I'm just worried. You don't look like you been gettin' much sleep."

Kurt sighed heavily. "No. I haven't."

"I think we should talk."

"About my mother?"

"If you want to."

Kurt stared at the floor and clutched his temple. "I didn't even know her. Not just the slayer stuff but... we never talk about her. Not anything about her."

Burt set down his metal contraption and gestured for Kurt to sit. "So let me tell you."

Kurt let his satchel slump to the floor and took a seat opposite his father at the kitchen table.

"...Do you have any questions?" Burt asked awkwardly.

Kurt bit his bottom lip. "When did you find out? That she was a slayer?"

"In high school."

"Is that how you met? In high school?"

Burt smirked. "The story of how I met your mother and how I found out that she was what she was is a long and very interesting story. I've always had a hard time not telling it. I think the first thing you should know is that back in 1988, I had hair."

**1988**

"Toss him! Toss him! Toss him!" the small crowd chanted ceremoniously.

Burt didn't cheer with the rest of them but he watched without opposition as Paul Karofsky and Brad Richmond swung some reedy, bespectacled kid back and forth, clutching his skinny feet and shoulders. They guffawed as they threatened to toss the kid into one of the stinking dumpsters behind the high school. All of the football players had crowded around to watch and laugh, as well as their cheerleader girlfriends and some of the nastier rich kids.

"Dude, I think he's gonna wet himself!" someone shouted with glee.

Burt stomach churned just a little bit at the sight of the trembling kid being swung around, wrinkling his bird-like nose, looking nauseated. Burt shoved his hands in his soft letterman jacket and shoved aside the guilty conscience. He knew he had the social pull to get them to stop, but how long could he stick up for loser kids before his teammates decided he was a loser, too?

"Leave him alone!"

Burt felt both surprise and relief at the sound of a girl's angry voice. He turned around with the rest of the crowd to see where the voice came from. It was her. That one girl at the back of History class whose name he could never remember. He remembered her dark blond hair and the charcoal gray boots she wore everyday, but not her name. She always kept to herself. Scowled a lot. Burt knew that the other girls didn't like her, but maybe that was because they didn't get her. Maybe they thought she was snobby because she never talked to anybody.

She stormed through the crowd, her thick honey-colored hair bouncing behind her and her pink fists clenched. She wore an oversized gray sweatshirt that sagged down to her knees with a crisp white Peter Pan collar sticking out of the top. Burt couldn't help but think that she looked pretty when she was angry.

"Put him down," she ordered loudly, standing defiantly in front of Paul and Brad and folding her arms.

"Or what?" Paul smirked, looking her up and down with his beady blue eyes.

"What, is he your boyfriend?" Brad teased, looking like a fire hydrant with his bright tufts of red hair sticking out of his head with reckless abandon.

"Not possible," laughed some sandy-haired prep from the crowd, "Berry's a fag!"

"Shut up, Russell!" the girl yelled furiously, glaring daggers at the prep and silencing the murmuring crowd.

"Listen, you oughta beat it, sweetheart," Paul shook his head, "One way or another, this nancy's gettin' tossed."

"Paul Karofsky," the girl said gravely, her gray eyes unbelievably piercing, "Put him down or I will make you."

Fear flickered in Paul's eyes before he simply shook his head and laughed.

"Guys," Burt spoke up, walking forward to his teammates, "Come on. Put him down."

"Dude," Brad wrinkled his brow, "Are you serious?"

"What's the big deal?" Burt shrugged, "There are plenty other nerds to pick on. Let her have this one."

Paul gave Burt a quizzical expression before sighing, "Alright." The boys set down the gawky teenager who had turned a pale shade of green. The girl put her hand tentatively on the boys' shoulder before glaring back at Paul and Brad with her steely eyes.

"Leave Hiram alone from now on. Or else."

"Ooh, I'm so scared," laughed Brad.

"You should be," the girl said gravely and walked away with her arm around the skinny boy.

The crowd began to disperse, unhappy with the lack of action. Burt stared after the girl as Paul sidled up to him.

"What's your deal today, man?" he asked, looking somewhat concerned.

"Who was that girl?" asked Burt.

Paul smirked. "You like her, don't you? That explains it. You like the weird ones."

"Do you know her name or not?"

"Uh... I don't know. I know she hangs out with that hippy chick, Melinda or something," Paul shrugged, his eyes searching through the cheerleaders who were sauntering back to the football field to begin practise, "Hey! Judy!"

A skinny girl with brilliantly blond hair turned around, her makeup flawless and her dark blue eyes alarmingly wide. "What?" she asked innocently, looking between Paul and Burt.

"Do you know who that weird chick was?" he asked her.

Judy rolled her eyes. "Lizzy Martin. I have fourth period Home Ec with her. She's totally weird. She always hangs out in the library and she started wearing that stupid silver cross necklace when everyone knows that cross necklaces are my thing. She can't even pull them off and I bet hers isn't even real silver-"

"Great. Thanks, Jude," Paul winked and waved her away, turning back to Burt, "There's your answer."

xxx

The pile of books in Elizabeth's hands were heavy and thick with dust but she was sure she would need them. She worriedly looked down at the occult symbols adorning the spine of the dusty old manuscripts. Melissa and Mrs. S's knowledge could only get her so far.

She rounded the corner and suddenly collided with a burly boy clad in a red and white McKinley letterman jacket. Her books clattered to the floor and loose, time-colored pages floated out. Elizabeth sighed irritably and bent down to gather her things. The boy squatted in his denim jeans and started to help her with his heavy hands.

"Lizzy, right?" he asked as he collected her books.

"Elizabeth," she corrected him without looking up.

"Oh, right. Sorry. I'm-"

"Burt Hummel. The quarterback. I know," she said with a little disdain.

"Oh... Well, listen, I'll get my team to back off of your friend, Hiram, if you want. They won't mess with him if I tell 'em not to."

"How valiant of you," she said bitterly.

"So, what are you doing tonight?"

Elizabeth looked up, bewildered. "Why?"

"Well, there's a place called Breadstix-"

"Yeah, I know," she replied, staring blankly, her impatience festering.

"Would you like to go? To Breadstix? Tonight, for dinner?" he awkwardly proposed, "...With me?"

Elizabeth gaped at him. Was Burt Hummel sincerely asking her out on a date? Impossible. He was the quarterback of the football team. He was broad-shouldered and stoic and looked like Billy Joel, with his dark hair and handsome, round face. He hung out with all of the people she hated. Judy Smith would have sold her soul for a date with Burt Hummel. Of course, Elizabeth was suspicious. The only way this scenario could end was with her covered in pigs' blood.

"Your eyes are blue," he said when she took too long to answer, staring at her eyes with a quiet intensity.

"Wh... What?"

"Your eyes. I swore they were gray before."

"Oh," she said, starting to blush, "I- They changed. I mean, they _look _like they change. Depending on what I'm wearing. Or... the lighting, I guess."

"Like a chameleon," said Burt.

"Uh, yeah. Kind of. They have a name for it, but I- I can't remember."

"They're beautiful. So... do you want to go out tonight?"

Elizabeth blinked and snapped out of the brief hold Burt had on her. "Um. No."

"No?"

"What, you never heard the word before?" she asked, glibly, standing up with her books messily piled in her arms.

Burt's brow furrowed. "No as in never, or 'no' as in you're busy tonight?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth, unsure of what to say. Part of her thought this whole date thing was just a joke, but part of her both feared and hoped that Burt was sincerely putting himself out there.

"I'm... I'm busy tonight."

She could've sworn Burt looked hopeful. Why Burt Hummel ever noticed a girl like her was a mystery, but she was flattered all the same. Burt watched as she hurried away with her pile of library books. He realized once she was out of sight that he should have helped her carry them. He really wished he had at least offered.

xxx

Elizabeth took the darkest seat in an alcove in the corner of the colorful restaurant and placed a menu in front of her face, peering out every so often to watch for suspicious behavior. This was apart of her duty. Haunting the local hot spots - which there weren't very much of - in order to keep people safe. Of course, she didn't do a lot of hanging out in the town's most popular hangouts. She was like a silent savior. She was like... Batman.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth peered over her menu to see Melissa standing over her booth, smiling down at her with her wide, full lips. Elizabeth couldn't help but smirk back at her best friend. Her only friend. Melissa Cohen was a pretty girl with tumbling brown hair and freckles sprinkled over her delicate face. The only reason she was as unpopular as Elizabeth herself is that Melissa wore clothes that were at least a decade out of fashion. Well, and because of Melissa's very specific kind of interests.

"Are you patrolling tonight?" she asked, smiling widely.

"Melissa, quiet. People might hear you. And it's Elizabeth."

Melissa took a seat, looking like a flower child in her flowing eyelet lace maxi dress and sleeveless, denim vest. "Ooh. Like Elizabeth Collins from Dark Shadows. Or like from Frankenstein. Oh! Or like the Edgar Allan Poe poem. _Elizabeth, it surely most fit-_"

"No, Mel. Elizabeth, like, Elizabeth Martin. Like, Elizabeth the vampire slayer."

Melissa's brown eyes brightened. "That sounds so cool. _Elizabeth the Vampire Slayer. _Very 19th century."

"Thanks," Elizabeth said indifferently, her eyes shifting to the other side of the restaurant.

"Watcha lookin' at?" wondered Melissa, turning around to see Burt Hummel entering through the doors with a few football guys and the head cheerleader, Judy Smith.

"Nothing," Elizabeth frowned, quickly looking away.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth sighed with defeat, "Do you know Burt Hummel?"

"Of course I know Burt Hummel. Every girl in school is obsessed with Burt Hummel."

"I think he asked me out today."

"What do you mean you _think _he asked you out?"

"Well, he asked me to dinner. Tonight. Here."

"Burt Hummel _asked you out_?"

"I know. It must have been a joke or something. They're trying to play a prank on me because I got mad when I caught them bullying Hiram."

Melissa turned back around and looked at Burt taking a seat at one of the bigger booths with his friends. "I don't know. He's got a very blue aura. I think he means well."

"He's a pig-headed jock. Just look at the people he hangs out with."

"He's still just a kid."

"He's the same age as we are."

"Physically," Melissa shrugged, "I take it you said no."

"Obviously. That's why he's slumming it with those beef-heads and that... witch."

**Present Day**

"Son, I wanna make it clear that your mother actually did say the word witch."

"Right," Kurt nodded.

"No, really. Judy Smith was... an actual witch."

"Yeah, Dad, I know."

"You do?"

"Yeah. So's her daughter. Does this come into the story?"

"Well, no... Anyways..."

**1988 Again**

"They deserve each other," Elizabeth sneered.

"Gosh. He must have really bothered you, huh?"

Elizabeth frowned and squirmed uncomfortably. "He said my eyes were beautiful."

"That chauvinistic bastard."

"Oh my God, he's coming over."

Elizabeth looked up with pure terror on her face as Burt Hummel neared the girls' booth.

"Hello," Melissa smiled widely, practically making heart eyes at him.

"Uh, hey, I just wanted to say, hey."

"Great. Bye," said Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, don't be so shy!" Melissa smiled devilishly, "She's just embarrassed. She's sorry she wasn't available tonight, but we already made plans together and, you know, girls gotta have their girltime."

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

"That's okay," Burt shrugged.

"But she's totally available tomorrow night."

"No I'm not," frowned Elizabeth, "I have to go."

"Lizzy, don't be like that," Melissa teased.

"Elizabeth!" she snapped, "And I have to _go_."

Elizabeth stormed from her seat and weaved through the rows of booth seats to the back entrance. Melissa looked up at Burt's perplexed and concerned expression and smiled apologetically.

"She's... not feeling well," she said weakly and rose from her seat to follow her friend.

Melissa found herself in the dark and damp back alley of Breadstix where she quickly spotted her lithe blond friend in her oversized clothes.

"Lizzy-"

"Eliz-"

"Elizabeth, okay, I get it! What is up with you?!"

"Nothing, I just... I don't want to go out with Burt. I don't even want him to notice me. I just... I like being alone."

"Well, too late. You don't have to go out with me but he _likes _you so you could try being-"

"What? Nice? I'm _not _nice and I don't owe him anything."

"I get it. You're the mean, badass, stoic Elizabeth the vampire slayer. Doesn't mean you have to avoid people like the the plague."

"I don't avoid people! I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"Me and Mrs. S can't exactly give you a thriving social life. What are you so afraid of?"

Elizabeth scowled. "I'm not afraid, I... I really did have to go."

"For what?"

A blood curdling scream rang out in the night air.

"For that."

The girls raced around the corner of Breadstix to see a girl being backed into a corner by a vamp, his yellowing fangs bared and his eyes a piercing red. Elizabeth didn't beat around the bush. She kicked at the vamp's ankles, knocking him down, his head slamming heavily against the concrete ground. As the victim ran away, Elizabeth had the vamp pinned underneath her, wincing away from her cross necklace before she drove her wooden stake through his heart. He burst into dust, not leaving even his clothes as evidence of his existence.

"Good work," Melissa smiled crookedly, "Elizabeth the vampire slayer."

"The _what_?"

Elizabeth and Melissa whipped their heads around to see Burt hovering around the corner.

"Oh no," Elizabeth cringed.

Melissa frowned. "Burt. You didn't happen to see-"

"You stab a guy until he explodes into dust?!" he asked, staring wide-eyed with awe at Elizabeth, "Yeah. I might've seen that."

**Present Day**

"Then what happened?" asked Kurt, leaning forward with intense interest.

"Wish I could tell you, buddy. I think I blacked it out. Next thing I knew, I was in the back of your mom's prized Impala and she was taking me to see her watcher."

"Her watcher? Who was her watcher?"

"Debra Schuester."

"Mr. Schuester's mom?"

"The one and only. That lady was pretty tough."

"What did she say?"

Burt grunted and tugged the top of his baseball cap. "You're gonna be late for school, bud."

"Dad, _come on_. You can't start telling me about my mother and then stop."

"I'll tell you about your mother until the cows come home, but there are parts of your mother's life that I'm not equipped to tell."

"Like what?"

"Like when she fell in love with me. That came out of nowhere."

"Who else is there that possibly knows as much as her as you do?"

Burt pursed his lips in thought. "Pretty sure Melissa still lives in Lima. We never really stayed in touch after your mother..." he trailed off.

"Melissa Cohen?"

"Yeah. She has a daughter in your school. Christina."

Kurt furrowed his brow in thought. "Christina...?"

"Yeah. Christina Cohen-Chang."

"Tina?"

xxx

Kurt parked outside the Cohen-Chang residence. It was easy to spot, with Mr. Chang's Volkswagon bus parked outside with a giant purple peace sign painted on the side. He knew the dean at Dalton would complain mercilessly about the missed days of school and skipped classes that had built up in his record over the past few weeks, but Kurt couldn't have cared less. One piece of information about his mother was like bait and now he needed all of it. He wanted to know everything about her. Not just about being slayer, but about _her_.

He rapped on the door and listened to the sound of the wind chimes tinkling on the porch before Mrs. Cohen answered the door. Kurt had seen her before, at Parent Teacher meeting and assemblies at McKinley, but she'd never been so significant as she was now. If he wasn't mistaken, he thought he'd seen her eyes light up when she answered the door. She didn't look very much like her daughter, except for similarities here and there, like the dimples when they smiled and the full bottom lip. _This was my mother's best friend_, Kurt thought.

"Can I help you?" asked Mrs. Cohen, smiling warmly, with flecks of orange paint set into the blue velvet dress she was wearing, a band of gray lace tied around her forehead and just barely taming her unbrushed brown hair.

"Um, yes..." Kurt said, staring at her and wondering how to proceed, "You're Melissa Cohen?"

Melissa nodded. "Come in," she said without any further conversation and stepped back to let him through.

Kurt walked in, rubbing his hands against his legs and taking in the bowls of moonstones and abstract artwork that adorned the walls and shelves of the hallway.

"I was just painting," she said, leading Kurt through the messy living room and to an even messier room that was crowded with a sewing machine, a pottery table and a large easel that held a canvas of orange and black and baby pink splatters.

"What do you think?" she asked, gesturing to the painting.

"Um... nice."

"Be honest. Too cynical? Too garish? Too idyllic?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "It's very... orange."

Melissa widened her eyebrows at Kurt and then at the painting. "Very _orange_. Yes. God, it is very orange. _Too _orange. I want to let people feel, not force them to."

"Orange and pink don't really work together."

"No. The innocence and the sensuality of life. It's a jarring perversion. The one thing that's actually impressive about this piece. Thank you, Kurt, you have a very good eye."

He noticed that she knew his name even though he hadn't told her, but he didn't mention it.

"You knew my mother."

Melissa turned from her painting and smiled warmly at Kurt. "Elizabeth," she nodded sadly, "You must have so many questions."

"Yeah. And I know the truth. About what she was."

"Do you?" smiled Melissa, "I doubt even she knew."

"She was a slayer."

"Yes. Yes, she was."

"I know you were her best friend."

"Which is why you're here. Come on, I'll make you tea."

Melissa quickly led him away into the kitchen and began to make tea in an old-fashioned tea leaf strainer. He noticed Tina's flawless report cards held to the fridge with magnets that had inspirational quotes on them. He noticed picture frames standing up on the windowsill above the sink. The Cohen-Changs together at picnics and festivals. One of Buffy, Tina and Rachel together at last year's Regionals. One of Melissa and a young blond woman. His mother. He was suddenly a little jealous of the fact that this woman knew his mother better than he did.

"Cane sugar?"

"Um, yes, please."

"I never did convert Elizabeth to tea. She was a coffee girl."

Kurt smiled. No, he wasn't jealous. He was pleased to find someone who could give him those insignificant details about his mother. His dad was surely romantic enough to notice these things about her but he wasn't the kind of guy to articulate those tidbits. Kurt was happy with the thought of his mother sitting at The Lima Bean.

"I'm kind of a coffee guy," Kurt shrugged.

"Doesn't surprise me," Melissa smirked as she stirred small rocks of sugar into the hot tea, "Elizabeth had a very healthy pregnancy but the one thing she always indulged in was a cup of coffee. You probably have caffeine for blood."

Kurt chuckled. "That wouldn't surprise me, either," he said, and then frowned sadly, "Why didn't you visit? After she died?"

Melissa handed him a teacup with a thoughtful expression and took a seat at the kitchen table, which Kurt noticed had mismatched chairs surrounding it and things carved into the surface, like spirals and rune symbols and 'Tina was here '03'.

"When we heard about your mother's death, I came over just a few times, for you and your father. After awhile, I realized my presence wasn't needed. Nor was it necessarily wanted. Me being around only reminded Burt of Elizabeth. She had left a year before her death and now she was really, truly gone. I thought staying out of your life would let the both of you move on with it."

Kurt bit the inside of his cheek. "I wish you hadn't."

Melissa smiled sympathetically and squeezed Kurt's pale hand. "Oh, Kurt. I wish I hadn't had to. I was so excited when Elizabeth had you. You came only a few months after Tina. I had all these ideas that you'd call me Auntie Melissa and you and Tina would be like cousins."

Kurt stared at the kitchen table, hoping tears wouldn't come to his eyes. That kind of childhood - one with a mother figure and a real friend - sounded so much nicer than the one he'd had. The one with only his father, who was loving, but broken. Would this house have been more familiar to him? Would he be allowed to have carved his name into the kitchen table and give Melissa daily critiques on her artwork? Maybe he and Tina would have been best friends. Maybe he would've done her hair and she would have taught him all about vampires. Maybe Kurt wouldn't have had to transfer schools and Tina wouldn't have had to fake a stutter for sixteen years.

"Things are never so simple, though," frowned Melissa.

Kurt nodded, his thoughts dissolving. "No. They never are."

"You should know that even though I wasn't in your life, I never stopped thinking of myself as your family. If I say so myself, I'm very good at keep watch from afar. And I'm sorry to hear you had to transfer to Dalton academy."

Kurt blinked at her, surprised. "...Well, thank you."

"I just wish I could help. It's difficult to do when you're not apart of someone's life."

"Well, you can be apart of my life now. It's not too late."

Melissa smiled. "No, it's not too late."

"Does Tina know? About me and my mother?"

"No. I never spoke a word of your mother to anyone except my husband. But Tina's a very, very smart girl. It wouldn't come as a shock to her. Not now that she's such good friends with the new slayer."

Kurt's mouth hung open. "You know...?"

"Like I said, I'm very good at keeping watch from afar. Buffy has visited once or twice. She so reminds me of Elizabeth and at the same time is completely different."

"Please tell me what she was like."

"Where to start? Elizabeth was a loner. It took her months to warm up to me. Thank God I kept trying. She was very committed to her duty as a slayer. I think it gave her purpose. And took up most of her time. She never did like going home. She wasn't very close with her father. Your grandfather."

Kurt nodded. This he knew. He always received Christmas presents and occasional visits from his dad's parents but never his mother's. Burt would always grumble under his breath that Mr. Martin was married to his bank account.

"Mr. Martin was more enigma than father. He was someone I'd always heard about but never really seen. Like some presence. Elizabeth never had curfews or boundaries. For someone who liked order as much as she did, she didn't seem to have much of it. I think that's why she liked slaying so much in the beginning. There was a code and a mission."

"Until she fell in love with my dad?"

"Even when she fell in love with your dad, slaying was a big part of her life. I think her priorities really changed when you came into the picture. She didn't want to be a slayer anymore. All she wanted to do was be your mother. She knew this would be a difficult process. It's not something that's easy to just quit. There are prophecies in place. The Watcher's Council was up in arms. In the end, Debra fought for her."

"Debra Schuester."

"Yes. Your mother's watcher. She was like a mother to Elizabeth. Especially in the end. She was by her through absolutely everything. Her marriage. Her pregnancy. Her death. She even helped name you."

Kurt raised a thin eyebrow. "She did?"

Melissa nodded, a smile growing on her face. "We all did. God, you were so loved. You _are _so loved. Were you ever told what your name means?"

Kurt shook his head. "I think... I think Kurt is German. And my middle name's an homage to my mother as well as a plot to make high school even harder for a gay teen."

Melissa laughed. "Well, Elizabeth wanted to name you Burt, Jr. if you were a boy and Burt wanted to name you Elizabeth, Jr. if you were a girl. It was all very loving and sweet but the rest of us wanted them to be a bit more creative. Have you ever taken a look at your birth certificate?"

"No."

"Well, if you do, you'll find it doesn't say Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

"It doesn't?"

"No. As it turns out, Kurt is a portmanteau for Kid Burt."

"You're kidding," Kurt smiled.

"No," Melissa laughed, shaking her head.

"My name is Kid Burt."

Melissa nodded, starting to laugh harder. "No-one wanted to mix you up with your father but your mother was so set on naming you after him. We had to compromise."

"That's embarrassing," Kurt grinned.

"Yes, well, at least it's not as big a mouthful as your middle names."

"My middle names? As in, plural?"

"Yeah. See, we never could settle on a middle named. We decided it should be Elizabeth, but Burt didn't want you to have a girl's name. So, Elizabeth is another portmanteau."

Kurt grimaced. "For what?"

"Elliott Zachary Bernard Theodore. In the end, your dad just stuck with Elizabeth."

"I wonder why that was. It's not like Kid Burt Elliott Zachary Bernard Theodore Hummel is difficult to say when you're angry."

Melissa smiled and sipped her tea. "Your mother liked the name Elliott ever since she saw the movie E.T. I added Zachary because, well, Saved By The Bell was pretty popular when I was a kid. Your father added Bernard after your grandfather. And Debra added Theodore."

"After the president or the chipmunk?"

"After Theodorus the Atheist. The philosopher. Debra was a very wise woman."

"Was?"

"Well, is. But no-one's really kept in touch with her. She prefers solitude these days."

"I need to talk to her."

"Kurt, I don't think that's a good idea."

"You don't understand. I need to know everything about her and if you say Mrs. Schuester was like her mother then how can I not talk to her? She knew my mom in a way no-one else did. And you say she was with her when she died?"

Melissa nodded.

"Then she needs to tell me about it. I'm not going to able to rest until I find out everything I can. I've been biting my tongue and holding back questions about my mother for seventeen years. I can't do it anymore."

"I understand," Melissa said sympathetically, "But Debra lives in Cleveland now. You shouldn't go alone."

Kurt frowned. "Will you go with me?"

"I don't think Debra will want to see me. Or your father."

"Then who?"

They heard the front door open and close and the click of boots came towards them from the hall. Tina stepped into the kitchen with her black backpack still strapped to her shoulders. She looked confused as her eyes landed on Kurt.

"What are you doing here?" she asked innocently, looking at her mother and at their cups of tea.

Melissa sighed and smiled as she leaned forward. "Christina, we need to talk."

Tina frowned. "Am I in trouble? You only call me Christina when I'm in trouble or when you think I'm going to be upset."

"Not upset," smiled Melissa, "Surprised."

Tina's eyes landed on Kurt's again. "Is this about your mom being a slayer?"


	53. The Kissing Booth

"So, do you remember what it was like?"

"Being brainwashed?"

"Yeah. Was it like being possessed?"

"What do you know about being possessed?"

"I've read that it's like being stuck inside your body, watching while someone else controls it."

Buffy smirked. Blaine had a lot of questions about the Hellmouth and now he had started to ask about their most recent predicament; the Christ Crusaders.

"I don't think I've ever been possessed..." Buffy mused, leaning back in her chair and wrapping her hand around a warm coffee cup, "I mean, there was Halloween, but that was different, right?"

"Right. Yeah. It was like we became different people."

"You were the Phantom, right?"

"Uh huh," Blaine nodded, "I just spent the whole night in Santana's basement."

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, well... It was kind of like that. Like you were you, but someone else."

Blaine's eyebrow quirked up. "Is there some more articulate way to phrase that? For my journals?"

"Blaine," Buffy sighed, "I'm not so good for the interviews, okay? I mean, you're better off talking to Rachel or Tina about the details. If you asked me to describe the Hellmouth I'd probably tell you that it was Hellmouth-y."

"Yeah, I guess," Blaine chuckled, "So, I guess it's cool that we're doing this."

"Yeah. I hardly ever have time to get coffee with friends."

Blaine smirked slightly at his latte. "I've got to be honest. I didn't really think we were friends."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Well, normally when I make friends, it's not by stalking them in graveyards until they attack me."

"Really? How else do people make friends?"

"I'm not saying I'm not glad that you consider me your friend, I'm just... well, I was surprised when you called me. I didn't think I'd be your first choice."

Buffy bit her lip and looked guiltily and the surface of their table at The Lima Bean. "Well, actually, I wanted us to go to coffee today because I have to talk you about something I don't think I could talk about with anyone else."

Blaine looked both confused and interested. "Is it Kurt?"

"No, it doesn't have anything to do with Kurt. It's me. Something happened when I was brainwashed."

"Something you remember?"

"Yeah..." Buffy trailed off, staring into her coffee for a few long moments.

Blaine looked imploringly at Buffy. Her expression was unreadable and she looked like she was heavy with thoughts. He didn't want to disturb her from her sudden introspection so he silently watched her hands tap against the tabletop.

"You have to promise this stays between us," she finally said.

Blaine's brown eyes widened. A secret? Between him and the slayer?

"I... Yeah, of course. What is it?"

Buffy sighed and folded her denim-clad legs, looking serious.

"When I was brainwashed Santana came to visit me at my house."

Blaine brow furrowed at the mention of Buffy's soulful vampire friend. Since Blaine had met her he'd had a million questions about the undead girl and her acquired soul, but he'd known enough to gather that Santana was off the table.

"Okay," Blaine replied.

"She, um... she told me that she loved me."

Blaine's eyes widened even more. He looked back down at the grass. "Wow..."

"Yeah. And she said it in... in a really _lovely _way. Way better than I would have because I'm not so good with the words. But it was like she really did love _me_. Like, different from the way Sam loves me."

Blaine squirmed a little. Girl talk was not something he'd ever gotten used to, going to an all boys boarding school.

"Are you sure she didn't mean it in a friend way?" he asked.

Buffy pursed her lips. "I thought, maybe, but then I realized. Even if she hadn't said the words I love you, I still would have known. No-one gets to see that side of Santana. No-one. Hell, the only reason she said it was because she knew I was brainwashed. She probably didn't count on me remembering."

"Buffy... I'm not sure I'm the person you should be talking about this to. I have an older brother and a bunch of guy friends and even though I'm not the manliest of men, I don't exactly know how to talk like one of the girls. What about your friends at McKinley?"

"Well, I can't talk to Tina or Kurt because they left on that road trip to Cleveland, which, by the way, don't ask me about because I don't know. And I can't talk to Rachel because she hates Santana. It's bad enough that Santana is my friend but if she thought of Santana and I _together _she'd flip. Obviously I can't talk to Sam. Come on, it's not that hard. Your guy friends must talk about girls. Occasionally?"

"Not to me. I'm not really an expert in that department. In any capacity whatsoever."

"You can make a Powerpoint presentation telling me why I should let you come patrolling with me but you can't find a single reply to my news? Dude, Santana _loves_ me. I don't know what to do!"

"Well, do you... How do you feel about Santana?"

Buffy bit her lip. "I don't know... Confused? That counts as a feeling, right?"

"Sure."

"Excited, kind of. I mean, Santana has always... excited me. She's cool and confident and mysterious and one with darkness and she's _Santana_. And she loves me. God, I cannot get over that."

"Are you attracted to her?"

"I... God, Blaine, _I don't know_!"

"Sorry!" Blaine raised his hands, "I just think it's an important factor in the decision you're going to have to make."

"What decision?!" Buffy asked, panicky.

"Well, aren't you going to have to eventually decide between Santana and Sam?"

Buffy frowned sadly. "Do I haf-tuh?"

"Buffy..."

Buffy sighed and slumped in her seat. "I know... It's just really confusing. I mean, I like boys, I really do. I mean, Daniel Craig? Can I get a 'dee-licious'?"

"I'm more of a Pierce Brosnan kind of guy."

"Of course you are."

"Maybe with you and Santana it's a little bit more complicated than that. You like boys, sure, but maybe Santana is your exception. Maybe there's a part of you open to all kinds of love. Boy or girl. Dead or alive."

"No jokes right now, Brosnan!"

"Sorry. But you know what I mean. Maybe there's a part of you that feels the same way Santana does."

Buffy groaned. "And what about Sam?"

"Well, how do you feel about Sam?"

"I like him. I do! And he loves me and he's a good boyfriend and he's very cute..."

"But?"

"But... sometimes he feels a little bit more like a fan than an equal. Like, in his eyes I'm Buffy, the vampire slayer. But to Santana, I'm Buffy Summers. I'm a slayer and a friend and a daughter and a girl. She just really _sees _me."

"Clearly you have a choice to make."

"I just don't want to hurt anybody."

Blaine pursed his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Either way, someone's going to get hurt."

Buffy sighed. "You're right."

"Might I suggest-"

"Do not tell me to make a list of pros and cons."

"Nevermind then. So... What's up with those FBI guys, huh?"

Buffy closed her eyes. "Stop asking me hard questions."

xxx

Quinn crept upstairs. Since last week she'd barely been able to get over her crippling anxiety. She was practically a ghost in the school hallways and in her own home, slipping in and out of her room in silence. She was avoiding Rachel, which was difficult since they had so many classes together, not including glee club. She didn't know why she was trying so hard to escape Rachel's attention. As far as Rachel knew, things were just as they had always been.

And maybe they were. Maybe Quinn was just being weird and confusing herself. Maybe what she said to Santana... how she had admitted... She couldn't even think about it without blushing in embarrassment. _Rachel Berry? _It was almost unspeakable. And yet when Quinn lay awake at night feeling empty, her thoughts always lead back to way the hem of Rachel's skirt met the top of her argyle socks and the way her softly brushed strawberry-scented hair felt. In the recesses of her mind, Quinn always knew she had a thing - an... _attraction_ - for Rachel but the more rational part of her wanted to strangle that part.

It wasn't just the gayness of it all, because Quinn could get over that. She could get over stupid bullies like Karofsky and had no fear of being excommunicated from the church. Her mother's God wasn't her God anymore. Now she had the gods and goddesses that Jesse has shown her, like Hermes and Aphrodite and Hecate, and what is Greek mythology if not super gay? She wouldn't mind being a lesbian if that's what she knew she was. The problem was that she did not, in fact, know what she was. She was just confused. She'd never done anything with a girl before, but then again she'd never done much with boys.

The one time she had sex with Puck she had been drunk on Wine Coolers. She hadn't even enjoyed it. She hadn't even kissed him. When she kissed him in the bathroom stall last week she had only been trying to prove herself wrong. And partly to quell the warmth and the rush she had felt when Rachel had hugged her and she'd felt the small of her back and her hair against her cheek. A part of Quinn could come to terms with the fact that she liked Rachel but the rest of her was quite intolerant. She had to figure herself out first before she ever threw herself into something that was so foreign to her.

"Santana?" Quinn called quietly as she rapped her knuckles against Santana's bedroom door.

She had also been avoiding Santana for the past week, which proved to be much easier than she imagined. Their sleeping schedules were already exactly opposite, so when she was getting ready in the mornings, Santana was usually falling into a deep sleep. Quinn hoped that this morning, she wasn't sleeping too deeply yet.

"San?"

Quinn pushed the door open, Santana's bedroom curtains closed and blocking out every ray of sunlight. She spotted the human-or-otherwise-sized lump under the dark bedsheets and took a seat at the edge of the bed. Santana let out a soft snore.

"Santana," said Quinn, pushing the vampire's leg.

Santana stirred and turned over, her eyes still shut tight. "Five more minutes."

"I need to talk to you."

Santana groaned and pulled the bedcovers away from her face, blinking sleepily. "What do you want? What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"_Dude_. I just got to sleep. And shouldn't you be going to school to sing some ridiculous Fleetwood Mac cover rather than bothering me? This is supposed to be my sleep of the undead. Don't disturb it."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Can I just talk to you for a second? I've barely seen you all week."

"Yeah, well, whose fault is that?" Santana groaned and buried her head in her pillow.

"Fine. Yes, I've been avoiding you since last week. But you should know _why_. I was embarrassed."

"I would be embarrassed too if I were wearing an olive green sweater set I bought at a Sears back-to-school sale."

"Stop it. You of all people should know how I feel. I mean, I'm not saying what we're going through is the same, but it must be hard for you. Liking Buffy."

Santana bolted up in bed, looking younger than usual without her makeup or her skimpy nightwear. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders and her eyes were as wide as saucepans.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Last week... You came to me and you told me that you liked Buffy. I mean, I was brainwashed when you told me, but I still remember-"

"You remember? You remember being brainwashed? Quinn!" Santana shrieked.

Quinn placed her hands on her hips and twisted around on the bed to look at Santana. "What?" she asked, one of her eyebrows quirking up, "You told me. And I told you that... that I liked Rachel, but Santana you need to know that I'm confused and I don't necessarily-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Santana waved her away, hopping out of bed in her mint green pyjamas, "You like Berry. What's new? That's not important right now! If you remember being brainwashed then so does Buffy."

"So?"

"So..." Santana bit down hard on her lip, "I told her that I lo... I told her. How I feel."

"Oh..." Quinn knitted her brow and looked at the carpet, "What did she say?"

"Well, she was brainwashed, Quinn! She was all 'Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve'. I haven't seen her since then. Now I know why."

"Maybe this isn't a bad thing. She knows how you feel now. All you have to do is wait for her to reciprocate."

"And what if she never does?! She has a boyfriend! Why would she give up being happy to be with _me_?"

Quinn pursed her lips. "Boyfriend doesn't always equal happy."

"Yeah, well, girlfriend to an undead parasite equals happy how much?"

Quinn sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't invite her, then."

"Invite her to what?"

"Oh... That's actually what I had to come up here to talk to you about. When I went downstairs this morning, Sofia was baking."

"Sofia? In the kitchen? Unheard of," Santana said sarcastically.

Quinn frowned. "Baking a _cake_, Santana. A birthday cake."

Santana's eyes widened in fear once again. "Oh, God, no. Is it really that time of year again?"

"Afraid so. I tried to tell her you hate surprises but she's pretty set on throwing you a surprise party."

"With _who_? In case you guys haven't noticed, I haven't exactly been social lately."

"I tried to plead your case, I did, but... She's trying really hard to be a part of your life. She feels ignored. You two never really talked about her being your mother-"

"What am I supposed to say?! It's cool that you're my real mom but unfortunately I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a blood sucking demon of the night and I'd really rather skip this whole birthday thing."

"Could you just do this for her?"

"Ugh," Santana sulked, "I can't believe you're taking her side."

"I just want what's best for you," Quinn shrugged.

"Yeah, right. The only reason you want me to have a party is because you want a distraction from the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know. The other reason people get festive on February 14th."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "So I'd rather celebrate my little sister's-"

"-Big sister!"

"-_Little _sister's birthday, than buy into some stupid, made-up holiday that mixes pink and red, which are too colors that clash _horrendously_."

"Right. That's your problem with Valentine's Day. The color co-ordination. It has nothing to do with the fact that the honey you're really into is a cable-knit-tight-wearing, showtunes-listening-to, vegan-meatball-eating show choir enthusiast who is _not _invited to this party, by the way, unless you want to bring her as your date, that is."

"So I _should _invite people to this party?"

"Don't change the subject."

"You were the one changing the subject. Who should I invite? Angel, obviously. I was thinking I'd bring Jesse just to add to the numbers."

"Then the number will be a resounding five because I don't want anyone else there."

"Stop being like that. This party is happening. I was just trying to give you an early warning. Should I invite Buffy?"

"Do _not _invite Buffy!" 

"But maybe she likes you back, Santana. Maybe you don't have to be miserable all the time. Maybe putting yourself out there doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"Yeah, and maybe you should take your own advice."

Quinn blushed. "That's different."

"How?"

"Because I don't even _know_... I don't understand-"

"You're not supposed to understand. These things just happen. One minute you're falling asleep to the sound of Tyra Banks shrieking on your TV screen and the next thing you know, you're fantasizing about a blond cheerleader - and not the one you _normally _fantasize about. My point is, love has a tendency to slap you in the face when you're not looking and it latches on like a sticky motherfucker. Once you fall in love, it can be a bitch to fall back out."

xxx

Rachel saw it the second she turned the corner. That big, red and pink, glittery, garish kiosk made from scrap wood panels at the end of the hall. The big one that had 'Kissing Booth: 1 Kiss = $1' crudely written on it in marker like some sort of lemonade stand. The one that Finn was standing behind. You can't miss it.

She unloaded her books into her locker, pretending not to see it but she was silently fuming inside. She just knew he'd set up his stupid booth down the hall from her locker on purpose. He wanted her to see him smooching with every girl in school. She wasn't sure if he was trying to make her jealous or just trying to make her feel bad about herself, but part of her felt a little bit of both and part of her felt absolutely embarrassed for him.

"Can you believe that?!" Rachel snapped, enraged, as Buffy headed towards her, a Lima Bean coffee in her hand.

"Kissing booth?" Buffy wrinkled her nose, "Can you say mono?"

"He's just flaunting it in my face like I would have no control over my feelings but to go over there and buy a single kiss. Just how pathetic does he think I am?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Finn in the distance and shook her head, joining in with the indignation. "Look at him. Whoring himself out for singles. Mouth prostitute."

Rachel sighed heavily. "As if Valentine's Day wasn't going to be hard enough. He has to go out of his way to remind me that he's the most popular guy in school and I'm just the annoying Jewish girl."

"_Just _the annoying Jewish girl? You're not _just_ anything, Rachel. You're the smartest, most talented annoying Jewish girl I've ever-... Wait, no, that's not what I meant-"

"Thanks for trying Buffy but I wasn't looking for appraisal. I was more going for 'help me complain about my ex'."

"Right."

"I just can't believe I ever loved him. I mean, I can, because he's popular and handsome and even though he has faults - big faults - he's still a good person. I just can't believe I lost myself so much. I can't believe a boy like him kept me awake at night."

"Buffy?"

The girls turned around the see Quinn awkwardly standing nearby, one hand on her soft leather satchel.

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel smiled brightly.

"Oh, uh, hi, Rachel..." Quinn trailed off shyly, "Listen, Buffy, I don't know if you're interested, but we're throwing a surprise party for Santana's birthday, so, maybe you'd like to come."

Buffy's cheeks immediately went red. "Oh, um, I don't know... Maybe..."

"I mean, you don't have to," Quinn shrugged, "But I know she'd want you there."

Buffy nodded, looking somewhat pleased. "Yeah. I'll go. Of course I'll go."

"Great..." Quinn smiled, her eyes lingering on Rachel, "Um, if you want to come-"

"It's okay, Quinn," Rachel shrugged, "You don't have to invite me. Santana and I aren't friends and I don't mind keeping it that way."

Quinn's eyelids fluttered and she looked at the floor. "Yeah..." she said, barely audible.

"When is it?" asked Buffy.

"The fourteenth."

"Valentine's Day?" Rachel wrinkled her nose, "Buffy, won't you have plans? With Sam?"

"Oh, Sam..." Buffy trailed off looking disappointed just as a tall blond boy walked past.

"_Go ahead, make my day_," he said in a gravelly voice.

"...What?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Clint Eastwood. _Sudden Impact_."

"Oh. Listen, Sam, were you planning anything for Valentine's Day?"

"Marvel marathon. Obviously," he smirked.

"Great. We're gonna go to Santana's surprise party, okay?"

"Oh. Well, okay," shrugged Sam, glancing between the girls.

"Buffy, why aren't you wearing your Cheerios uniform?" Quinn suddenly asked, looking the girl up and down.

"Oh, I quit," Buffy replied, "I figured since you weren't on the squad anymore then what was the point?"

Quinn furrowed her brow and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Buffy trailed off, looking taken aback, "Well, that's why I joined the Cheerios. Because... well, so that they would let you join."

Quinn had an unimpressed frown on her face. "And why would you do that?"

"Because... well, cause..."

"Buffy?"

"Because Puck made me," she said, "He thought your mental well being depended on it."

"My _mental well being_?" Quinn asked through gritted teeth.

"I mean, you're happiness..." Buffy stammered.

"I'm sure Noah was just looking after you in a brotherly way-" Rachel started.

"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn raised her hand, "But I don't need anyone taking care of me. Where is he?!"

Sam turned and pointed down the hall. The others looked to see Puck taking up another spot behind the kissing booth. Quinn stormed down the hall in her vintage ankle boots and aggressively shoved Morgan Ru out of the way to slam her hand down on the surface of the booth, glaring at Noah Puckerman.

"What's your deal?" he asked in surprise, glancing at Morgan with mild concern.

"So that's how you got me back on the Cheerios? _Buffy_?"

Puck scowled. "Well, yeah. What do you care? You wanted in so I got you in."

"They didn't want me at all! The only reason they let me on was because they wanted _her_!"

"_Duh_, Quinn. And what does it matter. You quit. It's over. Who cares?"

"I care!"

Finn leaned over from his side of the booth, looking irritated. "Guys, you're kind of ruining business-"

"And _you_," Quinn scowled, "A kissing booth? Right in front of Rachel's locker? Why can't you just let her move on? She deserves someone better."

"Better than what?" Finn frowned, "You're such a hypocrite. You cheated, too."

"And you know what? When I cheated on you, I let you move on with your life. I didn't keep trying to win you back! Thank God!"

Puck weaved around the kissing booth and clasped Quinn's wrist, pulling her away and around the corner.

"Okay. Quit it," he said, letting go of her, "You're not mad at me or Finn. You're just mad for the sake of being mad. What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," Quinn sulked, "I have a right to be mad."

"_I _have the right to be mad."

"Why should you be mad?"

"Why should _I _be mad? Listen, Quinn, I know how douchey it sounds when guys complain about being friend-zoned. Rachel gave me the whole feminist speech a couple weeks ago in free period. When I do stuff for you, I don't expect some sort of sexual reward. I'm happy just being buds. Really, I am. What I'm not happy with is being your friend and then having you ignore me until one day you feel like making out in the girl's bathroom. Either I'm your friend or your sex buddy or I'm nothing, but don't make me all three."

Quinn pursed her lips and blushed, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of shame and embarrassment. "I... I'm sorry, Puck, I've just been-"

"A lunatic? I know," Puck shrugged, "I just can't sit back and enable it anymore."

Quinn opened her mouth and closed it again. "Have you been thinking about saying that for a while now?"

"Yeah. I got Rachel to help me with the vocabulary but I forgot most of it."

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm a self-obsessed bitch."

"Kind of."

"I'm so sorry, Puck. God, you must hate me."

"I don't hate you. I wish I could hate you."

"Well, I hate me."

"I know," frowned Puck, "I think that's your problem."

Quinn's eyes trailed over Puck's earnest face. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

Puck smirked. "Q, tomorrow's Valentine's Day. I already have four dates."

"Right," Quinn smiled, "Of course."

"Unless you've got a better idea."

"No, just, um... Santana's back in town for a while for her birthday, so we're throwing her a surprise party-"

"I'll be there."

"A-Are you sure? It's just a small thing. It's not exactly four hot dates."

"Only three of them are hot. One of 'em's pretty gap-toothed. Actually, even she's pretty hot. Whatever. Lopez's birthday. I'll be there."

xxx

"I can't believe Buffy told you."

"Of course she told me," said Tina, her head rested against the cool passenger's seat window of Kurt's car, "I'm one of her best friends. She even told me about your premonitions. What I didn't know was that my _mother _knew a slayer. _My _mom. She paints and sells moonstone jewelry and reads my aura every morning. I didn't think she was... I don't know. Cool."

Kurt smirked as he read the green Cleveland road signs. "Her house should be close. 84th street."

Tina looked at the excitement building on Kurt's face and felt a little anxious. "Kurt? What are you expecting here?"

"Mrs. Schuester can tell me how my mom died."

"Why is it so important to you?"

Kurt glanced at Tina, his brow creasing slightly. "It's my mom, Tina."

"No, I know, but... What if this doesn't make you feel better? What if you keep searching for information and you never feel like any of it's enough?"

Kurt bristled. "Of course it won't be enough. No amount of information about my mom will ever be enough, but... it's all I have."

"What are you going to say to her?"

"I don't know. Either way, she's probably in for a shock."

Tina nodded quietly as they pulled up to a white wooden house with a porch that would have looked nice if it had been taken care of. There was no light coming from the inside and it had an air of abandonment.

"She lives her?" Tina asked doubtfully.

"Your mom gave me the address. She's the only one who has it. Besides Mr. Schue, probably," said Kurt, "Come on."

They left the car parked on the sidewalk and walked up the front lawn, past the tufts of weeds and dry grass that stuck out from under the porch. Kurt rang the doorbell and heard the faint sound of it ringing from the inside. Several long moments passed as they waited for the door to open but nothing happened. Kurt rang the doorbell again, starting to look worried.

"I don't think anyone's here," Tina said, her eyebrows knitted together.

"She has to be here," grumbled Kurt.

"Maybe she moved. Or maybe she'll be back later."

Kurt rang the doorbell a consecutive ten times, irritation apparent on his face as he stabbed at the button. The front door swung open, leaving Kurt and Tina separated by a thin screen door from a stout woman with a bob of gray hair, her face mostly obscured by the wire in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes at the two of them. "What are you...? ...Kid?"

"Sorry to bother you," said Kurt, looking nervous, "Um, I'm-"

"Kid," she said drowsily, "Her kid."

"What?"

"Uh..." she looked down for a moment before looking back at Kurt's face, "Kurt. Kurt Hummel. You're her son."

**Thank you for reading :) I really look forward to hearing what you guys think about where the story's going.**


	54. The Death of Elizabeth Hummel

**a/n: Sorry for making you all wait so long for another update, but I hope you enjoy this one! This chapter focuses heavily on Kurt and his mother's past (note the title) so I'm immediately going to apologise to the shippers. I promise the next chapter will see some development of Faberry/Bantana. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! You guys are awesome!**

Debra Schuester didn't look how Kurt imagined her. When he imagined Mr. Schue's mom he thought of someone cheerful. Jolly. Curly-haired, probably. In reality, her gray hair was brittle and unmade. She wore ankle boots and corduroys and a loose-fitting sweatshirt and the first thing she did when she led the two teenagers into her home was pour herself a glass of scotch that had been sitting in a clear bottle on top of her liquor cabinet.

Kurt and Tina stood awkwardly in her front room, wondering if they should take a seat on her worn-in brown couch. Her outdated TV set was turned onto Judge Judy. There was no bowls of hard candy or Hummel figurines like in the houses of other old ladies. There were old books and dirty dishes and stains in her shag carpet. A stench of cigarettes clung to the house. Tina kept glancing around anxiously. Kurt could tell she wanted to leave.

Debra took a long gulp of scotch and stared at Kurt over her glass. She silently stared for too long and Kurt wondered if she was drunk.

"Mrs. Schuester-"

"God, you have her eyes," she exhaled, not exactly sounding sober.

Kurt blinked, stunned. "Um, yeah. My dad tells me."

"Your dad. Do you two still live in Lima?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What are you doing all the way in Cleveland?" she raised a dark gray eyebrow.

Kurt shuffled slightly in his designer boots. "Um... I wanted to talk to you about my mother."

Debra nodded. "Yeah. I imagine. How'd you find out?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You wouldn't be here looking so curious if you didn't know about... what she was."

"A slayer."

Debra grunted and looked Tina up and down. "You should be Melissa's, then. Christina."

"Tina," the teenager corrected timidly, "Yeah. Melissa is my mom."

"And you're here, because...?"

"I wanted Tina to come with me," said Kurt.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you two kids after you came all this way, but I don't think there's anything I can tell you about Elizabeth that you couldn't find out from Burt or Melissa."

"You were with her when she died," Kurt said abruptly.

Debra stared at Kurt for a moment. "And you want me to tell you? About that?"

Kurt nodded quickly, staring back at Debra with wide eyes. "I need to know."

"No, you don't," Debra frowned sternly, "Nobody needs to know. And I'm not interested in telling you that. Sorry you had to come all this way for nothing, but I think you should go now."

Kurt's mouth fell open in protest. "What, but-" he stammered, "I came here to find out-"

"I know why you came here. When she left you, she left a hole in your heart, but you're not gonna fill that hole by finding out every detail about her life," frowned Debra, surly, before she drained the last of her scotch, "Now I think it's best if you leave."

Kurt pursed his pink lips and clenched his pale fists. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what I need to know."

Tina's eyes widened as she glanced between Debra and Kurt, waiting for someone to break the ice that had frozen over the living room. Debra just stared back at him, her face slowly thawing with resolve.

"It's not gonna make you feel better," she said, slight concern in her drawling voice.

"I'm not expecting it to," answered Kurt with a level of defiance still in his voice.

Debra smirked and poured herself a second glass of scotch.

"Well, sit down," she said, sauntering towards her polyester armchair, "It's a long story."

**2000**

She took some warm clothes and weapons and one family picture. Her thoughts were too muddled to think of what she really needed. She was just throwing random things into her duffel bag, leaving far too much of herself behind. She took her perfume, though, her favorite one. Lilac or lavender. She could never remember. The kid had picked it out because it was purple and had a picture of Paris on it.

"Can you please stop? Can we talk about this?"

"We've talked about this. We can't keep talking about it. We'll end up talking until it's too late and somebody gets hurt."

"Nobody's getting hurt-"

"Everyone's getting hurt!" Elizabeth dropped her duffel bag and stared wide-eyed at Burt, her face getting red and tears glistening under the dim light of the ceiling lamp in their small bedroom, "God, I can't keep doing this!"

"So you're just gonna leave forever?" Burt asked, raising his voice, "And what about me and Kurt? Do we get a say?"

"No. You don't!"

"You're being selfish-"

"Selfish?! No, what's selfish is sitting around playing house acting like everything's fine when I'm this close to getting the people I love killed!"

"We are fine. You are the one who _protects _us, Elizabeth."

"You wouldn't need to be protected if it wasn't for me," Elizabeth shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks, "Darkness follows me wherever I go. And it'll follow my family."

"Stop it," Burt frowned, "You shine brighter than anyone I've ever met. I need you. Kurt needs you."

"Kurt doesn't need this!" Elizabeth cried, "He's gonna have that scar on his arm for the rest of his life to remind you and me of the danger I put him in."

"And you think that if you leave Lima that danger's gonna go away?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "They have watchers set up around town. If anything gets too hairy, they'll call me. I'll only be in Cleveland. Two hour drive, right?"

"So, what? You'll come back when the town needs you but you won't stay for your family?"

"I'm leaving for my family. You can't see that now but you'll see it later."

"The Hell I will."

"I have to do this, Burt! You know I do. Don't hate me."

"I could never hate you," Burt sighed, and opened his arm for Elizabeth to fall into. She breathed in his scent of aftershave and motor oil, her tears dripping onto his blue button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Tell the kid that I love him," she sniffed.

"You're not gonna say goodbye?"

"I don't want to wake him up," Elizabeth shrugged, "And I'm not good at that. I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to him if I tried."

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Um... I don't know. Make something up."

"I'm not a good liar. You know that."

"You can't tell him the truth. You can never tell him the truth. Promise me."

"Lizzy-"

"Please, promise me," she said, looking up at Burt's face through teary eyes, "I don't want him to think that he has to be like that. That there's darkness in him, too."

Burt frowned. "Okay. I promise."

"Thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I have to go," she said, looking resigned as she wiped the tears from her blotchy red face.

"Right now?"

"I have an errand to run before me and Debra head to Cleveland."

"What is it?"

"Nothing, just... I want to make sure that the kid has all the protection he can get."

Burt raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Don't worry about it, Burt. Just... Let him know that everything I did was for him. And that he's the most beautiful person in the world and..." she sniffed, trying with all of her willpower not to cry again, "Let him know that he is so loved. If he ever thinks he's too different or... or not different _enough_. He's loved and he's beautiful and he matter. More than anything else."

xxx

"You're late."

Debra had her arms folded over her sweater and the long cross necklace that hung from her neck. She stood on her porch looking as stern as ever.

"I had an errand to run," said Elizabeth, getting out of her Impala and leaning against the door in her oversized leather jacket.

"What errand?" Debra asked, walking down to the car.

"Don't worry about. Tying up loose ends and all that stuff. Are you ready?"

Debra nodded and gestured to the small suitcase she was pulling behind her. "What errand?" she repeated.

"Don't worry about it."

Debra raised a stern eyebrow. "Elizabeth..." 

Elizabeth sighed irritably. "I had to visit Shelby."

"Corcoran?"

"That's the one."

"Elizabeth..."

"I just needed a favor."

"That's the last thing I want to hear. A favor from Shelby Corcoran? The magicks that girl practises are on the precipice of the dark arts-"

"Deb, come on. It's not a big deal. She's moving to New York, she needed money. She was willing to help me with something."

"Help you with _what_?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Debra!" Elizabeth pleaded, looking desperate, "Please, let's just get out of Lima."

Debra looked imploringly at her. "You're right. We should get going."

"You don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to leave Lima with me."

"I have nothing to stay for."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "What about Mr. Schuester? What about Will?"

"My husband and I split up."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? Deb-"

"Elizabeth, please," Debra raised her hand, "You're going through enough already."

"William will be with his father. He'll be fine without me."

"It's not fair. You shouldn't have to leave your son because of me."

"You'll always come first, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth knitted her fair eyebrows at her watcher. "Even before your son?"

"I'm a watcher," said Debra, "I made an oath that my slayer would always come first."

Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked at her watcher with her arms folded. She didn't know if she could ever put anything before the kid. Anything.

"Let's get going, then," she said, and opened the passenger's seat of her Impala for Debra. She got into the driver's seat and closed the door with a tinny bang.

"Let me buy you a new car, Elizabeth," Debra wrinkled her nose, "This tin can breaks down bi-weekly."

"No way," Elizabeth sternly pointed at her watcher, "This is my pride and joy."

Debra rolled her eyes. "Don't be one of those people who gives their vehicles female names and refers to them as 'she'?"

"Steve is a he," smirked Elizabeth.

"_Steve?_ You're the reason Burt Hummel decided that fixing cars was a legitimate career."

Elizabeth smiled sadly and turned the key in the ignition. "He makes good money."

"Not the kind of money he would have made if he finished business school."

"He's _happy_," Elizabeth stressed, "He _was _happy... He'll never forgive me."

Debra's mouth was pulled down in a concerned frown. "Of course he will. He loves you."

Elizabeth bristled as she pulled out of the driveway. "Don't remind me."

**Present**

"Rachel? Can I talk to you?"

Rachel looked up from a library book she'd been reading in the choir room to see Buffy standing in front of her, looking anxious.

"Of course," Rachel smiled with mild surprise, "What's the matter, Buffy?"

Buffy threw down her backpack and slumped into a seat beside Rachel. "Are you still doing that couples' counselling?" she asked.

Rachel closed her book and shook her head. "I decided I wasn't the best choice to give relationship advice after everything that's happened between me and Finn."

"Right. Well... there was something I wanted to ask you about because... well, I still think you're the best choice."

Rachel blushed. "Well, thank you, Buffy. What did you want to ask?"

Buffy exhaled deeply. "Let's say... You're a girl."

"I'm with you so far."

"And there's this person. This really cool, complex, mysterious person who you've known for a while now."

Rachel blinked. "Yes?"

"Let's say that you came to realize that this cool person has feelings for you. Serious feelings. Romantic feelings."

"Okay," Rachel replied softly.

"And even though you've always liked this person because they're cool and sexy and everything you always wanted to be... You never really tried to think of them like _that_. But now that you know that the possibility of something more than friendship is out there... you think maybe you _could _like her back."

"Her?" Rachel implored.

"This is just a hypothetical situation, Rachel."

"Right."

"So, maybe the idea of you two together excites you, because she's really... _great_, you know?"

"Yeah."

"You do?"

"I mean... I can imagine."

"So... what would you do?"

Rachel smiled. "I'd follow my heart. I'd take a risk. For love."

Buffy smiled sentimentally. "Of course you would."

Rachel shrugged. "I'm a romantic, Buffy."

"What if there was a problem with the scenario."

"What kind of problem?"

"What if there was a boy in your life. A boy who would keep you and this cool person apart. A boy who... you actually care about, even though you'd rather be with this other person."

Rachel knitted her brow. "I think... It would be worse of me to stay with this boy and not truly love him than to set him free to be with someone who belongs with him."

Buffy nodded sadly. "It's just hard to hurt people."

"I know," Rachel shrugged, and put her hand over Buffy's, "But you have to be with the person you love."

Buffy looked conflicted as she stared down at the tiled floor. "What if I don't know yet? What if I'm not sure who I love? What if this cool person is really exciting but this boy is the one I'm meant to be with?"

Rachel sighed. "I think if there's someone you're meant to be with, you'll just _know_."

"But I _don't _know."

"Then you'll have to make a choice."

Buffy frowned. "Everyone keeps saying that."

"Everybody?"

"Well, you and Blaine."

"You talked to Blaine?"

"Yeah. I mean, Tina and Kurt are gone on their road trip thing-y so I thought maybe I'd take my hypothetical situation to Blaine."

"Uh huh? What did he say?"

"The same thing, basically. Only more squirmy and less words. There's one more hypothetical problem."

"What is it?"

"This cool person who likes you; what would you do if your best friend kind of... hated her?"

Rachel smiled sympathetically. "I would want my best friend to support me no matter who I choose to be with."

Buffy grinned at her friend. "I would support you."

"I would support you, too, Buff."

xxx

"Do you think she passed out or something?"

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "No, she just... needs a minute."

Debra had excused herself and headed upstairs before her story had really even started, leaving Kurt feeling anxious.

"What if it was really horrible?" he wondered aloud, "Her death?"

Tina frowned awkwardly. "I can go wait in the car... if you'd rather be alone."

"No. I'd like it if you... stayed here." Kurt put his hand on Tina's, sitting up, stick-straight, on Debra Schuester's couch.

They waited silently until Debra trudged back into the room, her unsettled eyes on Kurt.

"Are you sure you wanna hear the rest of this story?" she asked, her arms folded.

"Yes," Kurt nodded, his voice cracking with uncertainty.

"Doesn't have a happy ending."

"Didn't expect it to."

Debra pursed her lips and stared at Kurt, as if mulling something over. "Your mom was in a bad way by the end. Leaving you and your dad... It was the hardest thing she ever did. But she knew she had to do it. There was no way out. That scar on your arm..."

Kurt nodded. The one that reached from his elbow to his shoulder in a jagged line.

"A vampire did that to you."

Kurt winced. Somehow, he'd known. Maybe something in a dream had reminded him of the repressed memory. "How did it happen?"

"It was a vampire your mom had met and battled too many times. One she just couldn't find the opportunity to kill. He was looking for blood. Slayer blood. He got to you first. That was when she left, the first time."

"The first time?" Kurt repeated, barely a whisper.

"She wanted to keep you safe, but she couldn't stay away. She needed to be with you and your father. Without her family, she felt like nothing. It broke her heart to leave, but two years later, Spike came back."

"Spike?!" Tina gasped, and then blushed at the outburst.

"Spike," Kurt murmured, "William the Bloody?"

Debra's eyes widened. "You know him?"

"We helped fight him," said Tina, "I mean, with the slayer. The new slayer. She goes to our school."

Debra put her hand to her temple. "Of course she does," she said, and then mumbled under her breath, "Kid can't escape that life. Not if he lives on the Hellmouth."

"So this is _his _fault," Kurt sneered, "He terrorised my mother a-and drove her away from her _family_... This is because of him, isn't it?"

Debra sighed. "It wasn't just Spike... She was a slayer. Evil was all around."

"Did he... Did Spike _kill _her?"

Debra shook her head. "No. No, Spike wasn't... Don't go looking for him. He's powerful."

"He's dead," Tina said quietly.

"Dead?" Debra repeated, in shock.

"Buffy, the slayer, she killed him," said Tina, "Well, with the help of Sunshine, the... other slayer."

"_Other _slayer?" Debra raised a thin eyebrow and shook her head, "I've been out of the Watcher's Council's loop for too long."

"What killed her?" Kurt asked impatiently.

Debra sighed heavily and fell hard into her armchair. "She did," she said, her eyes welling up, "She killed herself."

Kurt exhaled in disbelief. "No, she... She couldn't have."

Debra stared longingly at a bottle of clear brown liquid on top of the liquor cabinet, but didn't make a move to get it.

"Her body was drained of blood," Tina said quietly, earning the curious stares of the other two, "When Blaine researched slayers, he told Buffy that Elizabeth's body was... drained of blood."

Kurt looked back at Debra, panic in his glassy eyes. "Well?"

Debra bristled. "She's right," she said quietly, and stood up to pour herself a drink.

"What happened?" Kurt asked impatiently.

"Are either of you familiar with what is known as a Bite Den?" Debra asked dryly over a glass of scotch.

Kurt looked imploringly at Tina, who had her brow knitted with worry.

"Places run by vampires, where people go to... give blood."

Kurt frowned. "Why would people voluntarily let vampires drink from them?"

"Thrill seekers," Debra glowered, "Occult worshippers. Morons."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "My mom...?"

"Was none of those," Debra said certainly, "But sometimes Bite Dens... disguise themselves."

"What do you mean?"

Debra sighed heavily and sat back down, scotch in hand. "Your mother was different when she left you and your father. She was depressed. She was like a ghost. Like a shell of herself. She wasn't even as strong as she used to be, in Lima. It's like she was gone. The only time it felt like she was alive was when she was angry. We fought so often, about going home, about our sons. I would get mad at her for being so morose and she would get mad at me for not being morose _enough_. Sometimes I felt that she hated me. Like _I _was the reason she had to leave her family.

Her drive to slay was virtually gone and yet... I would find her sneaking off at night again and again just to _walk_. She just couldn't sleep. She couldn't eat. A couple times during the year she would return to Lima to check on you and your father from afar, and every time she came back to Cleveland, she would feel even worse. She started turning to magic to give her... energy. Moments of false happiness. But she didn't have the power or the practise to do much.

I don't know how she caught wind of it - probably from demon connections - but she found some kind of service. Run by a Djinn."

"Gin?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Djinn," Tina answered, "God-like beings. They can travel through alternate realities."

"They can transport other people, too," said Debra, "Well... their souls. Not their bodies."

"I don't understand," said Kurt, "What does this have to do with my mother?"

"Your mother... was desperate. For a way out."

Kurt's eyes widened. "To an alternate universe?"

Debra sighed. "It was a scam. It was... a trick. Like I said, the Djinn can transport your mind, but not your body. They sent her to a place where she didn't have to be chosen. Where she was unburdened by destiny. But her body remained in their captivity."

Tina looked grave. "For vampires."

Kurt's eyes looked dewy. "Is that what happened?"

Debra nodded. "She bled out. Drained. Before I could save her."

"She didn't..." Kurt stammered, "She didn't kill herself."

"Kurt-"

"No. _Vampires _killed her. That... that _Djinn_ killed her. She did not kill herself."

"She let it happen."

Kurt clenched his jaw. "You said she was desperate!"

"She wasn't the only one who was desperate," Debra scowled, "And what she did was... selfish. And weak."

"No! You do not get to blame her for being weak!" Kurt stood up and yelled shrilly, "She was the strongest... She was stronger than any of us, and just because, in her most desperate moment, she did something weak, it doesn't mean that that's how she's going to be remembered."

Kurt balled his fists and strode out of Debra's house, Tina following him meekly. He stomped down the rickety porch and stood at the curb, breathing heavily.

"Kurt..." Tina said softly.

"I'm angry, okay?"

"I can see that-"

"I'm angry because she gave up," Kurt shook his head, "I'm angry because... Mrs. Schuester is right and she was weak and I'm angry because of how hypocritical that is. She left to keep us safe and to keep everyone safe and no-one should blame her just because she put herself first for _once_."

Tina wrung her hands together in the chilly breeze. "...I know."

"I have to be strong for her," Kurt said calmly, turning to Tina and holding back tears, "I have to be strong because of her."

Tina held out her hand and Kurt took it in his. She smiled sadly. "My middle name is Elizabeth. I never really thought about it before, but now it's obvious why. And I'm proud. She wasn't weak. She was a warrior... who did one weak thing."

Kurt blinked tears out of his eyes and pulled Tina into a hug. He was just tall enough to rest his chin on the top of her head and watch Debra Schuester step out onto the porch.

"Kurt," she called to him, something small and silver in her hand.

He let go of Tina and they both turned to Debra.

"I'm sorry," she said, her brow creased sternly, and held out the silver thing for him to take. It was a key attached to a leather bracelet.

"What's this?" asked Kurt, wiping his eyes dry.

"Elizabeth would have wanted you to have it. It's been parked in my garage all this time and I don't go out much, so..."

She tossed him the keys and in a pair of ratty slippers, led him and Tina to the garage. He widened his eyes at the car inside. He'd heard about his mother's prized car, but didn't really remember it in all its glory. It sat like a sleeping beast; a pitch black '67 Chevy Impala with rust on the edges.

Debra smiled at it, a hint of sadness in her blue eyes. "She called it Steve."

Kurt circled the car and opened the driver's seat. Steve smelled like lilacs and his leather seats were smooth and soft. Despite his dad being a mechanic, Kurt had little interest in cars, but this was something else.

"It's so... her."

"Mm. Arrogant muscle car," Debra said under her breath, but loud enough for the teenagers to hear, "Very Elizabeth."

Kurt just smirked at the comment.

"Well, Impala is a word from the Zulu language of South Africa, meaning gazelle," Tina explained shyly, "So, um, I think the name suggests strength and... grace."

Kurt put his hands on Steve's roof and smiled at Tina. "Debra... can you give us a minute?"

"Sure," Debra nodded, and walked away from the garage.

Kurt slid easily into the driver's seat. The seat adjustment suggested he was just as tall as his mother had been. Tina nervously scooted into the passenger's seat.

"Male Impalas are especially assertive, even though they look so... cute..." she added awkwardly.

"How is it that you know so much about African gazelles and yet we can't have a conversation about the season finale of Grey's Anatomy?" Kurt teased.

"S-Sorry," Tina stuttered, "Um... I watch Teen Wolf."

"Ooh, Scott or Jackson?" 

"Stiles."

Kurt grinned, leaning his head back. "I have even more questions than I did before."

Tina raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"My mom ran an errand before she left Lima. An errand with Shelby. Shelby Corcoran."

"Rachel's birth mom."

"What did she need from her?"

"It was probably nothing."

"Maybe," Kurt said, looking restlessly out of the window, "Another thing... that Djinn thing. You say that it... it sends your mind away. Your soul. But not your body."

Tina nervously widened her brown eyes. "You think... that her soul is still..."

"What if she's still in that alternate universe?" Kurt asked quietly, "What if her soul just needs a body to come back to?"

"Kurt-"

"It makes sense, though, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," Tina knitted her eyebrows, looking pained, "But I don't think-"

"What if there's a way we can bring her back?"

"Kurt... I don't think new slayers would have been called if your mom was still alive..."

"But it's not really the same. I mean, her body is dead and her soul is in an alternate universe. I mean, that's basically what dead _is_, right? Your body is gone and your soul is somewhere else. Right?"

"Maybe," Tina shrugged nervously.

"Tell me if I sound crazy."

"No, it's just... I'm a little... doubtful. A-And even if you're right, if her soul is trapped in an alternate reality... I don't think any of us have the kind of power to bring her back."

Kurt nodded, disappointed. "Yeah... It was a stupid idea, anyways."

Tina frowned. "Wherever she is... I bet she's happy."

Kurt forced a smile. "Yeah. I hope so," he said, gripping the steering wheel. He winced as a dull ache struck through his head.

"Are you okay?" asked Tina, as Kurt put his hand to his temple.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine, I just-"

Kurt gasped as a much more striking, searing pain bolted through his head like lightning. He leaned forward, clenching his eyes shut, until they were forced wide open. An odd weightlessness rushed through him as he realized he wasn't in the Impala anymore. He furrowed his brow in confusion to see that he was at the Bronze. Tina and Blaine had a table together and were speaking French to a monkey. They waved enthusiastically at Kurt.

_What the Hell is going on?,_ thought Kurt, _Now is really not the time to be having a dream._

Kurt turned, searching through the mass of dancing teens. He quickly spotted his mother. She looked like she did in the last dream he'd had. White dress. White hair. She was looking straight at him.

"I see you," she said telepathically, "I see right in here."

Kurt frowned. "What does that mean?" he said out loud. His voice was harsher and realer than anything else in that moment. He realized that this was the first time he could consciously interact with his visions.

"What is this?" he asked, quieter.

"This is a warning," she said without moving her lips.

Kurt shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand. Are you... Are you still alive, somewhere?"

His mother disappeared. Kurt spun around, looking for her, but across the room, he saw Buffy. She waved at him, a smile on her pink lips. Kurt started to walk towards her, but before he could cross the almost impenetrable wall of adolescents between them, Kurt saw Santana approaching from behind Buffy, a fire in her red eyes. With nimble hands, she cracked Buffy's neck in one swift movement.

Kurt gasped as Santana leered hungrily over Buffy's dead body. She was soon joined by Spike and Drusilla, whose lithe, pallid figures felt as real as ever.

"Happy birthday," Drusilla smiled fiendishly.

Kurt gasped and lifted his head from the steering wheel. He looked around nervously to find he was back in his mother's car and Tina was shaking his shoulders.

"Kurt!" she gasped, "Are you okay?! You passed out!"

Kurt stared at her for a moment. "How long was I out?"

"Just a second. What-"

"Tina," Kurt said breathlessly, "Spike and Drusilla are alive."


	55. The Surprise

**a/n: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Supernatural fans can probably tell from my last chapter that the Impala and the Djinn were inspired by my love for that show. This one we get to see Santana's surprise party, so I hope you enjoy.**

xxx

"Angel!" Buffy called, knocking urgently at the vampire's door, in a basement apartment at the town's edge.

"Hold on," she heard his gruff voice calling from behind the door and it subsequently swung open to reveal him looking groggy, his shirt off and his dark hair tussled.

"Sorry," said Buffy, clasping her hands together, "It slipped my mind that you would be sleeping right about now."

"It's fine. What's wrong?" 

"Nothing, it's just, something happened."

"Are you okay? Is Santana-?"

"I'm fine. She's fine, I think. It's my friend, Kurt."

"The one with the premonitions?"

"Yeah. I think he had another one."

Angel nodded. "Come in," he said and closed the door behind her as she stepped inside. He picked a white t-shirt up from a laundry hamper in the kitchenette and threw it over his broad shoulders. "What was the premonition about?"

"He says, um... Santana killed me. Spike and Drusilla were there. He thinks... well, he says he _knows _that Spike and Drusilla are alive."

"He knows?" Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Except, I mean, there's no way he can really know for certain, right? The only evidence we have is his vision and that could mean anything, right?"

"Are his dreams usually accurate?"

"Well, usually, but in very vague ways. But he says this one was different. Stronger and more real. He wasn't even sleeping when it happened."

Angel clenched his jaw, in deep thought. "It sounds like your friend is some sort of clairvoyant."

"But is he right? Can he be? What if Spike and Drusilla are alive? We never saw their bodies!"

"Have you told your watcher about this?"

Buffy paused, taken aback. "W-Well, no. Mr. Schuester's been distracted lately. He's got a new girlfriend and-"

"Regardless, you should tell your watcher. What about your other friends? Your, uh... scooby gang. I'm just... I'm not sure why you came to me before, say, Santana."

Buffy's face immediately flushed red. "That's complicated."

Angel shrugged. "I've never been a teenage girl so I'm not going to pretend to know what it's like and I've always been... straightforward. Santana cares about you. More than that, she's passionate about you. She's... she's nuts about you, Buffy."

Buffy blushed. "I... I know, I just-"

"You need to put her out of this agony soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell her your decision. Don't let her continue hoping for something that might never happen."

xxx

Tina had sheets sprawled out on the coffee table of her already kitschy cluttered living room. Words like pink and French and monkey in bullet points in her notebook as she scrawled endlessly.

"Maybe The Bronze doesn't actually represent the club. Maybe it's connected to the color bronze," Tina said, her tongue slightly sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

"What significance is the color bronze?" asked Kurt, sitting beside her and watching her near-obsessive researching.

"The dream website says it means you need to take better care of your health."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "My health is perfect. I'm a flexitarian."

"Maybe it's less literal than that," said Mike, twirling a pen in his hand as he sprawled over Tina's armchair, mostly engrossed in a Chemistry textbook, "I mean, that's what we learn in AP English Lit, right? Everything has a deeper meaning."

"Yeah," Tina nodded at her boyfriend, "So maybe it's warning you to take care of your... mental health?"

"Maybe it's just a general warning," said Mike, his eyes still flitting through his textbook, "That nothing is safe."

Tina smiled proudly. "That's my boyfriend," she smiled to herself, "So, danger." She wrote 'danger' in capital letters on one of the pages. "Next. Me and Blaine speaking French to a monkey."

"I don't think that has any meaning," Kurt shrugged.

"Never underestimate the power of subconscious symbolism," Tina shook her head, "You speak French, right? Do you know what we were saying to the monkey."

Kurt sighed and shook his head. "I don't know..."

"Try to remember."

Kurt pursed his lips and thought. "Something like... Sauver et un traitre."

Tina frowned. "Savior and traitor. What could that mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe someone will save Kurt and someone will betray him," suggested Mike.

"Me and Blaine?" Tina raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily. What does a monkey mean?" asked Mike, "You were speaking French to a monkey."

Tina read from one of her pages, "Monkeys in dreams symbolize deceit, insight and intuition or an immature or mischievous side to your personality."

"And French monkeys?" asked Kurt.

"It... doesn't say. But you said your mom was there."

"Yeah. White hair. White dress."

"Well, white represents purity, peace and starting anew. In Eastern cultures, its associated with death."

"Sometimes," said Mike, "it's associated with a cover-up."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the boy. "A cover-up?"

Mike nodded. "Like, a white lie."

"Did your mom say anything?" asked Tina.

"Um, yes, actually. She said, 'I see you'."

"I see you?"

"Yeah. 'I see you. Right in here.' Something like that," Kurt said thoughtfully. They were the same words Blaine said to him once in a dream, but Kurt decided not to mention that. "Wait!" he said suddenly, "After that she said... 'This is a warning'."

"A warning?" asked Tina, "Like she was warning you of danger?"

"I don't know," Kurt shrugged, "She disappeared after that. Then Buffy was there. Then Santana and Santana looked... evil."

"Evil how?"

"Her eyes were red."

"And then...?" 

"And then she snapped Buffy's neck."

"And that's when Spike and Drusilla showed up?" asked Tina.

Kurt nodded and Tina emitted a sigh. "This is all so complex," she groaned, putting her head in her hands, "I'm better with facts, not... conjecture."

"The only thing I'm sure of is that Spike and Drusilla are out there. Somewhere."

"How can you be sure?"

"I just... I _know_. I can't explain how or why, but I just... know."

xxx

"I have your package."

The minion walked meekly into the lair - walls of stone held back with wooden panels and furnished with objects only the undead could find comforting.

"Just put it on the table," Spike groaned, the spokes on his wheelchair grating stiffly against each other as he rolled forward on a rocky surface, "With the other gifts."

Drusilla smiled girlishly, draping her arms over Spike's shoulders from behind.

"You're dead set on this, pet," Spike sighed, "Sure you wouldn't rather have your party in Vienna?"

"But the invitations are sent," Drusilla smiled, "My gatherings are always perfect."

Candles lit the lair as minions rushed quietly back and forth, setting up for the party.

"But Sunnydale is cursed for us," Spike moaned, "Because of the slayer. Because of Angel and his infernal companion. They see to it."

Drusilla shushed him, leaning intimately close into his ear. "I've got good games for everyone. You'll see."

She licked the tip of his ear with a devilish smile and turned away to admire her decor. Her eyes landed on the flowers garnishing the tables; a dull red that made her tongue taste like paint. She grimaced.

"These flowers... are all wrong. They're all... wrong," she frowned and whimpered slightly, "I can't abide them!"

She let out a strangled cry and tore animalistically at the flowers, ripping them from their vines.

"Let's try something different with the flowers!" Spike called to their minions.

Drusilla let the petals fall from her hands and let out a calming sigh. Her eyes landed on the table of wooden boxes and garishly wrapped packages.

"Can I open one?" she asked innocently, "Can I?"

Spike smirked slightly at her.

"Can I?" she repeated, a giddy smile on her face.

"Just a peek, love," Spike said tenderly, and wheeled closer, "They're for the party."

Drusilla purred happily and opened the lid from one wooden box, gasping with delight at the gift inside.

"Do you like it, baby?" he asked.

"It reeks of death," she moaned with joy, "This will be the best party ever."

"Mm. Why is that?"

"Because," Drusilla sweetly simpered, "It will be the last."

xxx

Kurt parked the Impala on the curb outside of his house and slammed the car door shut behind him. After everything that had been revealed to him, Kurt felt a buzz through his system. An urgency and a newfound strength that might've been inspired by his mother or might have been inspired by the new friend he found in an old acquaintance; Tina. Either way, he felt a small rush of ambitious excitement when he spotted Blaine's head of thick, dark hair. The boy was sitting on Kurt's small porch, writing into his ever-present sketchbook with a 2B pencil.

"Blaine?" Kurt called to him, purposefully approaching across the short front yard and not bothering to run a hand through the bronze tips of his hair that were sticking straight up after a day of restlessness.

"Oh, hey," Blaine greeted him and closed his sketchpad, standing up and patting down his Dalton blazer.

"What are you doing sitting out on the porch?" asked Kurt, realizing in his suede ankle boots he was several inches taller than the adorably awkward boy in front of him.

"Waiting for you," Blaine said nervously, "I, uh, I just wanted to talk and your dad and step-brother intimidate me."

Kurt smirked. "Finn and my dad may look big but they're hardly a threat."

Blaine attempted a smile, though he seemed to be fidgeting self-consciously.

"What's the matter?" asked Kurt.

"Nothing, I... I just wanted to make sure you weren't... avoiding me."

Kurt wrinkled his brow apologetically. "Blaine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to seem like I was avoiding you. I know things got awkward after I found out about my mom, but that's not your fault."

Blaine sighed. "I just feel so guilty."

"Don't be. I'm glad you told me. It's the best thing that ever could've happened to me."

"It is?" Blaine asked skeptically.

"Yeah. The reason I've been MIA lately is because I've been searching high and low to find out about my mother's past and even though I'm sure I have a lot more about her to learn, for now, I think I've learned a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Kurt smirked, "I learned that strong people do weak things and... You have to have control. Over yourself and your life and your destiny. Because my mother didn't have any control over her life and it killed her... That's not going to happen to me. I have her in me. I am powerful."

Blaine smiled, his button-round brown eyes circling Kurt's face. "I'm glad you learned that about yourself."

Kurt nodded. "My life is in my control. That means that certain things have got to change."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. All this time I've been putting the control in other people's hands and letting life drag me around in whatever direction it decides to go. I'm not going to do that anymore."

"What are you going to do?"

Kurt sighed and settled his stormy eyes on Blaine's. "First, I'm transferring back to McKinley."

Blaine looked slightly taken aback, slightly disappointed and slightly proud. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"It's what I need to do. Not Karofsky and not any other bully is going to push me around. Never again."

Blaine smiled and nodded, though his puppy-dog eyes seemed sad. "You really are strong, Kurt. You're brave."

"You can be, too."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"Yes, you can. Together, we can be brave."

Blaine grinned. "I don't know if I'm as confident as you, Kurt."

"I do," Kurt smiled, "It's all about control. Don't let anything - friends, enemies, fear - stand in your way. Courage. That's what you said to me."

Blaine looked slightly pained, his chocolate eyes fixated on Kurt's lips. "Control, huh?"

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, "For example... I keep having this dream where we kiss, and I think it's time to make that a reality."

Kurt gripped the edges of both of Blaine's blazer-clad shoulders with pale, urgent hands and pulled Blaine forward, placing his soft pink lips on Blaine's slightly clumsier ones. They leaned into each other's warmth and pulled back simultaneously, their eyes flickering over each other's faces.

"Wow," Blaine breathed, his lips now pink and his face almost the same shade.

"Yeah," Kurt grinned, and leaned in for another. Blaine jumped as the front door slammed shut and both boys looked up at the porch as Burt stepped out, hands on hips and looked bewildered at the very least.

"Dad!" Kurt gasped in surprise.

"What is this?" Burt demanded.

"This is... nothing," Kurt stammered, "We were just-"

"No, not that," Burt frowned, and pointed across the lawn at the Impala, "That!"

Kurt looked over at his mother's car and turned back to his dad, grinning slightly. "My new car."

xxx

"She seems truly conflicted, Santana."

"Yeah, she's probably trying to find a way to let me down easy."

Angel clenched his jaw, his face painted with shadows as the pair walked under and out of streetlamps in the night. "Don't be so pessimistic."

"I'm _not_. I'm being realistic. People don't _choose _me, Angel. They get stuck with me. Sofia didn't want me. Quinn's only around because her parents kicked her out. I mean, admit it, if you had your pick of vampiros con souls, you probably wouldn't choose me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"If you recall, I could have left, but I didn't. I decided to stay - chose to say - because of you. I care about you, and so does Sofia, and so does Quinn, and so does Buffy."

Santana grimaced. "But she doesn't love me."

"Santana-"

"No, she doesn't. She might care about me and like me. Even like the idea of having some sort of secret romantic homoerotic sexcapade worthy of a grocery store novel. But she doesn't love me. She won't choose me and that's... okay. I got over an almost lover once, I can do it again."

Angel nodded, disappointment painted in his under his dark eyelashes. "I'm not as certain as you are."

"Well, I'm certain enough for the both of us. God, I wish we could just go get a drink at Willy's."

"We're almost at The Bronze. I think it's important for you to socialize tonight."

"I know Sofia asked you to bring me there."

"Just pretend to be surprised, okay?"

"Fine... Angel, what is that?"

Angel narrowed his eyes at where Santana was pointing in the distance. A small group of vampires were carrying wooden crates off of a loading truck, darting glances around their surroundings with suspicion.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't look good," Angel grumbled.

xxx

Quinn wrapped a strip of tape around the end of a streamer and strained to the tip of her ankle boots to reach for a high spot on the wall of The Bronze, balanced on a chair.

"Kurt," she sighed and turned around, unable to reach, spotting the tall, thin boy dressed in Alexander McQueen and engrossed in the screen of his iPhone, "Can you help me with this? Kurt?!"

Kurt looked up from the bright screen of his phone. "Huh?"

"Can I get a little help?"

"Yeah, sorry," he said, and tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, "It's my and Blaine's one day anniversary."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and stepped off of the chair to let Kurt get on. "...Oh," she said, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he grinned and stretched his arms to stick the streamer in place, "I have a new philosophy. It's all about control. I see what I want and I do what I can to get it. I thought it was very Quinn Fabray of me."

Quinn fidgeted in her cotton dress. "Uh, yeah... I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess?" Kurt smiled, his eyes crinkling as he stepped off of the chair, "You're Quinn. Always in control."

Quinn raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? The homeless teen mom?"

Kurt sighed. "Maybe not every facet of your life is enviable, but it doesn't change the fact that you're somewhat of a legend to Lima losers like me."

"You're not a Lima loser, Kurt," Quinn shook her head, "If anyone's a Lima loser, it's me."

"Regardless. Don't tell me you've lost that manic controlling Fabray spirit."

"No, I just... I don't think it's been working out for me lately."

"Why not?"

"It's nothing, it's just..." Quinn shrugged, "There are some things I'm not sure how to get and... Sometimes I'm not sure if I should even want them."

Kurt frowned sympathetically. "Sometimes we forget to want what we already have."

Quinn smirked. "You're very deep these days."

"I think I heard that on Doctor Phil."

"Well, maybe you and Phil are right. I have more to be thankful for than I think, sometimes."

"You have Santana. I mean, you guys were always friends, but you used to have this bitter rivalry. I think vampirism and teen pregnancy have really brought you two together."

Quinn smiled and looked over Kurt's shoulder to see Jesse sauntering in through the entrance, a small package in his hand wrapped in silver paper and topped with a box. "Excuse me," she said to Kurt, "I have to start greeting guests."

"Sure," smiled Kurt, and Quinn squeezed his hand in a silent thanks. Although the contact was brief, Quinn felt and saw Kurt shiver and pull back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as anxiety clouded over Kurt's eyes.

"N-Nothing," he said, putting on a nervous smile, "I think there's a draft, is all."

"Well, okay," Quinn said skeptically, and left to greet Jesse at the door.

Kurt grimaced and looked around to see Buffy and Sam, standing near the refreshment table they had been standing by when he first arrived, being awkward and quiet. He thought perhaps he should talk to Buffy, but he didn't want to be the one to step into the tense atmosphere around her and her boyfriend, so he went back to texting Blaine.

"It's kind of nice. That Quinn did this for Santana," said Sam, biting into a cocktail sausage.

"Yeah," said Buffy, staring at the slightly sticking concrete floor of The Bronze.

"Things have been okay lately, right?" he asked.

"Yeah... What?"

"Just... maybe I've been a little distant."

Buffy stared at the entrance, Quinn and Jesse blurring in front of her eyes as she wondered when Santana would arrive and what she'd be wearing and what she'd be thinking when she saw Buffy.

"I think I've been happy, though. So far."

Buffy wrinkled her nose and turned to Sam, the tips of his bright blond bangs hanging over his vulnerable blue eyes. "What?"

Sam looked down at Buffy, his pink lips pursed as he contemplated what to say. "Are you happy?"

"...I guess so."

"I just... I didn't know if I should mention it later or wait until after the party..."

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked quietly, feeling guilty and a little feverish.

Sam sighed. "My dad found a job in Kentucky. Better pay and... benefits and stuff..."

Buffy blinked. "You... You're moving to Kentucky?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Maybe permanently."

Buffy's mouth fell open. Part of her thought that this was a perfect sign for what she should do, but another part of her was dismayed she would be separated from one of her best friends. Her eyes wavered over Sam's soft face and she knew she felt upset. It was one thing to be tormented by a choice you had to make, but it was much worse to have no choice at all.

"Listen, we've only been dating for a few months, so... I'll understand if you won't want a long distance relationship."

"I... I don't know-"

"I don't know how you feel about this whole thing, but I know that I love you, Buffy, and I would do anything to be with you."

Buffy frowned sadly. "I know."

"But it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. Whatever you choose to do... I love you."

Across the room, Puck walked in through the entrance and scanned The Bronze until he spotted Quinn's golden hair.

"Hey, Q," he smiled at her a few feet away and sauntered over. Quinn turned from Jesse and smiled.

"I'm glad you came," she said, her eyes bright, "Puck, this is Jesse St. James. Jesse, this is Noah Puckerman. Um, I think you two may have met briefly."

"Indeed we have. You're the baby daddy," Jesse smirked, sticking a hand in the pocket of his dark jeans.

Puck scowled. "Yeah. And you're the prep who egged Rachel."

Quinn blushed. "Guys, can we please keep it civil? Santana, should be here any minute."

"Yeah, where is the woman of the hour?" asked Puck, looking around.

Suddenly, a loud, glassy crash erupted through the near empty nightclub as the window behind the stage bust open and Santana fell through, wrestling a vampire underneath her. They struggled on the surface of the stage, amongst broken shards of glass and specks of dust. Santana plunged a stake into the heart and fell through the small cloud of dust.

Santana coughed and sat up, on her knees on the stage, looking out at the group of people who had gathered together, staring up at her in stunned silence.

"Surprise...?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Jesse mumbled.

Angel bounded through the broken window and put his hands over Santana's shoulders. "Santana, are you okay?"

"Santana, what happened?!" Sofia cried, rushing to the edge of the stage in her snakeskin heels.

"There were these vamps in the alley," said Santana, patting dust off of her clothes as she stepped offstage, "One of them was-... This place looks really nice."

"Happy birthday," Quinn quirked her eyebrows.

"This is really sweet, you guys. A-And I'm _so surprised_-"

"Just tell us what happened," Sofia urged her.

"Fine," sighed Santana, "A bunch of vamps were unloading these wooden crates. Angel thinks they were Spike and Drusilla's minions."

"So I was right?" asked Kurt, "Spike and Drusilla are back?"

"We can't know for sure until we see them in the flesh," said Angel, "But it doesn't look good so far. We have to see what was in those crates."

"I'll help," said Buffy, and the three of them left the club through the door instead of the broken window.

Quinn sighed in distress and turned to Puck, who was staring, slack-jawed, at the surface of the stage.

"Are _you _okay?" she asked, putting her French-polished hand on his shoulder.

"Did anyone else see that guy turn into dust?" he asked.

Jesse smirked. "Oh, you still don't know? Vampires are real. Santana is one of them. Quinn's a witch. I'm a warlock. Kurt is apparently a psychic. Get used to it."

Quinn scowled at Jesse. "It's a lot to absorb, I know-"

"Actually, it explains a lot," frowned Puck.

Buffy, Angel and Santana trudged in carrying heavy, wooden crates.

"What is it?" asked Kurt, as they put them down on a table.

"I have no idea," said Santana, "How do we open it?"

"It looks like there's some sort of release," said Buffy, putting her fingers over one side of the box and lifting the lid off. She gasped and dropped the wooden lid when she saw the heavily armoured, severed arm inside. She didn't have much time to scream when the hand scrambled forward and gripped Buffy's neck in its thick, callused hands.

Santana gripped Buffy's shoulder with one hand and pulled the severed limb off of Buffy's neck, finger by finger, wrestled it away and flung it back in the box, clamping the lid shut over it.

"Oh my God, Buffy, are you okay?" asked Kurt.

"Man," Buffy coughed, "That thing had a major grip."

"What _was _that?!" asked Quinn.

"Looked like an arm," Puck said matter-of-factly.

"It can't be," Angel shook his head, "She wouldn't..." 

"What?" Santana panted, her hands on her hips, "This the vamp version of snakes in a can?"

"Angel?" Buffy prodded.

"It's a legend before my time, of a demon brought forth to rid of the earth of the plague of humanity," Angel said, his Irish accent slightly coming through, "To separate the righteous from the wicked... and burn the righteous down. They called him The Judge."

"And this is The Judge?" asked Jesse.

"Not all of him," said Angel.

"Backstory?" asked Santana.

"The Judge can't be killed," said Angel, "An army was sent to destroy him. They dismembered him, but they didn't kill him. The pieces were scattered on every corner of the earth."

"Now all of the pieces are here," Santana frowned, "Drusilla did this. She had to. Those were Spike's men. You said so yourself."

"She's just crazy enough to do it," shrugged Angel.

"Do what? Reassemble The Judge?" asked Quinn.

"Reassemble The Judge," nodded Angel, "And bring forth Armageddon."

"Armageddon?!" Santana shook her head.

"I have to go. I'm the only one who can protect these pieces."

"What about me?" asked Buffy.

"You can't just skip town for a few months, Buffy," Angel shook his head.

"Months?!" cried Santana.

"I have to take the pieces to the most remote places on earth. I can catch a cargo ship to Asia, maybe trek to Nepal-"

"You know, nowadays we do have these newfangled flying machines that us city folk like to call airplanes."

"I can't travel by air, Santana, there's no way to ensure I could avoid sunlight. I have to leave. There's no other way."

Santana grimaced and briefly glanced at Buffy. "I'm going with you."

"What?!" Buffy and Quinn cried simultaneously.

"You are do-een no such thing, Santana Lopez," Sofia put her hands on her hips.

"Sofia, I love you and I love Quinn, but I'm going with Angel," Santana said furtively, "Nobody needs me here, but I have something I can do now. Someone I can help."

"No," Sofia shook her head, "You are no going anywhere. I am the adult ere!"

"With all due respect, Ms. Lopez, there are a few adults here and Santana is one of them," said Angel, turning to Santana, "Santana, are you sure you want to do this?"

Santana nodded. "I have to."

Buffy grimaced. "I'll go, too. I mean, to the docks. You guys need someone to help you carry those boxes, right?"

Santana looked sadly down at Buffy through thick eyelashes. "Right."

xxx

"You _lost _it?"

Dalton quaked in the dimly lit lair as Drusilla paced back and forth, the dark velvet of the end of her gown dragging across the stone floor.

"You lost my present?" she asked, her jaw clenched and her eyes wide with livid anger.

"I-I know," he shivered behind his rattling glasses, "I'm sorry-"

"Bad turn, mate," Spike frowned, leaning back in his wheelchair, "She can't have any fun without her box."

"The angelic one and his companion, they came out of nowhere. I-I didn't even see them-"

Drusilla lunged forward and snaked her slender arm around Dalton's neck, gently slipping off his glasses with the other.

"Make a wish," she said sweetly.

"W-What?"

Drusilla raised her hands, her ruby red fingernails razorsharp, and was poised to slash Dalton's face.

"I'm going to blow out the candles."

"Dru," Spike said nonchalantly, "You might give him a chance to find your lost treasure. He's a wanker, but he's the only minion we got with half a brain. If he fails, you can eat the eyes out of his sockets, for all I care."

"I'll get it," Dalton cried, "Please. I swear."

Drusilla curled her fingers in the palm of her hands and slid Dalton's glasses back onto his nose. "Hurry back, then."

xxx

The docks were dark but Buffy could hear the gentle slosh of waves against the cargo ship.

"We should go the rest of the way alone," said Angel, hauling two boxes under his arms. He nodded stiffly to Buffy and Santana and walked closer to the small ship.

Santana turned to Buffy and took on of the boxes she'd been carrying. "I'll be back," said Santana.

Buffy frowned and folded her arms in the cold air. "When?"

"You don't have to worry about it, slayer."

"Of course I'm going to worry about it. When am I going to see you again? Six months? A year? Who knows how long it will take or if we'll even..."

"If we'll even what?"

"If you haven't already noticed, someone pretty much always wants us dead."

"Don't say that, Buffy. We'll be fine."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. No-one can ever be sure. That's the point. Listen... Angel got me a birthday present," said Santana, sticking a hand in the pocket of her overcoat. She fished around and removed a silver ring. The ring didn't have a jewel or an inscription, but an engraving that looked like a miniature pair of hands holding a heart and wearing a crown.

"It's beautiful," said Buffy.

"It's called a claddagh ring. People wear them in Ireland. The hands mean friendship. The crown is royalty and the heart... well, you know. If you wear the heart pointing out, it means you're available. If you wear it pointing in, it means you're with somebody," Santana held out the ring, "I want you to have it."

Buffy's eyes widened. "I... No, Santana, it's yours."

"Which means it's mine to give. Please, I want you to have it."

Buffy smiled and took the ring in the palm of her hand, squeezing it tight. "Thank you." She smiled down at her ring, her bottom lip curling up and tears coming to her eyes.

"I don't want to do this, either," Santana said quietly.

"So don't. Don't go."

"I have to. What is there for me here? You know how I feel slayer."

"Yeah... I know..."

"So you know the only thing for me here is heartache. Maybe if I leave... I can get over you."

Santana and Buffy shook with surprise as a vampire bounded from the cargo ship and landed on the surface of the wooden dock with an impressive thud.

"Santana!" Angel called, rushing back to the girls as two more vampires appeared, snarling hungrily.

Buffy ducked and kicked, fighting off the nearest vamp when she saw a bespectacled minion darting in for the box Angel had dropped.

"Angel!" she cried, "The box!"

Angel threw himself forward and tackled Dalton the the ground, the box flying from his pale hands and skittering across the dock's surface.

Santana threw herself viciously into the fight until she felt an aching thud of a wooden plank hitting the back of her head. She stumbled forward, stunned, sprawling off the edge of the dock and into the water with a loud splash.

"Santana?!" cried Buffy. She ran forward and dove into the freezing water, trying to open her eyes in the dark murkiness and feel for skin or cloth. She grabbed onto what she sure was an arm and pulled in closer to wrap around a waist. With one arm, she paddled back toward the dock, dragging Santana along with her until she felt Angel's strong hands lifting both girls to the surface.


	56. The Choice

**a/n: I apologize for the shorter-than-normal chapter, but I've been busy and wanted to make an update this week. The ending on this chapter also seemed kind of natural, so I hope you like it.**

Quinn tore down the streamers and bundled them together, sticking the load into a trash can.

"Such a waste," Jesse shook his head in a dark corner of The Bronze with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, well..." was Quinn's only response.

"I wish I could help."

Quinn raised an eyebrow and looked into his marble grey eyes to deduce whether he was being genuine or not.

"You can help research, I guess," said Quinn, nodding over to a cushioned couch in front of the stage where Tina, Sam and Kurt were clustered around Tina's laptop. Buffy's brainy friend had been called immediately to utilize her researching skills and Buffy's watcher was on his way with books from his office.

"I don't think the Macbook needs a fourth audience member," Jesse shrugged.

"It's kind of a scooby thing. The research and stuff... I was thinking of calling Rachel, but..."

"But?"

"It would be... awkward. With you and... she's never been a fan of Santana, either."

"You'll miss her?"

"Who? Oh, Santana... of course I'll miss her," Quinn sighed, "She's my sister."

Jesse smirked. "Makes me glad I don't have that."

Quinn frowned. "What do you mean? You have a sister."

"No. Having to depend on other people for your happiness. It's not a risk I'd like to take. People are inherently selfish. They'll hurt you."

Quinn grimaced. "Aren't you inspirational as ever."

"I'm only telling the truth."

"Well, thanks for that," Quinn sighed.

Jesse looked down at his shoes. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I... I have been so lost."

"I know."

"I just don't know where I'm supposed to be. Who I'm supposed to be. I don't think I'm good for anyone right now."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I think I should be alone until I figure myself out. Independant."

"You've always been independent."

"Not always. Not really."

"What are you saying?"

"I think... Beth should stay where she is. With Shelby."

It was Jesse's turn to grimace. "I was afraid this would happen."

"I know, we had a deal-"

"No, it's... it's fine."

Quinn nodded. "I mean, what kind of parents would Puck and I have made? We're stupid kids."

"You're not stupid," Jesse said, looking at her intensely.

"Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"Didn't you want to win her back? Shelby? Which I find so unbelievably gross because, I mean, she's Rachel's mom and she's ancient, but... You love her, right?"

Jesse clenched his jaw. "Love is for children."

"We are children."

Jesse looked behind him, at the scooby gang studying on the couch and at Puck helping Sofia tuck the refreshments away in tupperware containers.

"It was a stupidly ambitious thought that I'd ever win her back. Women like her don't get taken. They take. The only problem is... I was so set on her being my future. Now I don't have one."

Quinn quirked her eyebrows sympathetically. "Yes, you do. You just don't know what it is yet."

Both of their gazes turned to the entrance as Mr. Schuester entered, a messenger bag over his shoulder,followed in by Buffy, Santana and Angel, who were all decked out in a fresh set of clothes. Quinn pushed past Jesse and ran to Santana, throwing her arms over the girl.

"I thought that was the last time I was going to see you," Quinn smiled into her hair.

Santana smirked. "Don't be so dramatic," she said, and hugged back tighter.

"What happened?!" Sofia demanded, sprinting to her daughter and throwing her arms over her.

"Dru's guys ambushed us," said Buffy, actively avoiding Sam's gaze, "They have the boxes."

"Why did you change?" asked Tina.

"We got wet," Angel said simply.

"What do we know so far?" Mr. Schuester directed his question at Tina.

"Well, the more we know about the Judge, the less we like him. His touch can literally burn the humanity out of you. No human has ever survived that. Only purely evil creatures."

"Can he be stopped?" asked Santana, "Without an army?"

"No weapon forged can kill him," said Tina, reciting an article, "But if we could keep them from assembling him-"

"We need to find his weak spots," Angel interrupted, "We need to figure out where they'd be keeping him."

"That could take a while," said Buffy.

"Right," Kurt nodded, "If our parents ask, we're all sleeping over at Santana's house."

xxx

"You look sleepy."

Buffy snapped her eyes open and looked up from the couch she'd been sitting at in The Bronze, where Santana was looming over her with a Lima Bean cup in her hand.

"What time is it?" Buffy asked groggily.

"Two-ish," said Santana, taking a seat next to the blonde and handing her the cup, "I picked up some java for the gang."

"Thanks," said Buffy, and downed a mouthful of hot, bitter coffee.

"Can I ask you something?" Santana said quietly, glancing behind her where a bunch of the scoobies sat at the bar, falling asleep over dusty old volumes. Only Tina was wide awake and wired, the glow of her laptop screen lighting up her face.

Angel had offered to take Quinn and Sofia home, but neither woman wanted to leave. Both were asleep on armchairs. Sam had headed home a few hours earlier and parted from Buffy with just a tentative pat on the shoulder. He'd quickly been replaced with Blaine, who Kurt had called and who had brought his own slew of useful demonology guides. While there was little Puck or Jesse could help with, neither would leave before the other.

"Ask me what?" Buffy replied to her.

"Why did you jump in after me at the dock?" asked Santana, "You know I don't need to breathe..."

Buffy blushed. "Right, well... I wasn't thinking."

"It was stupid."

"Well... yeah."

"Thank you."

Buffy looked at the vampire's solemn face. "Don't mention it."

"Kurt!" Blaine shouted.

The girls whipped around to see Blaine in a panic as Kurt slumped over the bar, unconscious. They leapt off the couch and ran to Kurt's side.

"Wait! I think he's having a vision!" said Tina.

"How do you know?" asked Santana.

Tina slid off of her bar stool and gently pulled Kurt's shoulders back, lifting the boy's head. While most of his face was blank and his body was slack, his eyes were wide open and moving, as if he was watching something play out in front of him. The sight was slightly disturbing. 

"Whoa," Puck breathed.

"Yeah," Jesse frowned.

Kurt suddenly gasped, his body becoming rigid and alert. He looked around at everyone gathered around him.

"Kurt," said Blaine, putting his hand on his boyfriend's with concern in his dark, round eyes.

Kurt sighed heavily. "I know where they are."

xxx

"More music!"

Drusilla clapped her hands with excitement like a little girl tucked into a black velvet dress. Her eyes were wide with wonder at the tattered decorations covered in ash and strewn around the abandoned factory, a string quartet of vampires playing The Devil's Trill. She grinned as she heard the rusty spokes of Spike's wheelchair coming near and he rolled forward with a cast iron box on his lap.

"Look what I have for you, duck," he grinned crookedly over the noise of music and merriment as the party played out in the dark factory.

"Ah! The best is saved for last," she said regally and took the box in her black polished fingers.

She took the box and moved to the corner of the room, where several boxes were stacked on top of each other in a precarious and strangely specific order, resembling the figure of a heavy man. She balanced herself on a footstool and reached up to place the last box on the very top of the pile. Suddenly, a surge of energy rumbled through the boxes as they all clicked together like puzzle pieces, until all of the boxes opened at once from their fronts like a door.

The party collectively gasped at the sight of The Judge. He was a hulking, blue man with a face wrinkled like a vampiric demon and several rust-colored horns emitting from the top of his bald head, black armour draped over his monstrous form. His eyes were completely black. No iris. No black. Just darkness.

Drusilla clasped her hands together. "He's perfect, my darling. Just what I wanted."

He lurched forward and took his first, lumbering steps out of the prison of boxes with complete indifference on his demonic face. As Drusilla began to step towards him, Spike gently but firmly gripped her wrist.

"I'd let our guest make the first move, dear," he said.

"You..." the Judge started to say in an unearthly, booming voice, pointing towards Spike and Drusilla.

Spike rolled forward in his wheelchair and smiled. "What's that, mate?"

"You two stink of humanity. You share affection. Jealousy."

"Yeah, what of it? Need I remind you that we're the ones who brought you here?"

"I have no alliances."

"Right, then. You want to go back in the little boxes?"

The Judge quietly pursed his lips in thought. "You may live. You will help me serve my purpose."

Spike grinned. "Works for me."

Drusilla smiled up at the Judge with adoration. "Would you like a party favor?"

The Judge nodded and gazed over Drusilla's head at the quivering party guests, his eyes landing on a small, bespectacled man.

"That one," he said, pointing at Dalton, "He is full of feeling. He reads. Bring him to me."

"Bring him?" Spike questioned, "I thought you could just... zap people."

"My full powers will return in time. Until then, I need contact."

Two of Spike's brutish minions gripped Dalton by the arms and dragged him to the Judge, pleading and struggling. 

"Please! Please, let me go! Let me live! Please, don't-"

The Judge raised his hand. "Silence."

Dalton trembled uncontrollably as the Judge put his blue hand on the vampire's neck. Dalton began to smoulder until he blackened and crumbled, flames sparking out of his eye sockets before he turned to dusty white ash. The crowd was silent until Drusilla began to clap and jump up and down, an ecstatic smile plastered on her pale face.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

xxx

Buffy and Santana creeped along the upper deck of the factory's balcony, looking over the edge at the macabre party. Spike and Drusilla were nowhere in sight. Buffy put her fingers lightly on the steel border over the balcony and snuck a peek at Santana, who was literally holding her breath and staring over the factory like a watchful hawk.

"Oh my God," Santana breathed, and Buffy followed her gaze across the factory. A blue beast clad in armour strode across the room, flanked by Spike and Drusilla.

"Is that-?"

"It has to be," nodded Santana, "The Judge."

The Judge stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tensing.

"What is it?" Drusilla asked innocently.

The Judge didn't reply, but slowly looked up, his eerie eyes settling on Buffy and Santana. Santana grabbed Buffy's wrist and said, "We have to get out of here."

Quickly, they spun around to see two vampires closing in on the entry the girls had come in through. It didn't take long for Spike's bounty of minions to overpower them and drag them down to the party where the Judge was staring at them with intense hatred and Spike and Drusilla were smiling giddily.

"Well, well. Look what we have here. Party crashers," Spike grinned.

"I'm sure our invitations just got lost in the mail. Valentine's Day. Some empty ghetto-ass factory. Bring Your Own Blood," smirked Santana.

Drusilla walked close in her swaying black dress and gently put one dark, long fingernail on Santana's cheek. "I had a dream you would come. Happy birthday, pet. You're all grown up now."

Santana flinched. "Leave her alone!" shouted Buffy.

"Yeah, that'll work, slayer," Spike quipped wryly, "Noe say pretty please."

"The slayer," said the Judge, setting his sights on Buffy.

"Chilling, isn't it?" Drusilla said dreamily, "So full of good intention."

Santana twisted and lunged forward, breaking free from the minions and quickly stepping in front of Buffy, who was still held back by her captors.

"Take me," she said quickly, "Take me instead of her."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You don't get it, love. There is no instead. There is first and second."

"And if you go first, you don't get to watch the slayer die," smiled Drusilla.

The minions gripped Santana again and yanked her away despite her protests. Buffy struggled against the grips of the vampires holding her as the Judge neared, extending his large hand. Buffy swung forward and kicked high, hitting the Judge's chest with the bottom of her shoe.

"Buffy, no!" Santana cried.

As the Judge stumbled back, Buffy gasped and trembled. Santana clenched her jaw and wrenched free of the vampire,s sprinting through the crowd and jumping over old wooden tables and to the stack of wood and iron boxes that the Judge come out of. She leapt behind them and pushed the pile forward, the Judge and the vampires jumping out of the way of the loud crash.

Buffy's head spun and in the confusion of the spectacle, she slipped out of the minions' grasps and towards Santana.

"This way!" Santana yelled, slipping her arm around Buffy and hauling the girl off to a dark exit in the corner.

"Stop them!" they heard Drusilla calling as they jumped down through a sewer tunnel. They heard the beat of rain beyond the tunnel and slipped into a dark, damp alcove, letting Spike and Drusilla's minions run past them without being found.

They stood in that spot for a few minutes in absolute silence before negotiating their way out of the dark sewers and into the rain at the edge of town.

"I think we lost them," said Buffy, rain drops collecting in her hair.

Santana eyed a cut on Buffy's arm, bright blood dribbling out of it and washing away in the rain, smearing on her skin. "Come on. Angel's apartment is close. You have to get inside."

They made their way to Angel's basement apartment, using the key he left under the dark doormat to get in.

"You look like a ghost, slayer," said Santana, closing the door behind her and turning on a few lights.

"Cold," she shivered.

Santana moved to Angel's wardrobe and pulled out one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweats. "Put these on," she said, handing the clothes to Buffy, "Then get under the covers."

She nodded to Angel's unmade bed in the corner of the small studio.

"Okay," Buffy groaned, pulling her damp t-shirt off and wincing.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just got a cut or something."

"Let me see," Santana said tenderly and led her to the edge of the bed.

Santana dabbed the blood off of her arm and inspected the cut as Buffy shyly held Angel's crumpled t-shirt up to herself.

"It's fine. It already closed, so..."

Buffy nodded, her hair damp and clinging to the back of her neck. She looked at Santana, vulnerability across her whole face.

"You almost went away today," she said quietly.

"I know," Santana said simply, looking down at the carpet.

"Look at me," Buffy pleaded.

Santana obliged, looking up at her with pain deep in her face. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Buffy... I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop."

Buffy frowned deeply. "I know."

"It hurts. You have no idea... I can't stay here."

"You can. Please. Stay here."

"Buffy," Santana groaned, and stood up, pacing the room, "You don't get it. I _can't_. I need to escape this, this... _bullshit_."

Buffy flinched. "What do you mean?"

"You blondes act so innocent, but you're usually the source of my pain. It took me years to get over Brittany and we never even dated. Quinn is both my best friend and the bane of my existence. And you. Buffy, you are everything I want. It took me way too long to realize it, too."

"Why does that have to be a bad thing?"

"Because, Buffy. You are the one. And I am not."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "Who says you can't be the one?" 

"The universe. For one thing, as a species, we are supposed to be mortal enemies. For another... You deserve better."

"I think I can choose what I deserve."

"You can. Of course you can. So if you have a choice, don't choose me."

"How can you say that?"

"Where is this supposed to go, Buffy? What life are we supposed to live? In a hundred years, everyone I know will be dead and I will be here. Sixteen years old. That's not fair to you."

"You think any of this is fair?" Buffy asked incredulously, "None of this is fair, Santana. It's not fair that we can't control who we fall in love with. It's not fair that we get torn apart all the time. _Life _is not fair."

"Yeah, I think I've heard that before."

"Stop," Buffy shook her head, "Listen to me. I brought Sam to your party tonight. As my date."

"I got that. Loud and clear."

"Just listen. Ever since you told me you loved me I've been so confused, wondering what he means to me and what you mean to me."

Santana frowned. "And?"

Buffy sighed, staring up at Santana through her fair eyelashes. "And Sam... is amazing. He is kind and noble and he loves me _so _much. And today, he gave some news. Some news that let me know that I had a choice. Between him and... and not being with him. And when he said that, something clicked. I stopped daydreaming and I knew how I felt. And maybe you won't like it and maybe... maybe even I wish it didn't have to be like this... But it does."

Santana folded her arms and braced herself. "You already made a choice," Santana realized with bitter disappointment.

"No."

"No?"

"I realized that when it comes to love, you don't get to choose. There was no choice. There was only you."

Santana opened her mouth, surprised. "Me?"

Buffy smiled wryly. "It was always you."

She set aside Angel's t-shirt and walked over in her white bra. She put her cold, damp hands on either side of Santana's face and kissed her gently. Santana closed her eyes and breathed in Buffy's beautiful scent as they parted.

"You... Maybe we shouldn't-"

"Don't," Buffy whispered, "Just kiss me."

Santana obeyed like she had no free will and kissed Buffy with more fervor this time, running her hands over the slayer's bare waist, over her shoulders and through her hair. They clumsily stumbled to the bed, never breaking contact and fell onto the sheets, entangled in each other.


	57. The Young and the Soulless

Santana's fingers spidered over the bare, pale skin on Buffy's back, tracing spirals around her shoulder blades and spine as the blonde lay on her stomach, Angel's course sheets wrapped around her waist. Santana rhythmically mumbled 'Tan Enamorados' just to keep herself under control. Buffy was so perfectly still that she may have been asleep, the cut on her arm already healed. Santana leaned down and gently kissed her shoulder, feeling the tickle of the the ends of her hair and the subtle smell of rain and sweat and vanilla exfoliator. She didn't ever want to leave this near-perfect place. This was different from the nights she'd spent with Brittany. This was more honest. She wanted Buffy more than she could ever imagine. Needed her. She wondered if Buffy needed her back.

"What was that song?" she asked sleepily, her pale eyelids closed.

Santana smirked. "Just some cheesy old song Sofia listens to."

"It's nice," Buffy smiled, dream-like.

Santana sat up and threw her shirt over her head. "I should go."

Buffy jerked her head up and spun around, holding the sheets over her body. "Go where?"

"Don't worry. I'm coming back. It's just that we left our phones at The Bronze and I think the others might be starting to get worried."

"Oh," Buffy sighed, relieved, "I'll come with you."

"You should get some rest."

"Here?"

"Well, maybe go home when the sun comes up. We've already defiled Angel's apartment enough."

Buffy smirked and watched Santana pull her dark denim jeans on.

"I'll come over in a couple hours, okay?"

"Wait," Buffy stammered, sitting up in bed with white sheets pooled around her, "Aren't we going to talk about this?"

Santana blinked at the blonde. "Talk about... what?"

Buffy looked slightly pained. "This isn't something I do often. In fact, this is something I do never."

Santana sighed, smiling slightly. "I get that."

"Do you? It's not that this is the first I've been with a girl, it's the first time I've been with _anyone_, and-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Santana said quickly, approaching Buffy and putting her hands around the girl's warm face, "Don't go to the rambly place, okay? Everything's fine. You and I are fine. Give me an hour, tops. If you're not already there, I'll be waiting at your bedroom window. Okay?"

Buffy arched her brows and nodded, though she wanted to clasp Santana's wrists and keep her there. "Hurry," she said quietly.

Santana nodded and rushed away, throwing her leather jacket over her arm. She had leapt up the first step on the staircase to the ground floor of Angel's apartment building when she heard the door opening again behind her. She spun around to see Buffy rushing out in an over-sized t-shirt.

"Buffy-"

"I love you," she blurted out, a giddy, girlish smile on her flushed face.

Santana stared down at her, a warm feeling bubbling in her unbeating heart. "I love you, too, slayer," she said, and leaned over to plant a kiss on Buffy's pink lips.

She bounded up the remainder of the steps with a blithe smile on her face. Something in her felt perfectly content. More than content, she thought, as she recalled every touch and facet of Buffy's body. Buffy, the first person who was ever really hers, who belonged to Santana and who Santana belonged to. She felt brilliant on the most transcendent level that even as she walked outside in the heavy rain, in the electric blue dark before dawn, she felt perfect.

xxx

Kurt's head was limp against the headrest of his passenger seat, bobbing slightly up and down at every hard bump in the road. Kurt was close to unconsciousness and Blaine, hyped up on caffeine and excitement, had offered to drive them both to the Anderson residence to get some shut eye before the sun came up. There was something attractive about Blaine driving Kurt's banged-up Chevy, his hand gripping the wide, leather steering wheel.

"Do you think Buffy and Santana are okay?" he asked, driving into Akron with his dark eyebrows knitted in worry.

Kurt smiled sympathetically, his eyelids getting heavy. "I'm sure they're okay. Besides, we're no good to them as corpses, so we may as well get a couple hours of sleep."

Blaine frowned deeply, both hands gripping the steering wheel. "There's something I want to tell you, but I'm not sure I should."

"Why not?" Kurt yawned.

"It's something Buffy told me in confidence."

Kurt opened his eyes a peep and side-eyed his boyfriend. "Is it about a certain case of confused sexuality?"

Blaine widened his eyes and stole a quick glance at Kurt. "Well, yeah..."

"Don't think I haven't felt the fog of sexual tension surrounding those two."

Blaine exhaled a sigh of relief. "So what do you think?"

"I personally wouldn't have ever expected Buffy to appear on my gaydar, but there's no denying she has a thing for our favorite neighborhood vampire."

"I don't know. I like Angel."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"I mean, just... if we're picking a favorite... I like Angel..."

Kurt paused a moment before a smile broke out on his face. "Okay, _one _of our favorite neighborhood vampires... There's something I should tell you, too."

"What is it?"

"Earlier tonight, before you showed up at The Bronze, I touched Quinn and... something weird happened."

"Weird how?"

"I think I might've read her mind."

Blaine's eyes widened. "You _did_?!" he gasped, thoroughly impressed, "What was it like?"

"Muddled," Kurt replied, "It was only for a second, but it sounded like dozens of voices talking over each other and one big image of... Rachel Berry."

"So Quinn was thinking about Rachel?"

"I don't know. I mean, I stopped touching her hand and it all went away. It was only there for a second but it was really unnerving. To have a new slew of thoughts overriding my own. Especially thoughts as harsh and jaded as Quinn Fabray's. The only nice thing in there was Rachel's face and even that was fogged with anxiety."

"That's so bizarre..." Blaine shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road, "Does this mean your abilities are developing? I mean, first it was only prophetic dreams. Now it's waking visions and clairvoyance and now mind reading-"

Blaine jerked and swerved the car as Kurt slumped forward, his seatbelt holding him upright as his eyes remained open and still. Blaine pulled over to the side of the road, just as Kurt gasped, waking from his vision.

"What is it?" Blaine asked urgently.

"Santana."

xxx

The rusty squeak of Spike's wheelchair was like an ominous theme-tune to his henchmen, as he rolled alongside his stunningly still line of minions, a frown deepened on his time-hardened, though forever-youthful, face.

"Soon as it gets dark, I want you to patrol the streets," he ordered, not looking at any of them in the face, "Plus, two men on the door and in the tunnels at all times. I don't want anymore surprises."

They nodded and shuffled out obediently, no longer obscuring Spike's view of Drusilla, who was laying face up on one of the wooden tables, the edges of her fluttery dress flowing off of the sides.

"Are we feeling better then?" he asked as he wheeled himself towards her.

"I'm naming the stars," she said quietly.

"Can't see the stars, love. That's the ceiling," he said, quickly glancing at the water-damaged surface that was metres above them, "Also, it's daytime."

Drusilla giggled to herself, her eyes steady above them. "I can see them, but I've named them all the same name and there's a terrible confusion. I think there may be a duel."

"Do you see any further? Anything about the slayer or her damned sidekick?"

"Well..." interrupted a perky voice from behind them.

Spike whipped his head around and Drusilla let her eyes fall away from the ceiling to see Santana saunter out of the shadows, looking like she'd dressed up for the party, in a black bustier and slick red lipstick.

"She moves to New York and tries to fulfill that big Broadway dream," she continued, a snarky smile etched on her face, "It's tough going, but one day she's working in the chorus when the big star twists her ankle!"

"You," Spike frowned coldly.

"Still having trouble guarding your perimeter, Spike? The boys downstairs are going to hear about this, that's for sure. I mean, really, the help can never get anything right."

"You just don't give up, do you? The slayer and her fanclub just keep rolling with the punches."

Santana smiled wide, looking like she wanted to laugh. "As long as there is injustice in the world," she said dramatically, "Just look over your shoulder and the slayerettes will be there."

Spike smirked. "Love? Look over _your _shoulder."

Santana turned to see the Judge towering over her. He dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder, eliciting a fearful gasp.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Spike grinned.

Santana turned back to Spike, flicking her dark hair over one shoulder. "Itches a little."

Spike furrowed his brow and glared at the Judge. "Don't just stand there! Burn her!"

The Judge just kept his hand on Santana's shoulder, looking vaguely bothered.

"Gee, maybe he's broken," Santana smirked.

"What the Hell is going on?!" demanded Spike.

Drusilla slid off of the table, her eyelids stretching wide. "Oh my..."

"I cannot burn this one," the Judge's voice rumbled, "She is clean."

"Clean?" Spike's eyebrow quirked upwards, "You mean she's-"

"There is no humanity in her."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," she said, resting her hands on her hips.

"Now, now," Spike said under his breath, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward in his chair, "Angel's girlfriend's gone to the dark side."

"Call me Snix," she smoldered, "And I'm no-one's girlfriend."

Drusilla walked forward, holding her arms out like she was greeting the prodigal son.

"I had a dream you would come," she said, her smile just short of celestial, "Happy birthday, pet. You're all grown up now."

xxx

Buffy had made it back to her house before the sun came up and found with a great amount of disappointment that Santana wasn't waiting for her at the window. Despite this, exhaustion had began to overcome her. Buffy curled up in bed with thoughts of her newfound love to warm her and had successfully gotten a single solid hour of sleep. Her eyelids had dropped like anvils and the pit of her stomach bubbled happily as she dreamed of wrapping herself around Santana's icy cold skin.

She'd then been rudely awakened by her cellphone. She'd let it ring out the first time, but the second time she sat up and snatched the phone off of her nightstand, sleepily hoping it was Santana. She blinked at the contact that was still relentlessly calling. Buffy furrowed her brow and answered the call.

"Will?" she answered, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Buffy! Is Santana with you?" he asked urgently.

Buffy frowned. "...No. Why? What's wrong?"

She heard him sigh through the phone. "You need to come over, as soon as possible."

"Come over...?" Buffy squeezed the bridge of her nose, confused and exhausted.

"To my apartment! Quickly. We're... well... Kurt thinks something may have happened to Santana."

Buffy grimaced, turning cold. "I'll be there in five."

She tossed her phone aside and got dressed, sneaking back out through her window, once again without waking her mother. She walked briskly - practically ran - to Will's apartment complex, fear rippling through her body and itching to have her questions asked so that they wouldn't be plaguing her tired mind with worry. What could possibly have happened to Santana since she'd seen her just a few hours ago? Was it the Judge? Something else?

She pounded on Will's apartment door with a clenched fist. He answered, worry etched all over his face.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, storming in past him with her fists clenched.

She stopped at the archway to his living room, surprised to see Kurt and Blaine sitting together on the couch with nervous expressions on their faces, Sofia trembling on an armchair with tears stuck behind her red rimmed eyes and Quinn pacing around the room, her hands on the hips of her preppy skirt.

Buffy stared at Sofia, who looked terribly distraught. "What... What happened?" she asked, her voice surprisingly timid now that she was under the distressed gazes of the others.

Quinn locked eyes with Buffy, looking severe. "When did you see Santana last?" she demanded.

Buffy opened her mouth, struggling to get the words out. "We got caught by Spike's minions, b-but we escaped. We were wet and my arm was cut so we went to Angel's, and..." a ball formed in Buffy's throat, "She told me to go home and get some rest while she left to find him. D-Did she find him? Angel?"

Quinn tensed and started pacing again, averting her gaze back to the carpeted floor. "No."

"He's out looking for her," said Blaine, as if that was supposed to give Buffy some comfort.

Buffy's eyes swivelled between Kurt and Blaine. "Why? What _happened_?"

"I had a vision," Kurt said, looking almost guilty, "Or a... something."

"_And_?!"

"Santana lost her soul," Kurt blurted out.

Buffy's mouth fell open. Will was beside her now, looking at her with concern in his eyes. Sofia whimpered and resumed crying into a handkerchief.

"In your vision?" Buffy asked, her eyes wide.

"No," Kurt sighed, "Really. Somehow... it's gone."

Buffy pursed her lips, frustrated. "But your visions tell the _future_, Kurt. This is now. We can save her before it's too late-"

Kurt sighed. "No-"

"We _can_. Have you seen her since your vision?"

"No, but-"

"So you don't _know_," said Buffy, sounding hysterical, "You just think."

"Some things I just know, Buffy," Kurt said solemnly, "I knew that Spike and Drusilla were still alive. I was right."

"You're not right about this! You can't be! I was with her-"

Buffy cut herself off, memories overwhelming her too soon after the fact. A horrid possibility had occurred to her.

"How?" she asked, "How could that happen?"

"We think it could be the Judge," Will said softly, "He burns the humanity out of people."

"But that _kills _people," Buffy spluttered.

"Maybe with Santana it was less literal. Maybe it burned out her soul and left her body unscathed."

Buffy furrowed her brow at the carpet. She knew that wasn't it. In the pit of her stomach, she knew what it really was.

"Oh God..." she sighed under her breath, sobs threatening to choke her.

She turned on her heels and ran through the apartment to the bathroom at the end of the hall, slamming the door behind her and sinking to the cold, grainy tiles. She held one hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs and one over her eyes to catch her hot tears. God, it was _her_, wasn't it? She'd shared one perfect night with Santana and it had been too much. And now everything was over. They were over before they'd even gotten a chance to start.

A small knock came at the door. Buffy sniffed and angrily wiped tears off of her face to stand and pull the door open a crack, to see Quinn on the other side. She peered inside with curious eyes that asked if she could come in, and Buffy complied by moving away from the door and taking a seat at the edge of the porcelain bathtub. Quinn closed the door behind him, looking unbelievably poised. Buffy wondered how she was crying at a time like this. Her face was void of emotion. Not even pity or concern sullied her elegant features as she looked down at Buffy's tear-streaked face..

"Do you love her?" she asked, her tone hushed and her voice indifferent.

Buffy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Did you let her know that?"

Buffy nodded, her eyes brimming back up with warm, salty tears. "It's all my fault."

Quinn looked down as if she understood, but didn't say anything. "She really loved you."

Buffy sniffed, staring up at the other blonde. "She loved you, too."

"This is Terri. She did this. This is her fault."

"Huh?"

"She's the one who attached a curse to Santana's soul. The airhead doesn't even know how to reverse it. There is some magic even vengeance demons shouldn't dabble with."

Buffy sniffed, her tears coming to a halt, somewhat inspired by Quinn's poise. "What are we going to do?"

Quinn pursed her lips. "You and the others will figure something out."

"What about you?"

Quinn sighed, sounding resigned. "I'll be trying to find someone who can help."

xxx

"I don't think you realize what it is that you're asking."

Quinn clenched her pink fists at Jesse's insolence. "I know exactly what I'm asking."

Jesse tightened his jaw and crossed his legs on the den couch, glancing out of the floor to ceiling window, north of his parents' house. His mother was at some charity auction and his father was working, as always. Despite having loaded himself with caffeine all night, he'd returned home in an attempt to rest. He didn't appreciate Quinn storming into his home, bombarding him with insane new information and even crazier proposals.

"This plan you have is extremely problematic-"

"It's worth a try," said Quinn, staring at him with piercing, probing green eyes.

Jesse frowned. "Quinn... You don't understand-"

"I don't _care_, Jesse! Whatever pathetic, awkward, Mommy-issue driven sexual tension bullshit you have with Shelby Corcoran is unbelievably irrelevant. I _need _her help."

"Quinn," Jesse sighed, "Even if I called her... even if she didn't refuse point blank and even if she drops everything and comes to Lima, what makes you think she'll even have the capabilities, the power, to do something of this magnitude?"

"_You _said she was the most powerful wiccan you'd ever met."

"Powerful, yes, but not omnipotent. She's not God, Quinn. She can't alter life and death."

"I'm not asking for a resurrection-"

"Aren't you? Returning a soul to a dead body? I think that's exactly what you're asking for."

"No," Quinn shook her head, "Resurrection would be making Santana human again. This is... returning what is rightfully hers. Her soul is floating in limbo right now, waiting for its fate to be sealed. Either Santana dies and her soul is banished to Hell, or we _return _the soul and everything will be okay."

"You're too close to the situation, Quinn. You don't see the plethora of things that could go monumentally wrong."

"No, you know what I think? I think you're so opposed to helping Santana because you don't want to make one goddamn awkward phone call. You're so obsessed with your pride and your sense of control that you don't mind if my best friend's life hangs in the balance."

Jesse pursed his lips and lowered his chin, giving Quinn a brief glare from under his thick eyelashes. Quinn leaned forward, a desperate, pleading look in her eyes.

"Please, Jesse," she begged, clasping her hands together, "I can't do something like this on my own. I need your help."

Jesse sighed and gave his friend a blank look. "I'll make the call."

Quinn smiled, inhaling deeply. "Thank you, Jesse."

"If she refuses, or if this doesn't work... I warned you, alright? These are heavy magicks, Quinn."

"I know," Quinn said quietly, "I know."

xxx

The scoobies were in full research mode on Mr. Schuester's dining room table; Kurt, Blaine, Tina, Mike and Rachel leaning over books and laptops, searching for any information on the Judge that they could get their hands on.

"I just wished you'd told me last night what was going on," sniffed Rachel.

"Rachel, not now," frowned Tina, "I told you everything there is to know."

Rachel frowned, her eyes steady on a book of ancient demonology. "Still. You could've called me sooner. It's not like I would have refused to offer my services just because Santana and I are at odds. Look, I'm helping right now. If not for her, than for Sofia... and Quinn."

"Now isn't the time," said Kurt, his eyes darting between Rachel and Tina, "All our energy has to go into helping Santana. If we want to do that, we've got to take down the Judge. I'm certain he's behind this.

"Certain, as in, clairvoyant certainty?" asked Mike.

"No," frowned Kurt, "Certain as in, I'm certain Marion Cotillard is going to win Best Actress at this year's Oscars."

"Was that supposed to clear it up for me?"

"Either way, the Judge needs to be stopped," said Tina, staring down at a book with frustration apparent on her face.

"Right," Mike nodded, "It's just, information about this guy is all of the place, in a bad way. Where do we even stand?"

"On a really boring pile of books that all say the exact same thing," Kurt grumbled.

Tina sighed in agreement. "No weapon forged," she recited.

"It took an army," Rachel shook her head.

"Yeah, well, where is an army when you need one?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Blaine raised his head from the book he'd been studying and looked at his boyfriend with a curious expression.

"What?" Kurt probed.

Blaine sat up straight, warming his hands on his flannel pants. "No weapon _forged_."

"Yeah," Kurt raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. 

"I might have a plan," said Blaine.

"A plan?" Tina looked skeptical.

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, both nervous and excited, "I'm going to need to take Rachel."

Rachel pursed her lips. "Me?"

Blaine nodded. "And we'll need a ride."

"Okay... We can take my car," offered Kurt.

"We might need something bigger."

The scoobies shared a curious look. "Well, I could use my parents' van," said Tina.

"Great. Okay."

"Care to tell us what exactly this plan of yours is that I'm apart of?" asked Rachel.

"No," Blaine said bluntly.

"Why not?"

"You just need to trust me," Blaine asked boldly, "And... wear something cute... er."

Standing over the kitchen sink and staring out the window, Will nervously chewed his bottom lip. Quinn had left in a hurry and he hoped she hadn't gone to do anything reckless. Sofia was still sniffling in his armchair in the living room and Buffy was hidden away in the bathroom. She was so much more distressed than he'd expected her to be and it worried him, and made him think there was something he was missing.

He tensed a little, his thoughts scrambling away into the recesses of his mind as he felt Angel approaching from behind.

"I don't know what to do about Buffy," Will said as he turned to look at the tall, broad-shouldered vampire.

"Assuming there's no attack tonight, we should leave her be," said Angel.

"I had no idea Santana meant so much to her. I guess I haven't been entirely present lately."

"They mean alot to each other," said Angel, looking down at the floor, his eyes reflecting his thoughts that were elsewhere, "Santana means alot to me, as well. That's why we have to help her. She's left with no conscience, no inhibitions. The urge to slaughter is only a whim away for her."

"How are we supposed to help? Terri won't restore her soul, curse or not. And turning Santana into a human... It's virtually impossible."

"We could talk to someone else."

"Who?"

"The person who gave me _my _curse."

Will wrinkled his nose in confusion. "That was over a century ago-"

"But they have descendants."

"Nearby?"

"Fort Wayne," Angel replied.

Will clenched his jaw. "It's worth a try."

"I'm coming with you."

Both men turned to see Buffy standing before them behind the island counter, her eyes still slightly bloodshot though her face was dried of any residual tears.

"Are you sure?" asked Will.

"If I stay here any longer, I'm going to lose my mind," Buffy shook her head, "I need to be out, finding a way to help Santana."

"Buffy," started Angel, "If we happen to run into Santana, you won't like what you see. She won't be the same."

"I know that," Buffy sighed, "And I know that there's a chance... a probability, that she'll want to kill me."

Angel solemnly shook his head. "She won't kill you. I know how her mind works. A lot like mine, and I remember exactly what I was like when I was without a soul. If Santana gets the chance, she won't kill you. She'll torture you."

xxx

"You _don't _want to kill her? I know you never really got a chance to be in the game, love, but that's what we _do_."

Santana laid herself out lounge-style on one of the wood tables and curled her lip up at her surroundings. "A lot of what you people do is pretty damn ghetto, if you ask me. Seriously, this is your idea of a birthday celebration? What, Vegas not good enough? You gotta get your gutter-rat on? This place smells like my abuela's sock drawer."

"You don't want to kill her, do you?" Drusilla smiled, leaning against the table Santana was lying on, her long, skinny fingers gripping at the edges, "You want to hurt her. Hurt her like Angel hurt me."

Santana gave Drusilla a fond smile. "You are just a peach, are you? I definitely understand what Angel saw in you."

Drusilla's smile was ecstatic.

"She'd better not get in our way," Spike frowned at Santana, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't worry about it," Santana said glibly, still giving Drusilla a winning smile.

"I do."

"Listen," Santana sighed, resting her head on one shoulder, "I don't think you're really grasping the concept, Billy Idol, that you can't just _kill _the slayer. You tried and look at you know. You're a crippled failure. Scary fangs and a villainous British accent aren't going to cut it. To kill her... you have to love her."


	58. The Judge

**a/n: This chapter's a bit short but I thought you'd prefer something small to nothing at all. Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but things have been crazy busy. I hope everybody likes this chapter and reviews :) Thank you**

"Well, she was not happy to hear from me," said Jesse, strolling into the den with his cellphone slack in one hand.

Quinn sat up on the uncomfortably square couch, clutching at one corner of a paisley velvet throw pillow. "What did she say?"

"That she has no idea how I got this number but I'd better stay away from her."

"That's... not what I meant," she said, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile, "What happened between the two of you, anyways?"

Jesse took a seat on the other end of the couch, facing the St. James's impressive marble fireplace, and pursed his lips in thought. "It's a long, unpleasant story that I don't quite understand. The details aren't important. Either way, Shelby made her choice. Motherhood and a legacy... one that doesn't include me."

"What does that mean? A legacy?" asked Quinn, wondering how much would be put on her daughter's shoulders. 

"Shelby doesn't want all she worked for to be in vain. She wants her power to live on when she's gone. She was my mentor for so long that I thought _I _could be her legacy... But apparently not."

"Why?" asked Quinn.

"She wanted it to be someone she could teach from the beginning. Someone who could be far more powerful than her one day."

"And she thinks Beth will be a powerful witch?"

"She's your daughter, isn't she?"

Quinn looked down at her lap. "So will she help us?"

"On certain conditions."

Quinn looked back up, surprised and hopeful. "What conditions?"

"She needs someone to help her with Beth while she's here," said Jesse, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

Quinn pursed her lips. "...Me?"

"No, she needs you. In fact, she needs all the power she can get. This kind of thing won't be easy. She'll need a concentration of otherworldly energy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that for her spell to work, she'll need us to be there. Maybe more..."

"Who else?"

"...Rachel."

Quinn widened her eyes. "Rachel? You expect Rachel to help us?"

"What? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"Sure, there's a possibility she would do it for _me_, but not for _you_, Jesse, and sure as hell not for Shelby."

"Yes, okay, it's asking a lot, but all she has to do is be there. It's worth saving Santana for."

"She would never do it! And I would never ask her to!"

Jesse furrowed his brow. "Why?! What do you owe her?"

"Everything. I've been horrible to her, Jesse, since freshman year."

"So what? You were a bitchy cheerleader. You were protecting yourself. That's not you anymore, so stop acting like Rachel Berry is the ultimate victim. Why do you _care _about her so much?"

"Because I _love _her, Jesse!"

Jesse reeled back a little and widened his eyes, in both surprise and realization of something he should've noticed a long time ago. "...Oh," was all he said.

"Yeah," Quinn sighed, turning slightly red as she turned her gaze to the hardwood floor, "I'm not going to ask her to do anything. Not for me."

Jesse clasped his hands together. Quinn had turned away from him now, embarrassed, and he was glad, because it somehow made it easier to speak to her without her cold green eyes settled on him.

"She used to talk about you," he said.

Quinn wrinkled her eyebrows. "What?"

"When we were dating - well, sort of dating, briefly - she used to talk about you. Just mention things about you, like a song you sang in glee club or how much nicer you looked in your own clothes than in your cheerleading uniform."

"She did?"

"Yeah. I guess I thought it was odd that she'd bother to mention you. Sometimes it felt like she mentioned you more than any of her other friends; even Buffy. But, of course, I told myself that it was only because I knew you, and who you were, and what you were like when we were kids; that that was the only reason I seemed to notice. But now... maybe not."

Quinn looked back at Jesse. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if it's possible that someone like you could fall in love with someone like Rachel, then maybe it's not so far-fetched that those feelings could be reciprocated."

"And what if they are?" asked Quinn, shaking her head, "She deserves a lot better than me."

"Relationships aren't about who deserves each other, Quinn. If Rachel wants you and you want Rachel... then that's that."

"And I'm just supposed to use Rachel's feelings to get her to do things for me? I'm not going to manipulate her like that."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Rachel wants to help you and be there for you, but you won't let her because you have this vapid idea that she deserves someone more magnificent than you? Who do you want her to be with, Quinn? Someone who will never let her down, who will never tell a lie, who will always put her first? That's a fairytale, Quinn, that's not love. If it were, Buffy wouldn't have slept with Santana like you said. She would be in the arms of her faithful, blond boyfriend right now. Love isn't supposed to be painless."

Quinn sniffed. "And since when did you believe in love?"

Jesse shrugged. "I just want you to be happy, Lucy Q. You're the closest thing I have to a sister. You know, besides my actual sister."

xxx

"Blaine, _what _are we doing here?!" Rachel hissed, her whispered voice echoing through a dark hallway.

They'd driven to her house in Ben Chang's Volkswagen van so she could get changed into a butter yellow dress she used to wear on dates with Finn, still not understanding why Blaine needed her to look 'cute'. They then drove another fifteen minutes until they were inside the campus of OSU Lima, squeezing through an unlocked window to a lecture hall and clumsily navigating through the hallways in the dark.

"You'll see," had been Blaine's only reply throughout the night.

"_Blaine_!" Rachel hissed again, following the boy who'd thrown a sharp sweater-vest over his button-up shirt.

He confidently found his way to the end of a hallway near the dorms and inspected a generic framed floral print hanging on the wall, putting his fingers on the edges and feeling for a space. He lifted the picture like a cabinet lid and under it on the wall was a keypad with rubber number buttons glowing green. He put in a five digit code and the whole pad beeped and glowed red for less than a second.

"Blaine, what is this?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Just, act natural," Blaine wrinkled his brow, typing in another wrong code.

"Blaine-"

"Don't worry about it, Rachel," he said calmly, turning around to see a light had been turned on in the hallway behind them and a tall woman with curly brown hair was walking forward in a long, white lab coat and black, pointy-toed heels.

"Blaine Anderson?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, a slight smirk on her face.

Blaine gulped, starting to look nervous. "Professor Wright..."

"Call me Isabelle, Blaine," she said with a tired smile, folding her arms and briefly glancing at Rachel, "What are you doing here?"

"N-Nothing," he stammered, "We were just leaving. Sorry. Please don't tell my dad."

"Blaine, you know the campus is off limits after hours unless you're a student," she said, coyly, "What were you doing here?"

"Nothing," he said, side-eyeing Rachel, "Nothing, it's just... Well, I thought I'd show Rachel the base..."

Professor Wright raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

Blaine leaned in to Professor Wright and said in a stage whisper, "Cooper always brought girls down here. I just thought maybe I could impress Rachel like he impressed all his girlfriend's in high school... It's stupid, I know."

Professor Wright frowned sympathetically, glancing between Blaine and Rachel. "You know the underground facilities are expressly forbidden to civilians," she said, staring sternly at Blaine, "You have five minutes."

Blaine sighed with relief. "Really?! Thank you so much, Prof- Isabelle-"

"Just make it quick, Blaine. Stay away from the hostile cells."

"Of course," Blaine nodded eagerly.

Professor Wright stepped past him and stabbed the code into the keypad with her index finger. A panel of the wall slid away, revealing a closet-sized space almost entirely made of white tiles. Professor Wright stepped in and gingerly clasped her hands.

"Well, come on," she said.

Blaine led Rachel into the white elevator and Professor Wright spoke her name into a small, square speaker before they began to descend.

"Blaine," Rachel whispered, "Who is she?"

"Professor Wright," he whispered back.

"Yeah, but who _is _she?!"

"A professor."

"_Blaine_."

"What?"

"What _is _this?!"

The elevator doors opened and Rachel sharply inhaled. Professor Wright stepped out and Rachel followed her onto a metal balcony that overlooked an industrial space bigger than Rachel had ever seen, where men dressed in military attire briskly walked past each other and people in white lab coats conversed over clipboards and metal operation tables.

Professor Wright went back to the elevator and called to Blaine, "I'm heading home for the night. Five minutes, Anderson."

Blaine clasped his hands behind his back and looked over at Rachel. "This is the Initiative."

xxx

Buffy knocked loudly on the chipping green wood of Kurt's front door. She'd received a quick and frantic text message from Rachel, asking her to meet them there, saying that they had something for her. The door swung open and Burt Hummel was on the other side, frowning sternly under a navy baseball cap.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Hummel. Is Kurt here?"

"Yeah," Burt frowned, "He and the others are upstairs with... well, something they won't let me see."

"Oh, well-"

"I don't like that my son is keeping secrets from me, Buffy," said Burt, folding his arms over his chest, "And I know this has something to do with your... your..."

Buffy looked down at the wood of the front porch as Mr. Hummel searched for words.

"I know, it's because I'm... different. Look, Mr. Hummel, I don't like that you're son is keeping secrets from you, either. I don't like that he and his classmates are putting their lives on the line to help me. And I could tell you that I would end my friendship with Kurt, or that I would move away from Lima after graduation, but that wouldn't change anything. One thing I've learned in my life is that danger is everywhere, whether you're the Chosen One or not, and once you get a taste for it..." Buffy trailed off, "Kurt's never going to be happy with a normal, suburban, apple-pie life. He's meant for greater things."

Burt pursed his lips. "Those greater things could get him killed."

"Nothing lasts forever."

Burt laughed humorlessly. "You're a smart kid, Buffy. For the record, I never wanted you to end your friendship with Kurt or to leave Lima. But things are changing for Kurt. Big things. He has a boyfriend now and his mother's damn death trap of a car. And don't think I haven't noticed the headaches, the way he just knows things that he can't possibly know... He's becoming a different person. I just want to know that there's someone out there protecting him."

"That's why Kurt is so lucky, Mr. Hummel. He has a lot of people willing to protect him."

Burt nodded and stepped back from the door to let Buffy step inside. "You should head upstairs. They're waiting for you."

"Thanks, Mr. Hummel," Buffy nodded and walked briskly up the steps and to Kurt's closed bedroom door at the end of the hall.

She knocked on the door and heard Kurt call, "Who is it?"

"Buffy," she answered, wrinkling her brow.

Blaine opened the door a crack and peeked out at her.

"What are you guys doing?" asked Buffy, tiresome.

"Okay, come in," Blaine backed up and held the door open.

The whole gang was gathered in Kurt's small bedroom - Tina and Mike at the desk, Kurt standing by the window and Rachel and Blaine standing over the bed next to a huge wooden crate that was laid out on top of Kurt's bed-sheets.

"What's going on?" asked Buffy, closing the door behind her.

"We have a plan," Blaine said, folding his arms.

"A dangerous plan," said Rachel.

"They're the best kind. What's the plan for?"

"To kill the Judge," said Tina.

"Kill? Not maim, dismember and scatter? I thought it wasn't possible."

"It wasn't," Tina continued, "But then we realized... _no weapon forged_. Maybe they meant it literally. The Judge can't be killed by weapons forged by blacksmiths, but maybe he can be killed by a weapon made mechanically."

"What, like a gun?"

Blaine scoffed. "More than a gun." Blaine took a crowbar that had been resting at the end of Kurt's bed and held it out for Buffy to take. "Open it. It's for you."

Buffy took the crowbar and looked at Rachel, who was frowning with her arms folded. "Rach, what is it? You don't look like you're liking this plan."

Rachel sighed. "It's just... we're taking a huge risk for a plan that depends on wordplay! It's crazy. Doesn't anyone else think this is crazy?"

The others glanced at each other. Buffy smirked. "I think we've done crazier."

She approached the long wooden crate and stuck the crowbar into the side, pulling the lid off with a thud. Her breathing seemed to stop as she looked at what was inside.

"Whoa," she sighed, "Where did you get this?"

"My dad has a pretty high profile job," explained Blaine, "If I'm clever enough I can get access to a pretty impressive arsenal."

"And we all thought you were so innocent," Buffy's eyes twinkled at the object in the box, "Call Mr. Schuester. He'll take us to Spike's warehouse."

"Buffy," Kurt sighed, looking nervous, "What happened at Fort Wayne?"

The others looked to Buffy, remembering where she'd been with Mr. Schuester and Angel last night.

"We found the clansman," she said solemnly, tossing the lid back onto the crate.

"Well, what did he say?" asked Tina.

"We found him dead," Buffy frowned, "And... writing on the walls... in his blood."

"What did it say?" asked Rachel, barely audible.

"It doesn't matter," Buffy quickly shook his head, "But... I know what I have to do now."

"What do you have to do?"

Kurt frowned, realization setting in. "She has to kill Santana."

xxx

"I knew they would have cleared out," said Buffy, leaving through the entrance of the cleared-out warehouse, followed by Angel and the rest of the scoobies.

"And we have no idea where they would go?" asked Will.

"I don't know," Buffy shook her head and nervously eyed the orange sunset rippling through the sky.

"Somewhere crowded," said Angel, "The Judge is going to need plenty of bodies."

"The Bronze?" suggested Mike.

"Closed tonight," said Kurt, "Breadstix?"

"Breadstix closes at seven," Rachel huffed, "There aren't a lot of places to go in Lima. It's not like people are going to line up to die."

Tina raised an eyebrow. "Uh, guys? If I was going to line up, I know where I'd be."

xxx

Snix snaked through the entrance, with other people passing around her through the fake gold double-doors, Drusilla following closely behind her. The women smiled at each other as they let their surroundings envelope them. The putrid smell of artificial butter, hot-dog grease and sickly sweet diet sodas floated through the air, present, but not quite overpowering the thick scent of blood.

Drusilla closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose with a blissful smile, and Snix followed suit. The smell was intoxicating - a smell, a taste, she hadn't allowed herself to indulge in in a long time. Not just blood. _Life_.

"Nice and crowded," Snix smirked.

She had to snicker at the idiot humans walking around with cardboard boxes stuffed with popcorn and movie tickets tucked into their sweaty hands, too busy chatting or rushing off to their next screening to pay attention to the six foot demon following her and Dru. Other vampires - Spike's minions - followed them, blending into the crowd with their plain faces.

"Lock the exits, boys," ordered Snix, before turning to the Judge with a mischievous smile, "It's all yours."

The Judge strode forward, his eyes trailing over people who were crowded around a semicircular concession stand in the middle of the movie theatre. He raised his arms and grabbed the collars of two passing people at random. The people began to shake and tendrils of smoke burned off of their skin. The Judge frowned in concentration until a gasp was caught in his throat as an arrow shot through his shoulder and stuck into his blueish flesh.

His victims fell to the ground, weak, as the Judge gritted his teeth and slowly pulled the arrow out of his shoulder, quietly seething.

"Who dares...?" he began to say, before he spotted the slayer perched on the popcorn machine in the concession stand, a crossbow comfortable in her arms.

"I think that got his attention," she mumbled to herself.

"You are a fool," the Judge laughed, flicking the arrow away, "No weapon forged can harm me."

Buffy dropped the crossbow to the floor and leaned down. "That was then," she said, grunted as she hoisted a long, heavy red and white rocket launcher off of the floor and balanced it over her shoulder, "This is now."

Civilians started to scream and run out of the way, trampling over each other as they fled through the double doors. Snix grabbed Drusilla's pale hand and tried to pull her away as she realized what was about to happen, but Drusilla's feet were planted firmly on the maroon carpeted floors.

Her eyes widened and she screamed, "No!" as the Judge stared into the face of Buffy's rocket launcher, more confused than troubled.

"What does that do?" he asked with some semblance of innocence before Buffy fired.

The red rocket broke apart from its launcher and spiralled through the theatre, hitting the Judge and sending sparks of fire and debris through the air. Drusilla and Snix fell to the floor, hand in hand, after the shuddering impact. Drusilla sat up to see the Judge gone, and fire and rubble in his place.

She whimpered, on the verge of tears, balling her fists like a toddler. She stood and stormed off, followed by most of Spike's henchmen. Buffy climbed over the concession stand and tossed the rocket launcher to Blaine as the scoobies came out from behind the stand, all with weapons in their hands.

"Best present ever," she said to him.

"I knew you'd like it."

"Is he dead?" Tina asked nervously, a battleaxe in both hands.

Buffy looked around the theatre, her shoulders rigid. "Pick up the pieces," she ordered, "Keep them separate."

"Pieces?" Rachel frowned, "We're picking up pieces? Our job sucks."

Buffy kept her eyes peeled, and just as the rising smoke set off the sprinklers she saw a blur of black and red slipping past a few remaining, panicked civilians. Buffy sprinted after Snix, getting drenched with water. She turned into Theatre 7, running into the darkness as a fist collided with her face, sending her spinning to the ground.

Snix smirked and straddled Buffy on the ground, smiling viciously. "You know what was the worst part? Pretending I loved you. If I'd known how easily you'd give it up, I wouldn't have bothered."

Buffy jerked forward and head-butted Snix, who fell back and clattered to the floor. Buffy rose from the ground, frowning, her fury bottled in.

"That won't work. I know you're not Santana."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Doesn't matter. The point is, you made me the woman I am today," smiled Snix, standing and shaking dust off of her red mini-dress.

Buffy ran forward, about to throw a punch, but Snix caught her fist and pushed her behind a row of seats, only illuminated by a romantic comedy abandoned by its audience.

Snix laughed. "Don't give up so easily, killer. Come on, you know you want it."

Buffy gritted her teeth and ran forward, punching Snix in the jaw, kicking her in the abdomen and pushing her down to the ground with rage boiling in her blood. She lunged on top of her and started hitting her with everything she had. Snix fell back, powerless, her face cut and bloody. Buffy pulled a stake from the lining of her coat and raised it, ready to plunge. She hesitated as Snix half-opened her eyes, that were more brown than maroon these days.

Snix smirked, aggravatingly charming. "You can't do it. You can't kill me."

Buffy sighed and punched Snix one more time, eliciting a pained groan. "Give me time," she said solemnly, and leapt off of Snix, sprinting out of the theatre.

xxx

Will pulled his old Honda up in front of Buffy's house. Buffy sat in the passenger seat, staring at her house, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Go inside, watch a movie with her mom and pretend that everything was normal? This weekend, her life had changed. How was she supposed to act like it hadn't?

"It's not over. I guess you know that," said Will, avoiding her eyes. "She'll come after you, particularly. It's her profile. Angel knows it, too. She'll strike out at the things that made her most human."

"You must be so disappointed in me," she said, barely audible.

"No, I'm not."

"But this is all my fault."

"No, it's not..."

Buffy looked at him, close to tears, and he met her gaze.

"What? You want me to wag my finger and tell you that you were irresponsible. You were and I can, but... I believe you when you say that you fell in love with her. And I'm willing to bet she was in love with you, too. These coming months are going to be hard for everyone, but if you're looking for guilt, you're not going to get it from me. You'll have my support... and my respect."

Buffy said nothing, tears spilling down her cheeks. She curled up on the couch that night, watching an old musical she remembered from her childhood, a mug of cocoa steaming on the coffee table.

"Did I miss anything?" asked Joyce, taking a seat next to her daughter.

"Some singing and running around."

Joyce sighed with a smile and put her arm around Buffy. "I feel like I haven't seen you all weekend."

"I've been busy."

"Well, did you have fun at Santana's surprise party? What did she do?"

Buffy frowned."She got older."

Joyce stroked Buffy's hair, mild concern on her face. Buffy brought her legs up to the couch and hugged her knees, her eyelids fluttering shut as her mother ran her hands over her hair.

**Up next: House parties and werewolves...**


	59. The Party

"I'm so glad we're doing this. I mean, it's been a while."

Mike snaked his hands around Tina's waist and her fingers tangled through his hair.

"Well, it's kind of hard to find any alone time when our extra curricular activities are fighting the forces of evil," he said, pulling back and wiping purple lipstick off of his mouth.

Tina frowned and shuffled in the passenger seat of Mike's car, parked in a clearing by the woods. "It's just... I feel so guilty."

"Why?"

"After everything that's happened to Buffy, I should be there, letting her cry on my shoulder."

"You spend ninety percent of your time helping Buffy. You're not a bad friend for wanting to spend some time with your boyfriend."

"Yeah, while her now soulless girlfriend is running around murdering people. I feel so selfish."

"This is all pretty confusing," Mike nodded with a sigh, "I didn't even know Buffy and Santana liked each other like that. Sam is pretty broken up about it... Damn, now I know what you mean about feeling selfish."

"It shouldn't be like this, right? We shouldn't have to feel so bad about being happy and in love just because everybody else is struggling. I mean, I feel like I can never talk about you with my friends."

"Okay, I get Buffy, but isn't Rachel over Finn yet? It's been months and I like the big lug, but he wasn't that great a boyfriend."

"It's not the missing him that's bothering Rachel, it's the not being able to miss him because he's always _there_. He keeps calling and texting and trying to get back with her. The only thing he hasn't bothered to do is rejoin glee club. I mean, the girl needs to mourn," Tina sighed irritably, "Look at me! I can't stop talking about them and worrying about them! I have to stop letting my life be clouded by other people! I am not a sidekick! When I'm not babbling about poor Rachel I'm raving about all-powerful Buffy!"

"You don't babble," Mike pouted, "Sometimes you run-un. Occasionally you yammer-"

"Look at us. We've got your dad's car. It's just the two of us. There's a big full moon. It doesn't get any more romantic than this. Once in a while, you just have to tell me to shut up."

Mike smirked. "I don't think anyone else would ever believe that you'd ever need to be told to shut up. Obviously you can't stop thinking about this because it's important to you. But, yeah, it'd be nice to spend some time with you without having to worry about the rest of the scooby gang..."

Tina smiled and leaned in to kiss her boyfriend when she heard the faint sound of rustling in the woods. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard something."

Mike frowned. "Is Buffy sending some kind of distress signal that only you can hear?" he asked sarcastically.

The couple heard the booming scrape of metal being torn above them before they saw the swiping at them from above. They screamed and flattened themselves against the doors as the claw frantically tore at the roof of the car, trying to widen the hole. The claw retreated and some sort of wild animal stuck it's snout in, snarling angrily and staring with oddly human brown eyes.

"Get us out of here!" Tina screamed at Mike.

"Where are the keys?!"

Mike frantically felt around the floor of the car for a set of keys and victoriously jammed them into the ignition. Mike lurched the car forward, throwing the large animal off of the roof. He backed up and sped away into the night. Tina gasped for breath and looked at her boyfriend. "I told you I heard something."

xxx

Shelby was like an older Rachel, only more severe. Quinn had never gotten that good a look at her, especially after she found out she and Rachel were mother and daughter. It made perfect sense, though. Quinn watched her, her back arched as she leaned over the granite island counter, thick spellbooks laid out on the surface. Shelby was flying through them with a pencil in her hand, making notes and ripping out pages.

"Do you need something?" she asked without looking up.

Quinn had been hovering by the sink, not sure what to say or do. "Um, no... Do you?"

"Not yet," Shelby looked up and tried her best to give a warm smile, "I'm going to have to get through a lot of research before we get to anything serious. I'll let you know when I need you."

Quinn nodded. "Okay."

"If you like, you can go play with Beth for awhile."

"I think Sofia and Jesse have got it taken care of." Quinn turned her head, able to hear the faint cooing coming from the den. Who knew Jesse liked kids?

"I know it must be hard for you," said Shelby, twirling her pencil, "But it's less complicated when they're still young. You can still connect with her."

Quinn clenched her jaw. "I'm not sure I want to."

"Why's that?"

Quinn sighed. "I don't want to connect with her and then never see her again when you leave for Cleveland."

Shelby frowned. "Have you had a chance to talk to Rachel?"

Quinn looked down at the tiled floor, shiny under the morning sun. "Not yet."

"You don't think she'll agree to help me or Jesse."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"I don't have to."

"Well, not exactly. I think Rachel will agree to help me, but she won't like it. I don't want to do that to her."

"You're a good friend, Quinn."

"Thanks," Quinn flatly replied, "I have to get to school."

"Just remember that this is all for Santana. We need all the hands we can get."

Quinn nodded and left the room.

xxx

"And you're sure it was a werewolf?"

Buffy, Tina and Mike gathered around Mike's father's car, the metal roof shredded by what looked like a jagged claw.

"Six feet tall, claws, big old snout... Survey says: Werewolf," Mike nodded.

"Makes sense."

"It tried to bite us."

"The newspapers say that there were other attacks by a 'wild dog' in the area but so far it's only been animal carcasses, not _people_," said Tina.

"Was last night a full moon?" asked Buffy, "Or is that just a myth?"

"No, last night wasn't a full moon, but tonight is. If my studies are correct, werewolves transform three nights a month. The night before a full moon, the night of a full moon and the night after."

"It's a little worrying that your first thought after being attacked by a wild animal was to go home and study."

"Well, werewolves are one of the classics," Tina smiled, "It's pretty fascinating."

"I think you need a pet."

"Werewolves act on pure instinct, without conscience. They're predatory and aggressive-"

"In other words, your typical male."

"On behalf of my gender; hey!" said Mike.

"Our wolf-man _could _be a wolf-woman," said Tina.

"Either way, you're standard issue silver bullets should work," said Mike.

"No," Tina shook her head, "No bullets. This werewolf is still a human being every other day of the month. They might not even know about their... condition."

"This is reminding me a lot of my first case in Lima," Buffy frowned, "I never did solve that one. It still bugs me."

"You don't think that was a werewolf, was it?" asked Tina.

"Hopefully, because now that we know what it was, we can bring it back alive."

xxx

"Quinn!"

Quinn spun around in the crowded school hallways to Rachel's call and smiled at the girl as she rushed to her side in a pink babydoll tee, her brown hair bouncing at her shoulders. How much she really liked Rachel was still a secret, but it was freeing now that she had admitted it to herself and her best friends. Now, she didn't have to look at Rachel's white knee highs and try to make herself believe they were ugly rather than tragically adorable.

"How are you?" Rachel asked, sympathy in her brown eyes.

"I'm... fine. I mean, I'm not but... I'm trying to do all I can."

"Of course. I know how close you were to Santana and... I'm sorry you had to lose someone so important."

Quinn nodded, frowning sadly. Santana was her best friend and she wished she could be there to talk to. Her friendship with Jesse was beginning to improve, but he was nothing compared to having a sister you could laugh and bitch with.

"Well, about that. There's something I have to ask you-"

"There's something I have to ask you first!" Rachel smiled brightly, "My dads are leaving for their Rosie O'Donnell cruise this weekend, so I thought I'd do something I've never done before; throw a house party!"

Quinn wrinkled her brow. "Um... Don't you think it's kind of a bad time for a party?"

"Well, at first that's what I thought, but then I figured that's it's the perfect time for a party. Everyone's been so, understably, down lately. I just want to do something to cheer people up. So I invited everyone in glee club and I told Brittany to spread the word-"

"I don't think that's a good idea. Brittany knows a lot of people."

"The more the merrier. She needs it, too. I think she blames herself for what happened. The only problem is, I don't think Buffy's gonna come. There was a werewolf attack last night-"

"Wait, what?!"

"Yeah, a werewolf. Or, well, they don't know for sure that it's a werewolf. The newspapers have been reporting a wild animal."

"They have?"

"Yeah, and nobody's been harmed yet, but Buffy wants to patrol tonight and the party was kind of thought of with her in mind. Well, her and you."

Quinn smiled weakly. "Rachel, I... I'd love to come to your party."

Rachel balled her hands and grinned, ecstatic. "Great! Tonight at eight. The dress code is casual! Well, smart casual! You know what, just wear whatever you want, you look great in everything."

Quinn blushed and nodded. "Thanks, Rachel. I'll be there. Listen, I've got to go, um... Puck has my Biology notes and I need them back."

"Okay. Bye, Quinn," Rachel smiled and skipped off to her next class.

Quinn exhaled and shook her head. That perky pixie girl didn't realize at all how much she affected her. Quinn strode off, trying to stop her face from getting red and keeping her eyes peeled for a mohawk in a leather jacket. She spotted him at Lea Hamilton's locker, leaning over her with a flirty smile on his face.

Quinn strode over to the couple. "Beat it, Lea."

"But-"

"Bye."

"This is my locker-"

"Go!"

Lea Hamilton stormed off after giving Quinn a dirty look. "What was that, Fabray?!" asked Puck.

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

Quinn sighed. "There's something I have to tell you and I really don't want you to freak out."

"Come on, after everything I found out in the last couple days, you think I'm gonna freak out?"

"This is different. This is... personal."

Puck frowned. "Is this about you and Rachel?"

"What? No! How do you- Ugh, this is about you, Puck," Quinn leaned and said in a hushed tone, "I don't know if you know this, but there have been attacks lately, reportedly by a wild animal."

"And you think I did it?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows in surprise. "No. I mean... Wait, why would you think that?"

Puck sighed. "Look, Fabray, I _know_. You think you've been protecting me all this time, but I already know. I found out months ago."

Quinn gulped. "You know... what?"

"I know that I'm a werewolf."

Quinn shushed him and looked around at hovering bystanders. "You know?"

"Yeah. I also know that you should have told me a long time ago. I could have done something about it."

"So..."

"No, it wasn't me. I built a cage in my basement. Three nights a month, I sleep there and tell my mom and sister not to come down no matter what. I'm not an idiot, Blondie. I was gonna figure it out eventually."

Quinn frowned sheepishly. "So... there's another werewolf in Lima."

"Must be. Unless someone is sneaking me outta my cage and locking me back in in the morning, which I highly doubt because I probably would've killed 'em."

"Right. So I take it you won't be going to Rachel's house party tonight?"

"Berry's having a house party tonight?! Damn. I always miss the good stuff."

xxx

Will trudged through roots and patches of untended weeds, a duffle bag of weapons thrown over his shoulder. For every few trees there was a parked minivan containing two hormonal teenagers. Will wondered how a werewolf went unnoticed for this long as Buffy came into view, sprinting towards him through two parked Volvos.

"Anything?" he asked, hopeful, the early moonlight enough to let him see her face.

"Yes, and you won't believe it! Morgan Ru is over there making out with Azimio Adams but _he's _dating Dakota Bargis! And if she finds out..." Buffy trailed off as Will frowned, unamused, "Oh. Nothing. Not a werewolf in sight. You?"

"Nothing. Maybe we should ask some of these people..."

Buffy raised an eyebrow and looked back at the cars parked at a clearing in the distance. "Will, I'm pretty sure they haven't seen anything what with the windows being covered in _steam_."

"Right, right. Let's try this way."

Will and Buffy walked side by side and kept their eyes open wide for anything strange.

"So... How have you been?"

"What, since my girlfriend tried to kill me?"

"She was your girlfriend?"

"Not exactly. I mean, it was over before it began, really. I guess I'm... I'm struggling with it. I know I'm going to see her again and it's going to hurt-"

Buffy stopped, hearing a rustle through the bushes. She slowly turned her head, something catching her eye. She acted on impulse and lunged into the darkness, only for something to catch her foot. A net snapped up from the ground and lifted her into the air, suspending her from a tree. Will gasped as a man strode forward in a leather jacket and dark boots, a necklace of sharp canine teeth hanging from his neck. He raised a rifle at Buffy as she squirmed in the net.

"Will!" Buffy screamed.

The man wrinkled his brow in confusion and poked Buffy with the end of his rifle.

"Ow!" she exclaimed.

"Hey!" Will called and ran forward, but the man pointed his gun at him. Will stopped still and lifted his arms in surrender.

"Who are you?" demanded Will, "What are you doing here?"

"The name's Goolsby," the man smirked, "Dustin Goolsby. And I'm the one with gun, meaning I get to do the interviews."

"Before we make the introductions, could we do something about this 'me being in a net' thing?" asked Buffy.

Dustin pulled a knife from his soft leather belt and cut into the rope net. Buffy fell through the hole and to the ground with a loud thud. Will leaned down and helped her untangle herself from the frayed net.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I could have done without the poking," she replied.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed," Dustin winked at Will.

"Excuse me?"

"It's good to get the fruit while it's fresh."

Buffy stood and stared at the dark-haired man. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"What? A guy and a girl alone in Lover's Lane at night is nobody's-"

"That's not what this is, you pervert!" Buffy fumed, "We're hunting a werewolf."

Dustin snickered, his eyes travelling between Will and Buffy.

"Yeah, it's pretty funny if you don't believe in werewolves-"

"No, it's funny to think that you two could catch one. I mean, this guy looks like he's auditioning to be a librarian," he laughed, nudging the tip of his rifle at Will, "And you. You're just a girl."

"Believe me, she's more than qualified," Will frowned.

"Uh huh. Let me ask you something, sweetie. How many of these things have you taken down?"

Buffy shuffled on the spot. "As of today?"

Dustin grabbed his necklace of teeth. "I tore a tooth from the mouth of every werewolf I've ever killed. The next one will bring me to an even dozen."

"Wait, you just _kill _them?"

"Well, that's the thing. Their pelts sell pretty well on the black market in Sri Lanka and it's kind of hard to skin them when they're alive."

"You hunt werewolves for sport?" Will asked incredulously.

"Oh, no, I do it purely for the money."

"And it doesn't bother you that they are _people _for twenty eight days of the month?" asked Buffy.

"You know what? It does bother me. A lot. That's why I only hunt them during the other three," he said, smiling widely.

Buffy glared at him as he started to pack away his net and trap. Dustin Goolsby would have a handsome face if he weren't so smarmy.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm on a tight schedule. Do you have any idea where the teenagers in this town get together?"

"You're looking for a party?" asked Buffy, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm not, but the werewolf is. They're suckers for the whole sexual heat thing."

"Well, wish I could help, but..."

"You don't know squat? What a surprise." Dustin rolled his eyes and trekked off as Buffy turned to Will.

"The Bronze?" he asked.

"Uh-uh. Rented out for the night for a fortieth birthday party. But I think I know where to look. We just have to get there before mein fuhrer."

xxx

Rachel stood by the door, her green dress billowing as guest after guest poured in and headed to the kitchen for a drink or to the basement to get in line for karaoke. The party had been in full rage for almost an hour and Rachel hadn't been able to enjoy any of it. Brittany knew an alarming amount of people who were up for a party, some of which she didn't even recognise from school. People crowded around, eating snacks in the sitting room and spilling into the dining room.

She would be darting through rooms, making sure people weren't vandalizing her house, but she thought it rude not to greet her guests. Still, she was getting tired of taking people's coats and she wanted to have fun downstairs with Quinn or Tina before they retired to their own houses.

"Hey, Rach."

"Hel-" Rachel looked up at all six feet of Finn Hudson, dressed in a smart peacoat, "What are _you _doing here?!"

"It's nice to see you, too."

"What? Sorry, I mean; hello, Finn. I didn't know you would be here tonight."

"Brittany invited me," he said over the music, "She said it would be okay.

"Oh, right..." Rachel sighed, "Maybe... maybe it's not okay, actually."

"You want me to leave?" he asked, taken aback.

"Look, normally I would let you stay and just spend the night avoiding you, but I really need this night, Finn. I just want to have fun."

"That's not that hard. We used to have fun together all the time."

"That was _before_. I'd really just be more comfortable if you left."

Finn frowned, disappointed. "Are you seeing someone else?"

"What? Finn, no. That's not what this is about."

"I thought if I gave you time, you'd get over this."

"I _have _gotten over this. I just don't want to see you. Is that so unbelievable?"

"I just don't see why it'd be torture to be in the same _building _as me."

"I'm in the same building as you everyday! At school, seeing you flirting with the girls in our class to try and make me jealous! This is my _home_, Finn, and I don't want to you here. This night is for my friends, okay? We've been through a lot of stuff lately a-and... Quinn needs me-"

"_Quinn_?! You are such a hypocrite, Rachel. Quinn lied and cheated her way through sophomore year and you're still at her beck and call."

"No, I'm not! And Quinn is different now!"

"Is there something wrong?"

Finn and Rachel turned to see Quinn standing near them with a red plastic cup in her hand and denim jacket over her party dress, her hair down and curled around her shoulders.

"Quinn," Rachel seemed to sigh in relief.

"This has nothing to do with you," Finn said venomously to the blond.

"I heard my name," Quinn said calmly.

Finn sighed irritably. "Quinn, I'm talking to my girlfriend. Can you just...?" Finn gestured for her to leave.

Quinn raised an eyebrow and scoffed, dropping a hip and putting on her best cheerleader pout. "Your girlfriend? You sure you don't want to rephrase that? Because it was to my belief that you cheated on Rachel and she royally dumped your ass. Or am I living in a parallel universe where you're not a douchebag?"

"You can't say a lot, Quinn, you did a lot worse."

"You know what, Finn? I am so _sick _of you throwing my past mistakes in my face. It's getting so old. I screwed up, _a lot_, but you know what? I owned up and I learned. But you? You are here begging to not only be forgiven but be praised, and for what? You haven't done anything to deserve Rachel. The only thing that's happened since Halloween is the passing of time and you somehow becoming even more annoying. You cheating on Rachel was the best thing that ever happened to her because now she is not held back by your lameness. _You are a walking pile of mashed potatoes._"

Finn's mouth hung open and he looked at Rachel once more. "Whatever..." he mumbled.

He backed away and left the house, completely dejected. Rachel looked at Quinn, her mouth a wide oval. "Quinn... that was _amazing_."

Quinn frowned. "Yeah, well, I guess I still have some bitch left in me. You can lead a horse to water."

"Well, I don't see anything wrong with having to be a bitch once in awhile," Rachel smiled fondly, "I have a confession to make."

"Yeah?"

"This night was planned with selfish intent."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, of course I want you and Buffy to be able to take your minds off of what happened to Santana, but I was mainly thinking of myself. I needed a pick-me-up. I've been in a rut lately, with Finn bothering me and everyone else has been so busy... I don't want to complain because it's nobody's fault, but..."

Quinn frowned. "You've been feeling ignored."

"I guess so. God, I'm so self-obsessed."

"No, you're not. I'm sorry you feel... neglected. I mean, I totally get it. I haven't been that great a friend to you, either. I've been completely avoiding you-"

"What? You have? Why?"

"Oh, um..." Quinn's heart started to beat harder. It was there, on the tip of her tongue. _I love you_. "It doesn't matter anymore. We're friends now and we're gonna... do friend stuff. And it'll be great, okay? Don't think about Finn. Finn doesn't matter anymore. We're gonna 'Thelma and Louise' it."

Quinn handed Rachel her red plastic cup. "Drink this." She turned and held up her arms. "Spin the Bottle!" she yelled into the crowd of partiers and the partiers cheered back.

**Up next: Spin The Bottle and confrontations...**

**a/n: Anyone have any idea who the werewolf is or who they'd like it to be? Reviews are always encouraged :)**


	60. The Werewolf

**a/n: So I guess when you overcome month long writer's block, it all comes flooding out like a broken dam. I'm cool with it if you are.**

"Where's Blaine?" Mercedes called over the thumping music in Rachel Berry's over-sized, renovated basement, carrying over two red plastic cups of rum and Coke and handing one to Kurt.

"Hiding somewhere, probably," he replied, taking a syrupy sip from his cup as he peered over the heads of Rachel's party guests, "He's kind of shy at parties."

"Yeah, well, he's not the only one. Sam is M.I.A."

"You came here with Sam?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not a date. I know he just wants to see Buffy."

"Guys just don't know when to take a hint. I told Finn not to come tonight, but did he listen to me? No. He shouldn't be so surprised that he got kicked out by Quinn Fabray's bitch force."

"Guys."

"Seriously. Guys. Blaine has been acting... weird."

"Weird how?"

Kurt sighed and pulled Mercedes closer by her sleeve. "Something happened at Santana's birthday party. I touched Quinn's hand and... I think I read her mind!"

"You can read minds now?!" Mercedes quirked her brow, "Should I start calling you Professor H?"

"What? No. The thing is, I think that Blaine is keeping something from me, because ever since then, he's been super careful about touching me. We haven't kissed, we haven't even held hands!"

"Maybe he's not keeping anything from you. Maybe he's just... I don't know. I know I wouldn't be comfortable if somebody could read my mind even if I had nothing to hide."

"Yeah, I know. It's just, I've been doing exercises and working on controlling my visions. I think I can do the same with this mind reading thing, but not if Blaine never gives me a chance to touch him. I don't want to have to live my life like the boy in the bubble."

"At least you have somebody."

"Mercedes, you are too young to be bitter."

"Shane _dumped _me, Kurt. For a cheerleader! You have no idea what kind of pain I'm in. I think I have every damn right to be bitter."

Kurt shook his head. "Guys."

"Guys," Mercedes frowned.

"Guys!"

Kurt and Mercedes turned to find Buffy rushing towards them in a jacket and jeans worn for patrolling, strands of blond hair falling in front of her face.

"Buffy, what's wrong?" asked Mercedes.

Buffy sighed, panting. "Has anything... Have you seen any... Have you seen a werewolf?"

"What?!" Kurt gasped, "No. You're hunting a werewolf?"

Buffy nodded. "We were tipped off that werewolves are attracted to sexual heat, so I figured, who could resist a House o' Hormones like a high school house party?"

"Well, don't come to us if you're looking for sexual heat," smirked Mercedes.

"Yeah, more like sexual frustration. If you're looking for hormones, they're playing Spin the Bottle upstairs in the den," said Kurt.

Upstairs, a Ke$ha song blasted and Brittany leaned over the stereo with a not-so-sober grin plastered on her face. Most of the party had accumulated up here, circled around an empty Wine Cooler bottle. Boys kept nudging Quinn and goading her into taking extra turns. It had all been fun and games, but as Quinn spun the glass bottle for the fifth time, she decided she was getting sick of kissing the boys in her class and having to push them away before they snaked their tongues into her mouth.

She sighed and took another swig of Smirnoff Ice as the bottle slowed and landed in the opposite direction. Quinn looked up in the direction of the bottleneck and saw Rachel Berry smiling back. Quinn blinked, her face getting hot. Rachel gulped the last of her drink and tossed the plastic cup away, leaning forward with her lips pink and soft and her eyes closed. Quinn clenched her clammy hands and leaned towards Rachel, her heart audibly beating in her own ears.

Quinn started to panic. God, was this happening? Was Rachel Berry a few inches away, smelling like strawberry shampoo and vodka? As Quinn's heart raced, she felt bombarded by her own surroundings. The stale smell of alcohol, the messy shag carpet, the boys hooting and howling around them, falling over each for a good look at some girl-on-girl action. _No_, she thought as she backed away from Rachel. This wasn't how she wanted it to happen. Not under the stares of horny teenagers and the influence of alcohol.

As Rachel opened her eyes, disappointment sinking in, the girls looked towards the archway to the dining room as they heard a crash and a scream coming from the hall.

"What was that?" asked Quinn as the party guests around them fell silent.

A blur of dark fur and long, gnashing teeth came bounding into the den.

"Rachel!" Quinn cried and grabbed Rachel's shoulders, pushing her to the ground as the wild beast leapt over them and crashed into the stereo system.

Quinn and Rachel scrambled over each other and rushed out of the den. Quinn spotted Buffy rushing upstairs with a duffle bag in hand.

"In there!" Quinn yelled to her as she pulled Rachel along with her and rushed out of the front door in frightened pandemonium.

Buffy rushed to the den to see the werewolf snarling in the corner. It was twice the size of a normal wolf, covered in wild black fur and large ovular brown eyes behind its wrinkled snout, it's sharp white teeth bared.

"Okay," she said quietly, taking a long, heavy bicycle chain out of her duffle and throwing down her empty bag, "Here doggie."

The werewolf growled and lunged forward just as Buffy swung the chain like a lasso, wrapping it around the animal's neck and making it yelp. She held tight as the animal yanked backwards, pulling Buffy along with it. Buffy fell to her knees, the hold on the werewolf coming loose. It ran free from the chains and dived through Rachel's dining room window, scattering sharp shards of glass on the hardwood floor.

"You let it get away?!"

Buffy turned around to see Dustin, red-faced and staring at her from the entrance of the den, Will hovering behind him. The party guests had flooded out and the house was silent thanks to Rachel's now broken stereo system.

"I didn't _let _it do anything," Buffy huffed as Will helped her off of the floor, "I had the chain around its neck-"

"Chain? What, were you going to take it for a walk?"

"I was going to lock it up."

Dustin chuckled bitterly. "That's beautiful. This is what happens when a girl tries to do a man's job."

"Excuse me, Goolsby, but Buffy put her life at risk trying to capture a monster that you couldn't even find," Will frowned.

"Uh-huh and Daddy's doing a good job holding the bag of Dentastix. Listen, honey, if that thing hurts anybody, that's on your head. Do you think you can live with that?"

Dustin headed back out, shaking his head and mumbling to himself with a rifle attached to his belt.

"I live with that everyday," Buffy groaned to herself, squeezing a sore spot on her shoulder.

xxx

"Buffy!"

Buffy turned in the school hallway, her shoulders squared, to see Sam sprinting towards her in a McKinley letterman jacket, his blond hair flopping.

"Hey, Sam," Buffy said awkwardly, playing with the straps on her backpack.

"Hey. I didn't catch you at the party last night. I mean, obviously you were busy. I heard about the..." Sam made sure no-one was listening, leaned in and whispered, "Werewolf."

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, "It wasn't a good night. I can't believe I let it get away. I should have killed it when I had the chance."

"Is everyone okay? Was anyone scratched or... bitten?"

"No, we're fine. But the werewolf got someone. Lea Hamilton turned up dead last night."

"Whoa. I'm sorry."

"The worst part is, I could have stopped it."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Buffy. Everything that's happened recently... I'd be off my game, too."

Buffy furrowed her brow and frowned sympathetically. "How can you be so nice to me?"

"I'm not mad at you, Buffy," Sam frowned, "I kind of wish I could be mad at you, but... I love you. I know you don't love me the same way, but I still want you to be happy. You're probably the coolest girl I've ever met and if you want to be with someone else... You know, I really am sorry about what happened to Santana."

Buffy blinked rapidly and looked away, trying not to let herself come to tears. "Thank you... Sam. I honestly don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Just... let me help. We can be friends."

"Of course," Buffy nodded, "You want to help catch a werewolf?"

"Yeah, who wouldn't?" Sam smiled gleefully.

"Well, there's only one more night."

"That's so weird," Sam shivered, "While we hang out at school doing nothing, there could be a werewolf walking around, probably making fun of us. Is there any way to tell who it is?"

"Not that I know of."

Sam nodded, the cogs in his brain turning. "Okay. To find a werewolf, you have to think like a werewolf."

"Uh-"

"I'm a big, bad wolf. I'm on the prowl. I'm a sniffing, snarling, slobbering. I'm... Wait a second. It's so obvious! I'm Karofsky! He's practically got wolf boy stamped on his forehead, not to mention the excessive back hair. And I didn't see him at the party!"

"That doesn't necessarily-"

"I'm going to confront him."

"Okay, well... Have fun with that," Buffy said as Sam brushed past her and strode towards the boys' locker room.

xxx

Karofsky slung a red towel over his shoulders and tied the laces on his tennis shoes, his hair still wet from the steam showers. He stood up in the quiet locker room, the place basically empty and turned around, startled to see a head of blonde hair staring back at him from the end of the row of red lockers.

"Jeez, Evans, wear a bell next time," Karofsky frowned.

"Why so jumpy, Karofsky?" asked Sam, folding his arms.

"Geeks make me nervous."

"Is that really it? Or is there something else you're hiding?" Sam narrowed his eyes.

"I could hide my fist in your face," Karofsky mumbled without much conviction and popped open his locker.

"I know you're secret, big guy. I know what you've been doing at night."

Karofsky exhaled through his nose and Sam was sure he was going to blow smoke out of his nostrils. "You know, Evans, that nose of yours is going to get you into trouble one day."

Karofsky grabbed Sam by the collar of his letterman jacket and slammed him against the row of lockers.

"Hurting me won't make this go away," Sam said bravely, "People are still going to find out."

"What do you want, Evans?!" Karofsky demanded, "Hush money? Is that what you're after?"

"No," Sam frowned, "I just want to help."

Karofsky dropped Sam and turned away, emitting a skeptical laugh. "You want to help. Right. What, you got a cure?"

"No, I just... I get what you're going through. I mean, I don't exactly, but stuff like this happens more than you'd think. Weird stuff happens to people, believe me. I mean, I've never met anybody in your situation, but similar stuff has happened to me."

"Yeah?" Karofsky raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not really the same, but I've... I've changed and not even realized it had happened to me."

"Yeah, that's kind of what it feels like," Karofsky admitted with a sniff.

"I've been there. Me a-and Finn-"

"Finn Hudson?!" 

"Yeah, man, you have no idea. You're not the only one. But we have to do something before it gets out of hand."

Karofsky shook his head. "Man, if this gets out, it's over for me. Forget about playing football, they'll run me out of town. I mean, come on. I've got a reputation. How do you think people are gonna look at me when they find out I'm gay?"

Sam's face fell as Karofsky went on. A surprised smile appeared on the broad-shouldered boy's face. "God, I said it. And it felt... okay. I'm gay."

Sam smiled, somewhat disappointed. "Uh, yeah."

"God, I can't believe it. It was almost easy. I never felt like I could tell anyone and then you, of all people, brought it out of me."

"I don't want to take all the credit."

"No, because knowing you went through the same thing made it easier."

"Oh, actually-"

"You and Finn. That's insane. No wonder he has trouble keeping a girlfriend."

"Um, Dave-"

"It's like, all the times I beat the crap out of Hummel, it was just because I recognized something in him that I didn't want to believe about myself. God, I have to apologize."

"Well... yeah, okay."

"And don't worry, Evans, I would never out you. Your secret's safe with me."

Karofsky clapped a hand down on Sam's shoulder and smiled, grateful, before walking away and leaving Sam confused and alone in the locker room.

xxx

"So what's the scuttle-butt? Anybody besides Karofsky fit the werewolf profile?"

Tina looked away from her laptop and up at Buffy, who was walking into the choir room.

"Just this one name that keeps coming up. Aggressive behavior, run-ins with the authorities, about a handful of violent incidents..." Tina raised an eyebrow and grinned at the blonde.

"Okay, most of those weren't my fault," said Buffy, taking a seat on one of the bendy plastic chairs, "The other guy started it. I was just standing up for myself."

"They say it's a good idea to count to ten when you're angry."

Buffy threw Tina a dramatic glare. "One, two, three-"

"I'll keep looking."

Sam strolled in, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, looking conflicted.

"Hey," Buffy greeted him, "How'd it go with Karofsky?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked defensively.

"I think it means, 'How'd it go with Karofsky?'" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"He's not the werewolf. Let's leave it at that."

"Okaaay. So there goes our lead suspect," Buffy sighed irritably, "Now we're back to square dead."

"We are not dead," Tina sighed, "We'll find a way. We're the scoobies."

"Yeah, scoobies," smiled Sam, "Eradicators of evil. Defenders of... things that need defending."

"Tell that to Lea Hamilton. She could have used some defending before she was ripped apart by that..."

"...Werewolf," Sam finished her sentence as Buffy stared into space.

"Buffy?" Tina prodded gently.

"None of the reports said anything about Lea being mauled," said Buffy, "But it was linked with the animal attacks so we just assumed it was the werewolf."

"What else would we have assumed?" asked Sam.

xxx

Sam and Tina cowered behind Buffy in the funeral parlour that night, frowning sadly at the pale body of a former classmate. Lea Hamilton had been embalmed and dressed up for her funeral, the chalky makeup on her skin just barely covering up the puncture wounds on her neck.

"Vampire," Buffy said grimly.

"Well, that's good right? Th-that a werewolf didn't get her?" Sam frowned.

"No," Buffy sighed, "There's no good here. Instead of not protecting Lea from a werewolf I didn't protect her from something else just as bad."

Buffy slid a stake out from inside her sleeve and held it to Lea's unbeating heart, ready for the moment she opened her bright red eyes.

"Buffy, you can't blame yourself for every death in Lima," Tina said quietly.

"Yeah, Buffy, if it weren't for you this town would be way worse off. Rachel would be a robot love slave, Finn wouldn't have a head and Tina and I would probably be pushing daisies," said Sam.

Buffy stared down at Lea as her eyes snapped open, red and glassy.

"Santana sends her love," Lea smiled venomously just as Buffy plunged the stake into her chest. Lea was nothing but a pile of ash in her coffin but her message had left Buffy shaking.

"Are you okay?" asked Sam.

"This isn't happening," Buffy shook her head, "She's going to keep coming after me, until..."

"Buffy..." Tina frowned sadly.

Buffy sniffed, composing herself. "I've got a lot of work to do tonight. I should probably go do it."

xxx

Blaine swung open his polished white front door to see Kurt standing on the steps under the darkening sky, a picnic basket in his hand with a plaid blanket folded over it.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?" Blaine asked, taken aback.

"You and I are going for a picnic under the stars," Kurt smiled enthusiastically.

"This really isn't a good time-"

"Listen, Blaine, things have been weird ever since I told you about reading Quinn's mind and I get it, that would freak anyone out, but you mean a lot to me so I'm not just going to let this relationship drift into nothingness."

"Kurt-"

"I'm being _spontaneous_, Blaine! I mean, I've spent all day planning for it, but for me, that's spontaneous. I made cucumber sandwiches and cheese souffles. And mochi for dessert! Green tea and watermelon flavour!"

"Kurt, can we do this tomorrow?"

Kurt sighed, disappointed. "I want to talk about this now."

Kurt ploughed ahead past Blaine and inside the house.

"I have fought too long and too hard to have a normal life in this town and now that I finally have someone in my life who likes me the same way I like him," Kurt rambled as he walked into the kitchen to leave his picnic basket on the table, "I'm not going to just let it wither and die. If there is a problem, I want to know what it is so we can fix it. You've been ignoring me for days. I mean, am I just being oversensitive?"

"No, it's me. I'm going through... changes."

Kurt rolled his eyes and paced through the kitchen, spinning on his heel and walking into the dining room as he ranted. "Well, welcome to the world, Anderson. You want to talk to me about changes? I am King of Freaky Changes."

"No, this is different."

"Oh, what makes you think you're so special? You're human like the rest of us. Just a boy..." Kurt shook his head, his eyes landing on the surface of the dining room table where heavy duty chains and shackles lay next to a box of nuts and bolts, "...with chains and stuff... Why do you have chains and stuff?"

"Kurt, please-" Kurt turned to see Blaine behind him, doubled over in pain, "Get out!"

"Blaine? Blaine, what's wrong?"

Kurt moved forward and held out his hand to touch Blaine's head, which he was bowing as he panted in pain. Before Kurt could lay a finger on Blaine's curly hair, Blaine's head shot up, his nose starting to elongate and black fur growing up from his neck. Kurt gasped and Blaine's back arched with a sickening crack and he landed on all fours, his body morphing before Kurt's eyes.

Blaine looked up and in a deep growl yelled, "Run!"

xxx

Will set a steel case down on his office desk and unsnapped the latches, opening the case to reveal a grey foam mold containing a mostly silver, high-tech rifle. Will removed the rifle and looked it up and down, twisting it around in his hands.

Buffy swung the door open and shrugged her backpack off of her shoulders, tossing it in the corner. "Sorry I'm late. I had to do some unscheduled slaying in the form of Lea Hamilton."

Will looked up from the unassembled pieces of the rifle in surprise. "She's a vampire?"

"Was. Snix sent her to me. A token of her affections," Buffy frowned grimly.

"Buffy, I'm sorry-"

"Not now, Will," Buffy raised a hand impatiently, "We'll have ourselves a good cry after we've bagged a werewolf."

Will nodded stoically and raised the rifle, screwing the scope on top. "All set. Let's go find this thing."

"One question," said Buffy, "How exactly do we find this thing?"

Kurt tumbled through the glass office door, breathless and pink-faced. "It's Blaine!" he exclaimed breathlessly, "It's Blaine!"

"What's Blaine?" asked Buffy.

"The werewolf!"

"Are you sure?" asked Will.

"Can you just trust me on this? He... he said he was going through all these changes and then he went through all these... changes!"

"Where is he now?" asked Buffy.

"He chased me into the woods."

"Kurt, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna take care of everything."

"Let's go." Will clenched his jaw and pumped the silver rifle, turning Kurt's eyes into wide blue moons.

"Go where?! You're going to _kill _Blaine?! I mean, yeah, he's a werewolf, but he doesn't mean to be!"

"It's okay," Buffy shook her head, "We won't hurt him."

"I loaded this with enough phenobarbital to take down a small elephant," said Will, "I think it should work on a large werewolf."

xxx

Blaine howled as he reached a clearing in the woods and spotted a thick slab of raw, red meat sitting under the moonlight. His mind was too muddled and focused on the scent of bloody carcass and the anticipation of the taste on his tongue to wonder how it had gotten there. He trotted forward and sniffed the cleanly cut meat and started to tear at it, gulping it down in quick swallows.

"Good doggie," someone said calmly in the distance, "Now play dead."

Blaine's ears pricked up, but he was too focused on his food to care. He recognized the words as human ones, but they were muddled in his elongated ears. Words weren't the same to him now.

Suddenly, Blaine heard a clatter and a shot ring out and looked up, ignoring his meal. A man and a young, blonde girl struggled with each other, their hands grappling over a rifle between them, fighting it away from each other. Blaine sprung forward on his powerful paws as the blonde butted the man with the end of his own rifle.

Blaine leapt onto the blonde. Part of him felt like he knew her, but most of him didn't care enough to remember. To him, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and that made her fair game. The blonde hit him with the rifle like it was a club and fell on top of him. Blaine kicked out with his forceful back legs and pushed the girl off.

Blaine twisted onto his front and arched his back, growling. The blonde had fallen into two other people; a tall man and a pale boy. Blaine locked eyes with the boy and watched them, a pleasantly familiar, blue green stormy color... Blaine snapped his teeth and lunged forward. Terrified, the boy scrambled for something in the cold grass. The boy gripped a strange silver pipe and pointed it at Blaine. A sharp pain shot through Blaine's shoulder and a coldness swept through his body, numbing his bones until his thoughts dispersed and his vision went black.

"Oh my God," Kurt gasped, still keeping the tranquilizer gun raised, "I shot Blaine. Buffy, I shot Blaine."

"You saved us," said Will, putting a hand on the boy's back and gently taking the gun out of his hand.

Dustin approached them, not bothering to hide the disgust on his face. "No wonder this town is full of monsters. No-one around here is man enough to kill them."

Buffy grimaced and lifted Dustin's rifle. "I have been sick of you since the moment _before _I met you and I have been waiting for just the right moment to take you on. But then I realized, a big strong man like you versus a girl like me?" Buffy grabbed each side of the rifle in her hands and folded the metal in half. "Wouldn't be a fair fight." She tossed him the bent hunk of metal. "How about you let the door hit you on the ass on the way out of town?"

Dustin eyed what was formerly his rifle and then looked at Buffy, sizing her up. He opened his mouth to say something and then decided against it, shaking his head and walking away. Buffy half-smiled and turned to the others to see Kurt bent over the unconscious werewolf.

"Kurt...?"

"Will he be okay?" asked Kurt.

"He'll be a little sore in the morning," said Will, "But he'll be Blaine."

xxx

Quinn stood near the doorframe of the guest room. Shelby had her back to her, bobbing up and down with Beth falling asleep in her arms. Quinn felt a pang of jealousy as Shelby sniffed Beth's wispy blonde curls. It was strange how a girl like Quinn Fabray - who was known for getting what she wanted - had no idea what she really wanted. She wanted Beth in her arms, but she didn't want to get attached. She wanted to be with Rachel but she didn't want to freak her out.

Shelby turned with Beth still in her arms and smiled at Quinn. "How are you?" she asked quietly.

"Fine," Quinn whispered with a shrug, "Tired."

"Do you want to hold her?"

Quinn hesitated and then shook her head. "No."

"Getting attached isn't always a bad thing."

Quinn frowned, a question burning on her tongue. "What about Rachel?"

Shelby looked surprised, but quickly composed herself. "Rachel... is her own person now. I waited too long to get to know her and now... There's nothing there."

"You could try, couldn't you? She really wanted a mom..."

"I didn't realize you and Rachel were friends."

"We are."

Shelby sighed. "Rachel wanted a mom because she thought she was supposed to want a mom. Jesse put it in her head, made her think she'd be complete if she had one. But that's not so. Rachel doesn't need me. She doesn't need a mom and I could never be her mom. Not now."

Quinn frowned. "Well, Beth doesn't need two."

"What do you need?" Shelby asked calmly, "I know I'd give anything to go back and see Rachel grow up."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I know how you feel and I know how Rachel feels. My mom died when I was a baby. My dad was quick to get remarried and I was quick to be forgotten... We all need someone in our lives who we know isn't going to leave us."

"I don't think anything is that simple."

"Maybe not. But it's better to be open to love and lose a few people than to be guarded all your life and never have anyone at all." Beth's eyes fell closed and her mouth hung open as she drifted to sleep. "Do you want to hold her?"

Quinn clenched her jaw and nodded. She walked forward with open arms and Shelby handed Beth to her. She was lighter than Quinn had imagined and impossibly small. The tips of her nose and ears were pink and her eyelids had a tinge of blue running through them. Quinn just held her for a moment and smelled her mild baby scent.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," said Quinn, tucking her chin over Beth's head and squeezing the baby tighter.

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I get this... pang. And when it happens, I think of Beth. I asked my own mother about it and she said that it's a feeling a mother gets when her child does magic, but... how can Beth be doing magic? She's too young."

Shelby pursed her lips and folded her arms over her purple cardigan. "Beth is more powerful than I ever imagined, Quinn. It's... remarkable. She doesn't mean to do it most of the time. It's like an instinct. Little things like summoning a pacifier or accidents like turning her eyes from green to brown..."

Quinn looked down at the baby girl in her arms. So much power in something so small. It was frightening.

"I'm thinking of moving back to Lima," said Shelby.

Quinn looked back up, her heart racing. "...What? Really?"

"It was just a thought. Maybe I could start teaching again. I think it's important for Beth to know you can't just run away from your problems. I think it's important for her to... be near the source of her power."

Quinn smiled, her heart welling up as she wrapped her arms tighter around the infant and felt her soft hair brush against her chin. "What would happen...?" she asked, not sure how to phrase what she meant to ask.

"I want you to be in her life, Quinn. I want you to know her."

xxx

Puck skipped down the creaking wooden stairs to his basement with a knife in one hand to greet the two boys who were already down there. Kurt had an arm around Blaine and a hand hanging from his shoulder and both of them had their shoulders drooped as they stared at wall of steel bars that separated a large portion of the basement.

"Don't look so down," Puck tried to smile, "It's only three nights a month and now I won't be so bored and lonely when I wolf out."

Blaine nodded and tried to give Puck a smile. "Thank you for this. I don't know what I would have done."

"No problem," Puck shook his head, "I know how scary it is. I just wish someone would have been there to tell me some of the important stuff, like this. Hummel, will you do the honor?"

Puck handed Kurt the knife and Kurt pressed the sharp blade to the palm of his hand, slicing against it and drawing blood.

"Kurt, what are you doing?!" Blaine gasped.

"Puck wants to show you something," Kurt said with certainty and winced as he held his bloody hand out for Puck to take.

Puck held Kurt's hand in his for a moment with concentration written on his face. When he let go, Kurt picked up a rag off of the surface of the dryer and wiped the blood from his palm to reveal pink, unbroken skin.

"I-I don't understand," Blaine stammered.

"It's a werewolf thing," Puck shrugged, "Sure, we're dangerous and destructive and we'll kill anything in our way, but guess what else? We're also healers. We're invaluable."

Blaine bit his bottom lip to try and stop his eyes welling with tears.

"I'll give you two a minute," Puck bowed his head and trotted back upstairs.

Kurt put a gentle hand on Blaine's back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just... This is all so strange. It's just nice to know something good came out of it."

"Two goods things."

"What?" Blaine sniffed.

Kurt planted a kiss on Blaine's lips and pulled back. "Werewolves are immune to magic. That includes mind reading."

Blaine put a hand on the back of Kurt's neck and kissed him back more fervently. "I love you," he mumbled against Kurt's mouth.

Kurt widened his eyes, surprised, and pulled back from the kiss. "I-I love you, too. And I'm sorry how all that ended last night. With me shooting you."

"That's okay. I almost ate you."

"It's fine. I just wish you would have told me."

"I didn't know what to say. It's not everyday you find out you're a werewolf. I mean, these were things I'd _studied_, for fun. I knew sketching in graveyards at night was dangerous, yeah, but I didn't think _this _would happen."

"Well, no more sketching in graveyards when you're not accompanied by a slayer. It's kind of my motto."

Blaine smiled and nodded. "Agreed," he sighed and squeezed Kurt's hand, looking contemplative, "A werewolf in love."

**Up next: Hormonal teenagers and a love spell gone wrong. Not a good combo.**


	61. The Love Spell

Buffy was like a ghost in the hallways, walking slowly to the end of the hall with a thin, blue textbook for Health class in her hand. She was walking to her next period, her thoughts far away from school. She kept playing one sentence through her inner ear on repeat; _Santana sends her love_.

The whole situation was torturous, especially going from class to class and trying to keep up her grades despite the fact that her heart was torn in two by the person she loved most. She almost wished she could take the love back, to have never said it or felt it. Then, maybe none of this would have happened.

She looked up to see a tall blonde making her way towards her, wearing a black pencil skirt and a snug black sweater, smiling mischievously.

"Holly," Buffy said, widening her eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"Don't worry, B-Side," Holly smirked, "I'm here on strict teacher duties. No watching allowed. Your Health teacher has been... let go."

"Mrs. Radbury? Yeah, last week she told us that sex was a 'special hug' so her qualifications as a Health teacher was pretty questionable."

Holly smiled brightly. "Well, I'm here to tell all of you sex-driven hormone bombs how to do it safely and _in style_."

Buffy smirked. "Whatever that means..." she mumbled, walking towards Health class with Holly Holliday.

They walked through the wooden door and Buffy took a seat up front beside Tina while Holly greeted the class with an, "Hola, chicos," and started to set her things on the desk. As Buffy swished her blond hair, Sam nudged Mercedes with his elbow in their double-seat by the window.

"So, have you heard anything in glee club?" he asked, "Like, how she's doing?"

Mercedes rolled her dark brown eyes. "Why don't you _ask _her? I thought you were supposed to be friends now."

"Yeah, we are, but it's still... awkward. I mean, she's not going to talk to me about her feelings. She's not going to talk to me about... Santana."

"What makes you think she's going to talk to _me _about it?"

"Well, maybe she sang something sad in glee club?"

"She hasn't sang anything in glee club. This week has been all angry break-up songs by Rachel Berry, _still_. I mean, she broke up with Finn months ago. I get that he's still annoying, but I am _so over it_-"

"Has she been acting different?"

Mercedes sighed irritably. "Well, yeah, Sam, the girl she loves had her soul taken away. She's been acting _sad_."

Sam frowned sympathetically, his eyes still on the back of Buffy's blonde head. "I wish there was something I could do."

Mercedes shook her head and ignored the boy next to her. Quinn folded her arms across her chest at the back of the room, similarly irritable about the conversation she was having.

"Look at him," Rachel shook her head and narrowed her eyes at Finn, who was sitting at the top of the class with his arm around Dakota Bargis, "As if he really cares about Dakota Bargis. He's just trying to rub it in my face. Look! He keeps looking back at us!"

"Well, yeah," Quinn sighed, "He's obsessed with you. If you keep talking about him, you're giving him exactly what he wants."

"Right," Rachel sighed deeply, nodding, "I'm sorry, I keep rambling on about him. How have you been? It must be strange having Beth in your house."

Quinn nodded. She had admitted to Rachel her back-up plan to restore Santana's soul with the help of Shelby. She just hadn't had the time to ask Rachel if she'd help. But how do you ask someone to help the mother that rejected them and the boy that brutally dumped them?

"Yeah, it's odd. I'm not exactly sure of how I'm supposed to act, but I do want to be apart of Beth's life and so does Puck, so-"

"Look! He just turned around to see if I was looking at him! He is so transparent!"

Quinn rolled her eyes as Holly Holliday stood and called for their attention.

"Okay, ladies and germs," smiled Holly, "Today I'm picking up where your last teacher left off with sex education, only a little less of the stork theories and some more practical stuff, 'kay 'kay? So, listen, you guys, I know you have a celibacy club in the school and a lot of people are going to preach abstinence to you, but I'm here to tell you that you kids are growing up and no-one's going to blame you for not waiting for marriage or an impending apocalypse or something."

The class tittered and Buffy frowned.

"The only way you guys are going to protect yourselves from the negative consequences of sex is to be prepared," said Holly.

Rachel's hand shot up in the air. "Ms. Holiday, can you demonstrate how to properly use a condom?" she asked, perkily.

Quinn smirked. Though she knew Rachel had only asked to get a rise out of Finn, she was happy to see that the footballer was beginning to look ill.

"I thought you'd never ask!" Holly smiled and removed an unpeeled cucumber from her handbag.

When class was over, Rachel skipped out into the hallways, revelling in the possibility that Finn thought she was having sex with another boy. Normally she would never think so vindictively, but lately, her angered thoughts always turned to Finn. At least they weren't romantic thoughts, but all the same, she wished she could get him out of her mind.

"Rach!"

Rachel turned, her jaw clenched, to see Finn slowly striding next to her. "Yes, Finn?" she asked, jutting her chin into the air.

"I wanted to apologize about what happened at your house party. It was uncalled for. I really didn't show up to start a fight."

Rachel nodded. "I accept your apology, Finn, but I think it would be best if we didn't talk to each other."

"Oh, come on," Finn tried to smile sweetly, "Buffy and Sam broke up, like, two weeks ago and they're already talking. I think we could be friends, too, if we tried."

Rachel nodded. "Yes, but the problem is, Finn, that's you've made it clear that you still have feelings for me. You want to get back together and I'm just not interested. Sam still loves Buffy but he's not pressuring her to get into a relationship with him again. He's respecting her boundaries."

"Please," Finn snorted, "He's watching her from afar like a love struck puppy."

"And what are you doing, Finn?" Rachel raised an eyebrow, "I really don't want to have an argument at school of all places."

"Hey, Rachel," Quinn called and quickly sprinted to the brunette's side, "Can I see your for a second? I have a question about the glee club assignment. Oh, hi, Finn, are you here to smother Rachel with your man boobs?"

"I'm not here to fight with you, Quinn," Finn frowned, gritting his teeth.

"Whatever," Quinn rolled her eyes, "Come on, Rachel."

Rachel looped her arm into Quinn's and both girls disappeared around the corner.

"There is something about that Jolly Green Giant that turns me into such a mega-bitch," Quinn shook her head.

"Thanks for that," Rachel smiled.

"No problem," Quinn smiled back, squeezing Rachel's arm.

xxx

"Fancy it, pet?"

Drusilla held a velvet box in her hand and smiled, ecstatic, at the blood-red ruby necklace that sparkled at her from inside. She lifted her head and looked to Spike, who was grinning smugly at her from across the thick old wooden table in their underground lair.

"It's beautiful," she sighed dreamily, "Sparkly..."

"Nothing but the best for my-"

Spike was cut off by the bloody splat of a human heart being dropped on the dusty surface of the table. Drusilla set her necklace down at looked at the heart, her eyes widening with absolute delight. Snix appeared over her shoulder in a short, black gown and red lipstick, winking at Spike.

"Happy belated Valentine's Day, Dru," she said sweetly, brushing Drusilla's black hair over her shoulder and giving her a kiss on her jawline, "Sorry your first present didn't quite work out."

"Ooh, my angel," Drusilla cooed, scooping up the heart with both hands, "It's still warm!"

"I knew you'd like it. I got it in a quaint little shop assistant." Snix's eyes flitted to the ruby on the table and she picked up the necklace, inspecting it with a small smile. "Cute. Here, let me..."

Drusilla blissfully let her eyes flutter closed as Snix brushed her hair out of the way and began to fasten the necklace around Dru's pale, swanlike neck. Spike clenched his jaw and rolled forward in his rusty wheelchair.

"Leave it," he ordered, "I'll do it."

"Done," Snix smirked.

Spike seethed, staring daggers into Snix. "You'd do well to worry less about Dru and more about the slayer you tramped around with."

"Dear Buffy," Snix smiled fondly, "I'm still trying to decide how to send my regards."

"You could rip her lungs out," Spike said flatly, "That might make an impression."

"Lacks poetry," Snix shook her head.

"It doesn't have to. Let me think, what rhymes with lungs?" Spike asked himself.

"Don't worry, Spike. My angel will find her way..." Drusilla smiled, stroking the heart like it was a pet, "Snix knows just what speaks to a girl."

xxx

Buffy and her mother were splayed out on the couch with candy wrappers littering the coffee table and _Kate & Leopold _playing on the TV. "Pass me the caramel corn," said Joyce, unmoving with a throw over her.

Buffy's eyes flitted to the bowl of sweet popcorn an arm's length away on the table. "I can't," she said, lazily stretching her arm.

"Good," Joyce closed her eyes, nearly comatose with fullness.

Buffy groaned as the doorbell rang.

"You'll get it," Joyce smirked.

Buffy hoisted herself off the couch with great effort and unenthusiastically trudged to the door, opening it to greet nothing but the night breeze. Buffy shivered and arched an eyebrow, alertly sticking her head out to see who had rung the doorbell. She went back inside and closed the door behind her. She turned back into the living room, but her mother wasn't there and the DVD had been paused.

"Mom?" she called quietly.

She heard a scratching from the kitchen and ran in to see a tree branch poking at the window and the back door wide open, knocking slightly against the wall. Buffy cautiously walked toward it and when a figure appeared at the archway, Buffy gasped and held up her fists.

"Buffy!" Joyce gasped, holding a long, thin, black box, "It's me!"

"Sorry..." Buffy sighed, relieved, "You scared me."

"I went to check the back door. Somebody left these for you," she said, handing Buffy the box.

She handed Buffy the box. On the surface in white chalk her name was written. Buffy carefully lifted the lid to see a dozen blood-red roses laying side by side with a square, wide card on top of them. All it said was 'Soon'.

xxx

Finn walked into the nurse's office and cleared his throat over an episode of _Teen Mom _playing on the portable television. Terri didn't looked away from the screen as she filed her nails and answered, "What?"

"Uh, Nurse Delmonico?"

"_Yeah_?" Terri sighed, already irritable. 

"I need you to do something for me," he said, closing the door and leaning in closer to her, "A spell."

Terri looked up at him, holding her nail file still. "A spell, huh? What do you know about spells?"

"I know that you put a spell on the town at Halloween. If you can do that, then this should be easy for you."

"What should?" she asked, slightly interested.

"A love spell."

"A love spell?" she asked dubiously.

"Yeah. Good, old-fashioned, can't eat, can't sleep, can't do anything but think about me," he smiled.

"On _who_?"

"Rachel Berry. She's, uh, she's in glee club."

"One of the slayers little friends," Terri nodded, "Listen, Fred-"

"Finn."

"Yeah, I know you may think now that you'd like to spend the rest of eternity with someone-"

"What? Eternity? No, I don't want to be with Rachel for the rest of my life."

"Then what?"

"I just want her to want me. I want her to be in as much pain as I am."

"Well, I _am_ in the business of vengeance, but these kinds of things can be tricky. I can't just snap my fingers and make her love you like I could snap my fingers and turn her into a worm."

"What do you need?"

"Meet me here tonight. For a good old-fashioned love spell we need to use good old-fashioned witchcraft. Bring something that belongs to her, okay?"

Finn thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah. No problem."

xxx

"I want my necklace back."

Rachel and Quinn turned from Rachel's locker to see Finn standing near them, looking determined with his hands on his hips.

"What are you talking about?" asked Rachel.

"My necklace. The one with the gold star. I want it back," he said.

Rachel frowned, incredulous. "That was a gift."

"It was a gift at Christmas. Today, it's scrap metal."

Rachel clenched her jaw and dug through her locker.

"You're pathetic," Quinn shook her head as Rachel removed a gold necklace with a tiny star attached from inside her locker.

"You can have this, too," she said, handing him a chain that had 'Finn' hanging from the end of it in spiralled gold letters, "I won't need it anymore."

Finn snatched the two necklaces from her hand and stormed off.

"What is his _problem_?" Rachel asked as he disappeared around the corner

Quinn rolled her eyes. "He tries to use kindness to win you over and then when it doesn't immediately pay off, he gets mad. Forget about him."

"But I _can't _forget about him!" Rachel groaned, closing her locker door and resting her head against the cold metal, "He's all I ever think about now."

Quinn gritted her teeth. "He'll get over himself sooner or later. Just don't give him any attention."

"That's easier said than done. I lose sleep just thinking of good comebacks or things I should have said."

Quinn stared at the floor and tried not to be hurt by the fact that Rachel was still losing sleep over neanderthals like Finn Hudson. There were only so much just-ignore-hims and don't-let-him-get-to-yous that Quinn could give.

"Well, I have to get to a meeting with the Mock UN," Rachel sighed, "You should join. Sweden's out sick with mono."

Quinn smiled. "I'll think about it."

"Great. See you later!" Rachel grinned and skipped away.

Quinn laid flat against the row of lockers and thought about how everything sucked when Holly Holliday came walking past with that eternal smile on her face. Quinn quickly caught up to her.

"Ms. Holliday? Can I talk to you?" she asked, "In private? I need... relationship advice."

Holly grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

xxx

Rachel sat in the student lounge the next morning with Tina, both girls leaning over a Chemistry textbook to compare last night's homework. Rachel's brown eyes trailed across the list of formulas when a shadow fell over the page, obscuring the view. Rachel looked up to see Finn standing over her, smiling smugly.

"Finn, what do you want?" she asked, calmly.

"Morning, ladies," he said, his arms folded, "Nice weather we're having."

Rachel frowned and raised her eyebrows. "Finn, what do you _want_? You can't possibly be looking for more jewelry to melt down because all you ever gave me were those Walmart-looking necklaces."

Finn's smile faltered. "Uh... Are you okay? You aren't feeling a little... light-headed o-or flushed-?"

"Finn, no, I feel fine. Stop bothering me," she shook her head, "What is it with you?"

"Sorry," he frowned, "My mistake."

Rachel and Tina watched him leave, both girls bewildered. "Can you believe him?" Rachel turned to Tina.

"I know," Tina raised an eyebrow, "Did he cut his hair or something? He looked... nice."

Finn stormed into the empty gym and angrily picked up a basketball, tossing it at one of the tall baskets with a lot of force. The ball went way higher than intended and ricocheted off of the wall, bouncing to the back of the room.

"Hey!"

Finn spun around to see Morgan Ru scrambling off of the floor and kicking away the basketball with irritation.

"Sorry," Finn frowned, walking towards her, "Did I hit you?"

"Yeah, you did," Morgan frowned, patting down her Cheerios uniform, "Watch it next time, you big-" Morgan looked up at Finn's eyes and her mouth dropped open. "...big, strong... athletic..."

"I didn't think anyone was in here," he said, picking up the basketball.

"Just little old me," Morgan smirked, dropping one hip, "Stretching for practise later."

"Oh, right. I'll get out of your hair-"

"Wait, what's the rush?" asked Morgan, holding up a hand with a wide smile, "What are you doing all on your own?"

"Just wanted to shoot some hoops," Finn shrugged.

"You look a little... upset."

"Uh, yeah, it's nothing. Just..." Finn sighed, "My ex-girlfriends have decided to gang up on me and nothing I do seems to work."

"Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry?" Morgan wrinkled her nose in disgust, "You know, I never thought either one of them deserved you."

Finn scoffed. "Not the popular theory."

Morgan strutted towards him and smiled charmingly. "You know what? Why don't we go do something tonight? Just the two of us. Get your mind off those stupid little girls."

"Really?" Finn raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Yeah. We can comfort each other," Morgan smiled, "I'm actually kind of relieved you're not with either of them anymore. You know how you can see a person everyday and not really _see _them."

"Uh..." Finn started to blush, "Um, aren't you dating Karofsky?"

Morgan laughed. "Where have you been? Dave is gay. It was so humiliating for me. But I think it's time I get me a real man. When you think about it, we make a lot of sense. I'm the head cheerleader. You're the quarterback of the football team. It's, like, a match made in high school heaven. And I won't get knocked up by your best friend, either. I would never hurt you."

"Finn? Can I talk to you?"

Finn tore his eyes away from Morgan seductive smile to see Nurse Terri standing by the door of the gym.

"Uh, yeah, okay," he nodded and turned back to Morgan, "Hold that thought, alright?"

He sprinted over to Terri and stood with her out in the hallway, excited shivers running through his body.

"I don't think the spell worked," Terri shook her head.

"Yeah, it's not a big deal," said Finn, peeking through the windows in the double doors of the gym to see Morgan standing there, waiting.

"We should try again tonight. I'm still a little rusty with old-fashioned witchcraft."

"Uh, it's okay. It's better to not mess with these kinds of things..."

"Right. Well, we don't have to do a spell. We could just... spend time together."

"Uh, yeah... Wait, what?"

Terri smiled sweetly. "I just really enjoyed spending time with you last night. It's strange how you can see a person every day and..."

"Never really see them?" Finn raised an eyebrow.

"Exactly!" Terri grinned, "We're already finishing each other's sentences."

Finn gulped and peered through the window in the door again to see Morgan doing stretching exercises and waggling her fingers at him.

"So, I thought maybe tonight we could-" Terri continued, but was interrupted by Mercedes, who walked over with a History textbook in her hand.

"Hi, Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"You're in Mrs. Jackson's History class this semester, right? I thought maybe we could get together and study," she asked with a hopeful smile.

"Do you mind?" Terri frowned, "We're talking."

"I really have to leave... right now," Finn said promptly and spun around, running in the other direction.

Finn ran through the school hallway, catching every female gaze and getting glares from many of their boyfriends. He rushed out of school and drove home in a panic. Was he crazy, or was this the product of the spell he'd helped Nurse Delmonico do last night? He made it home and ran up the porch in two jumps, shutting the front door behind him and sighing, overwhelmed. He trudged into the family room and plopped down on the couch, wondering what in the world was going on with the girls at school when someone handed him a can of Coke from behind his shoulder.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and cracked the can open and gulping it down. Small hands started to squeeze his shoulders and he looked directly up to see Quinn leaning over him, a smile on her face and her long blonde hair splayed over her shoulders.

He nearly snorted the fizz out of his nose as he shot up, dropping the soda can.

"Sorry!" she gasped, still smiling, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, good job!" Finn spluttered.

"Calm down," Quinn rolled her eyes, "I've been at your house before."

"Yeah, when we were _dating_. What are you doing here now?!"

"I wanted to see you," she shrugged, "I feel so bad about how things have been lately. I was so cruel. I guess I just didn't realize how perfect you are. I never really did. Until now."

"No! Listen, Quinn, I know what you're feeling, but it isn't real."

"Of course it is. This is the most real I've ever felt," she smiled blissfully.

"No, listen. You and Rachel are friends-"

"Rachel," Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes, "She doesn't know what she's missing. She never should have given you up."

"That's it. This has all got to stop." Finn grabbed Quinn by the shoulders and pushed her towards the hallway. "Go home and... rest." He used one hand to open the front door and pushed Quinn out onto the porch with the other."

xxx

Kurt breathed out through his nose as Blaine pressed his lips and tongue against his, fervently snaking his hands around Kurt's body and pulling at the fabrics. Kurt's worries about his relationship with Blaine going downhill had ceased to exist and things were now getting more heated than ever. Blaine had never been particularly assertive but you wouldn't know it to see them now, with Blaine pressed on top of him on Kurt's bed, his Dalton blazer discarded and the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

"So, listen, we should keep talking about..." Kurt mumbled against Blaine's lips, "...about what I said earlier."

Blaine nuzzled into Kurt's neck and started planting kisses on his pale skin. "About McKinley?" he asked between kisses.

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, closing his eyes, "What do you think? I mean, Karofsky apologized really sincerely a-and Dalton is expensive so there's really no reason not to transfer back to McKinley next year... well, except... Blaine, are you listening?"

Kurt held Blaine by the shoulders and pushed him upwards.

"Yeah, I'm listening," Blaine nodded, staring down at Kurt with his lips wet, "It's just hard to concentrate when I see those collarbones..."

Blaine ducked back down and started kissing his boyfriend's collar bone.

"Blaine, come on," Kurt laughed, "You know, becoming a werewolf has changed you."

Blaine leaned back, looking sheepish. "Sorry."

"I wasn't complaining," Kurt smiled.

Blaine grinned. "Maybe I'll transfer with you."

Kurt widened his eyes. "To McKinley?"

"I love you, I love your friends... Why not?"

Kurt pulled Blaine back down and the two kissed until the door swung open and Blaine jumped up, stumbling and falling off of the bed. Kurt shot up to see Finn bursting into the room looking panicked.

"Finn!" Kurt shrieked, "Knock!"

"Now is not the time! I have a problem! Hey, Blaine."

Blaine rose from the floor, his face flushed. "Hi, Finn..."

"What do you want?!" Kurt demanded.

"I did something stupid," Finn frowned.

"That's not a surprise, Finn," Kurt grumbled, sliding off of the bed and sitting at the end of it.

"Have you had any visions lately?"

"No, I've been trying to control them."

"What are you doing that for?! You're supposed to have them ready so you can tell me if I'm about to do something stupid!"

"You doing something stupid is not noteworthy, Finn! What is your problem? Why are barging into my room?"

"I went to Nurse Delmonico," Finn frowned, "I wanted her to grant a wish."

"Finn," Kurt frowned, "What did you wish for?"

"We did a love spell on Rachel."

Kurt groaned. "Finn..."

"It didn't work, though. Something went wrong. Rachel wasn't affected."

"So what's the problem?"

"Every other girl in Lima is in love with me."

"_Finn_," Kurt sighed.

"What do I do?"

"First thing tomorrow, you go and tell Buffy and you pray she hasn't been affected by your stupidity."

"It's not my fault, man. I mean it is but I'm freaking out, okay? Can you try not to be so... sassy?"

Kurt sighed. "Fine. Knock next time and we won't have a problem."

xxx

Finn ducked into the choir room the next day to find Buffy and Tina sitting in there, talking over a box of blood red roses.

"Uh, Buffy?" he said, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

Buffy and Tina looked over, a familiar glazed expression washing over their faces.

"Finn..." Buffy said, slowly looking him up and down, "Can I help you?"

"Can _I _help you?" Tina asked eagerly.

"It's fine, Tina, go take a walk. Finn wants to see me," Buffy smiled, standing to greet Finn.

"Well, maybe he has a problem that can fixed with some logical thinking."

"Sorry, Tina, it's more likely that he had a problem that can be worked out by someone a little more _physical_."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Finn backed away and sprinted down the hallway while the girls argued amongst each other. He rushed to find Mr. Schuester's office and slammed the door closed behind him, making the teacher look up in surprise.

"Finn, what's wrong?" Mr. Schue raised an eyebrow.

"I made a mess, Mr. Schue."

"What are you talking about?"

"I was hurt, I guess, so I went to your ex-wife a-and we did a spell. A love spell. But it backfired. And now every girl in Lima is obsessed with me which would sound great on paper, but-"

Emma walked into the office in a yellow cardigan. "Hey, Will... Finn, hi. Have you been working out?"

Will clenched his jaw and walked over to Emma, grabbing her by the wrist and standing in front of her, looking livid.

"I can't believe you would do something so stupid," Will shook his head at Finn.

"I know," Finn sighed, "I'm a huge jerk. I just want to fix this."

"Has Terri tried to reverse the spell?"

"I get near Nurse Delmonico and all she wants to do is make honeymoon plans."

"Will, maybe I should talk to Finn alone," said Emma.

"Do you have any idea how serious this is?" asked Will, "People under the influence of love spells are deadly, Finn, and if _every _girl in town is in infected, then... _don't _leave this office. I'll go talk to Terri and see if she can stop this thing."

Will left the office, pulling Emma along with him. Finn sat opposite Mr. Schuester's desk and put his hands to his temples. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen and now it was all a huge mess. All he'd wanted to do was make Rachel feel how she'd made him feel. Now he didn't even want that anymore. He spun around as he heard the door open and Ms. Holliday stepped in, smirking in nothing but a black raincoat tied tightly at the waist with a belt and a pair of black heels.

"Ms. Holliday," Finn panicked, "You're gonna give me a heart attack."

"Oh, I'll give you more than that," Holly smirked seductively.

"For the love of God, don't open that raincoat."

"Come on, Hudson," she smiled, playing with the belt strap, "I'm a Sex-Ed teacher. And I think it's time you had your first lesson."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Finn groaned as Rachel stormed in looking annoyed.

"Finn, what is going on?" she demanded, hands on hips, "Quinn called me last night in tears saying _you _did something to upset her."

"What? No," Finn shook his head, "This is all a huge misunderstanding."

"Yeah, Rachel," Holly scoffed, "Finn is done playing with you little girls. He needs a real woman now."

"Excuse me?" Rachel wrinkled her nose, "Ms. Holliday... what are you doing?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Just _go_, Rachel. Finn is so over you now."

"Finn! There you are!" Quinn strode into the office looking serious.

"This isn't happening," Finn groaned, "You all need to _leave_."

"I'm not leaving until you explain yourself," Quinn frowned, "I thought what we had was special."

"What? Quinn, what are you talking about?" Rachel frowned.

"Stay out of this, Rachel," Quinn sighed, "This is between Finn and I."

"Would you two get out of here?" Holly rolled her eyes, "There are plenty of fish in the sea and Finn has prime bait. You two are just a pair of guppies."

Rachel's mouth dropped open. "_What _is going on?"

"_We _are going on," said Quinn, "Finn and I are back together."

"What?!" Rachel exclaimed dubiously.

"No, you are not!" yelled Holly, "Finn loves _me_."

Rachel looked at Finn, startled. "Finn, what are they talking about?"

"Nothing!" Finn exclaimed, "They don't mean it. This isn't them talking. This isn't real."

Quinn grimaced. "What, so this is just a game to you?"

"Oh, leave him alone!" Holly frowned, "Just yesterday you were telling me you were in love with Rachel!"

Rachel's face fell and she turned to Quinn. "...Is that true?"

"Yeah, so what?!" asked Quinn, "That was before I realized how much Finn meant to me!"

"Quinn, calm down," said Finn, bewildered.

"I'll calm down when you explain yourself! Am I just a toy to you?"

"Yes!" Holly announced, "So just leave him alone, okay?"

"No! You leave him alone! He's mine!"

"No, he's not! Finn, tell her!"

"He doesn't need to say anything! I know what his heart wants."

"I know what you're face wants!"

Holly balled a fist and decked Quinn in the face, making Rachel shriek.

"Stop it!" Rachel screamed, "What is wrong with you?!"

Finn rushed forward and grabbed Rachel's hand. "We have to get out of here!" he yelled and dragged her away through an alarming mass of girls waiting in the hallways, through the crowded parking lot and into his mother's truck.

**Up next: An angry mob and a confession of love...**


	62. The Confession

**a/n: This chapter is very short but my next one will probably be quite long. I hope you like it! Please review.**

Rachel scrambled into the passenger seat of Finn's truck, shoving her seatbelt into its buckle as Finn locked the doors. She gasped as her female classmates rushed towards the car and thudded their fists against the windows.

"Hold tight!" Finn ordered, kicking into gear and backing up the truck, with girls clutching at his door handles and slamming their hands against the rusting metal.

He lurched forward and the girls in front of the car shrieked and parted out of his way, leaving him room to accelerate out of the parking lot and speed down the street.

"Finn, _what_ is going on?!" Rachel demanded, her hands firmly clutching the sides of the leather upholstery.

"I did something really bad," he said, nervously clutching the steering wheel as a mob of angry women disappeared in the rear view mirror.

"I can see that," Rachel huffed, "Why is every girl in school now obsessed with you?"

Finn sighed. "I put a spell on them."

"He sure did."

Finn and Rachel screamed and the car swerved as Piper Saberhagen sat up in the backseat, a lovestruck smile plastered on her face.

"Piper?! How did you get in here?!" Finn yelled.

"It was open," Piper shrugged, "How could I resist? It smells like... peppermints and rose petals."

"That's my mom's perfume!"

"Finn, what do you mean, you put a spell on them?" asked Rachel.

"I didn't mean to," Finn sighed, "I only meant to put the spell on you. That's why I asked for your necklace back, but now I'm thinking that the necklace was what protected you from the spell."

Rachel glared at him, her mouth wide open. "Just when I think you couldn't get any lower-"

"I'm _sorry_, and I will apologize a million times when all of this is over, but for right now, we need to hide."

Finn speedily turned the car into Rachel's neighborhood and slammed the brakes as he drove into her front yard, crushing a ceramic gnome. The teenagers rushed out, leaving Piper behind as they ran into Rachel's house and slammed the front door closed, turning every lock.

"I cannot believe this is happening," Rachel sighed irritably as Piper knocked incessantly at the door, calling for Finn.

"Rachel? What's going on?" Hiram came into the hall in a blue argyle sweater, his glasses perched low on his nose, "What is Finn doing here?"

"It's complicated," Rachel sighed, looking between Finn and her father, "Finn needs my help."

"Are you two back together?" Hiram asked skeptically, "LeRoy! Rachel and Finn are back together!"

"What?!" Rachel's dad called from upstairs in the craft room.

"We're not back together, Papa, Finn just needs my help," Rachel explains, just before a rock went flying through the glass square high on the door and Piper reached her pale hand in, grasping with her fingers and trying to feel for something.

"What is going on?" LeRoy asked as he came downstairs.

"Barricade the door!" said Finn, shoving an armoire towards it.

"What? Why? _What_ is going on, Rachel?" asked Hiram as his daughter began to run around the house, turning out lights and closing curtains, "Is this a gang again? Is there still a problem with PCP in this town? Is Finn some sort of _drug dealer_?"

"Dad, no!" Rachel groaned, "This is... _something else_."

"I told you!" LeRoy said to Hiram, wide-eyed, "_Vampires!_ Melissa was right-"

"It's not vampires," Rachel shook her head, "It's... well, it's girls."

"Why are girls attacking our house?" asked Hiram, raising his hands to his hips. 

"They want to attack Finn," Rachel frowned, "Just, please, it's hard to explain. Come upstairs!"

As night fell, the four of them remained in Rachel's pink and yellow room. It wasn't nearly as vibrant as it usually was with all of the lights turned out. Rachel's portable television gave off a dim light and a muffled noise as they all quietly watched _My Fair Lady_, their heads swivelling to the door and window every few minutes.

"I think this might be an overreaction," Hiram sighed at the edge of Rachel's bed, "It doesn't sound like anyone is out there. Only that blond girl outside knows that Finn is here, and she hasn't left the porch in hours."

Finn stood up and opened the curtains to see the darkening blue of the early night sky. He cracked open the window and stuck his head out.

"I don't see anyone..."

He gasped as hands grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him through the window, onto the narrow side-roof. Rachel screamed from inside as Finn struggled against the hands of his captor and turned to see Santana grinning down at him.

"Don't worry, baby. Mommy's home," she smiled devilishly.

Finn whimpered as another figure appeared at his other side, dressed all in black.

"His face is like a poem," the dark-haired woman said in her cockney accent, "I can read it..."

"How do you feel about eternal life, sweet cheeks?" asked Santana.

"Eternal life with _me_."

"We can share, Dru."

Drusilla smiled eagerly, as if she liked that idea. The vampires, with their hands all over Finn, turned at the sound of hostile shouts. Girls ran forward in the street, their eyes set on Rachel's house.

"There he is!" Quinn shouted as she rushed near, leading the mob of women.

"Get him!"

"He's mine!"

As the vampires heads were turned, Rachel and her dads pulled Finn back to safety and shut the windows, drawing the curtains and retreating into the dark, still hearing the angered shouts.

"Finn, what are we going to do?!" Rachel asked, frightened.

"Mr. Schue will figure something out," Finn said uncertainly.

xxx

Mr. Schuester leaned over Terri's spellbook. The building had been completely emptied before school was even over thanks to Finn and the only people left were Will, accompanied by a distracted Terri and Emma. He shook his head at the text, frustrated.

"You must have botched the ritual so that Rachel's necklace protected her from the spell. I think it should be reversible."

"Why did you send Finn away?" asked Emma, standing by the door with a hardened look on her face, "He needs me."

"That's a laugh," Terri rolled her eyes, sitting opposite Will's desk.

"He loves me. We can look into each other's souls."

"No-one can love two people at once. What we have is real."

"Instead of making me sick, do you think you two could lend a hand?" asked Will, annoyed.

"You don't understand what I'm going through!" Terri snapped.

"I know it's not love," said Will, leaning over the desk and staring intensely at Terri, "It's obsession. Selfish, banal obsession. Finn is in danger and if you really cared about him you'd help me save him. Now, let's get to work."

xxx

Rachel and Finn struggled to shove every piece of heavy furniture into the hallway to barricade the front door, as Rachel's dads did the same to the door to the garage at the back of the house. Rachel and Finn tried to pull a bookcase out of its place in the living room when flames erupted from the hall. Smoke rose as Quinn rushed in, fire smoldering in her hands.

"Quinn!" Rachel gasped.

"I should have known I'd find you with her!" Quinn glared at Finn as other girls crowded behind her.

"Quinn, come on, you don't want to hurt me," Finn shook his head.

"Why not? You hurt me. I loved you. And now I'd rather see you dead than with that bitch."

Quinn rose her fiery hands but was knocked over by some cheerleaders behind her who were grasping for Finn. Rachel's clutched Finn's arm and ran with him to the back of the house.

"Run!" she yelled to her fathers as the girls voices were loudly approaching behind them.

They escaped to a door to the Berry's carpeted, renovated basement, locking the door behind them. Rachel ran to stand on top of the couch to reach a small, square window near the ceiling.

"Finn?" a voice called from behind the basement door, "Finn? It's okay, it's me. Ms. Pillsbury. Finn, open the door."

"Maybe I can crawl through and find help," said Rachel, opening the tiny window.

"Rachel, don't, it's dangerous out there," said LeRoy.

"It's dangerous in here!" she argued, and when she turned back to the window, Snix was kneeling on the grass outside with an evil smile.

"Listen to your daddy, Jew Nose."

Rachel shrieked and slammed the window closed again. "Finn Hudson, if we die in here, I'm going to kill you!"

Finn took panicky breaths. "None of this would have happened if you would've just _talked _to me."

"Excuse me? I'm not the one who embraced the black arts just to get a girl to go out with me!"

A knife ripped through the thin wood of the basement door and Rachel screamed, she, Finn and her fathers moving away towards a dark corner. An arm punched through the glass of the small window and starting grasping at the air. A burst of fiery light came from the door and the women started to pour in. Finn desperately picked up a lamp as a weapon.

"Oh, God," Rachel whimpered at the sight of the furious women and her fathers protectively moved in front of her.

The girls rushed toward Finn and pushed him down, their hands grabbing at him as they tried to shove each other out of the way. Suddenly, there was silence and everyone stopped, their hands paused and their eyes widened. They started to reel back, looking confused and slightly horrified. Finn looked up, cautiously opening one eye, realizing that it must have worked. Mr. Schue must have reversed the spell.

The women looked at each other, bewildered and disturbed. "What...?" Buffy started to say, "What did we...?"

"Boy! That was the best scavenger hunt ever!" Rachel exclaimed, smiling enthusiastically at the confused crowd of women.

xxx

"Scavenger hunt?"

Rachel smiled sheepishly and filled her locker with last period's textbooks. "Buffy's mom seemed to buy it."

"So she says. She's probably repressing some terrifying memories of being attracted to the Taco King," Quinn grinned, "I know I am."

"Well, at least he's back to being only mildly popular."

"There's that," Quinn smirked, "Well, speak of the devil."

Rachel turned to see Finn shuffling towards them, frowning guiltily like a dog who got caught eating out of the cookie jar.

"Uh, Rachel... Can I talk to you?" he asked softly.

"Don't you think you've done enough?" asked Quinn.

"No, it's okay, Quinn," said Rachel, "Could you give us a second?"

Quinn looked disappointed, but nodded quietly. "I'll be in the choir room."

"'Kay," said Rachel and watched Quinn walk off before she turned to Finn, "So..."

"I am so sorry," he sighed.

Rachel shrugged. "At least I wasn't affected. I think every other girl in town is madder at you than I am. I mean, they should be."

"I know, I know. I have a year's worth of grovelling to do, for all of womankind. My mom is the only one who isn't pissed at me. I don't think she even knows what happened. She keeps saying she's been in love with me since the day I was born so..."

Rachel smiled. "Your mom is a sweetheart."

"Yeah... I feel really terrible, Rachel. I shouldn't have ever tried to control you like that, I was just so... angry."

Rachel shook her head. "I never did anything to you, Finn."

"No, I know! I wasn't mad at you, I was just angry because... it's not fair. This stuff never seems to work out for anyone the way they want it to. Love stuff. It's always complicated. People do stupid things and change their minds... I just wanted to love you and you love me back. Simple."

"It's never that simple," Rachel said with a faraway look, "But I accept your apology."

"Thanks," Finn sighed, and removed two gold necklaces from the pocket of his McKinley jacket, "I want you to have these back, if you want them. I get why you wouldn't want the one that says Finn, but you should have the star one. Not 'cause it's from me, but 'cause... it's just really _you_, you know?"

Rachel smiled sweetly and took the small star attached to a gold chain. "Thank you, Finn."

"Alright, well, I gotta go to football practise. We probably won't talk to each other for a while. I know that's how you want it. I think that's how I want it too, now."

Rachel nodded. "It's for the best."

Finn nodded and turned around, walking towards the gymnasium and avoiding the glares of many female classmates. Rachel looked at the small star in the palm of her hand and grasped it tight. She put it into her locker and slung her backpack over her shoulder, heading for the choir room.

Inside, Quinn was reading a Victoria Andrews novel, but she quickly closed it and shoved it into her leather satchel when she saw Rachel enter the room.

"So, what did the knuckle dragger have to say?" she asked snarkily.

"He apologized. Gave me back my necklace and said he'd leave me alone," said Rachel, taking a seat next to the blonde.

"Sounds like a ruse to make himself seem sensitive," Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I think he was sincere. He learned a lesson."

"Well, a mob of murderous girls will do that to you."

"So, you remember everything that happened?"

Quinn paused, her face flushing. She looked earnestly at Rachel. "Yeah. I do."

Rachel sighed calmly. "Quinn... I had no idea you felt that way."

"I think I did a pretty good job of hiding it."

"Why? Why wouldn't you just tell me?"

"I didn't want to make things weird. We were just starting to become real friends. I didn't want to ruin that and I didn't want to pressure you into... reciprocating." 

Rachel looked sadly down at the linoleum floor. "I really wish you would have told me."

"Why? What would be the point?" Quinn sighed.

"Quinn... You've been the queen bee since freshman year. I used to hate you. But the second you started to change, I dropped all of our past baggage and got on board with being your friend."

"Yeah... I always thought it was because you're crazy."

Rachel smirked. "Perhaps. But more so because... Quinn, I have had a crush on you for as long as I can remember."

Quinn looked at Rachel's genuine expression, surprised. "You have?"

"Yes!" Rachel smiled, "Everything about you, I admired in a way I've never felt for anyone else. Your voice, your eyes, your smile... I wanted to be your best friend just to be close to you, and never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that someone like you would have feelings for someone like me."

"Rachel..." Quinn started to say, but her face flushed red and she couldn't get the words out.

"But," Rachel sighed, "With everything that has happened with Finn, I haven't had any time to get over him. And now that he's agreed to back off, I finally have the time I need to mourn for our relationship and finally get him out of my mind, in positive and negative ways. And purging myself of Finn Hudson is not something I can do while dating someone else. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

Quinn nodded and inhaled deeply. She'd expected to be disappointed by this news, but she wasn't. Just the fact that Rachel liked her back was more than she'd ever anticipated.

"I had no idea."

"Neither of us did," Rachel smiled, "But... Quinn, I really like you. I always have. I don't want to wait too long and lose the chance to be with you."

Quinn looked down at her lap, nodding and smiling. "I can wait."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You can?"

"Rachel... I don't need a big commitment or a grand gesture. It's enough for me just to know that you and I are possible. And I don't want to rush you. Whenever you're ready, so am I."

Rachel smiled sweetly at Quinn, leaned over and gave the girl a gentle peck on the cheek. "Thank you."

**Up next: A game of cat and mouse and a crime of passion...**


	63. The Last Straw

**a/n: This chapter isn't as long as I thought it would be, but I hope you like it anyway.**

**TW: character death.**

_Passion. It is born and though uninvited, unwelcome and unwanted, like a cancer it takes root. It festers, it bleeds, it scabs, only to rupture and bleed anew. It grows, it thrives, until it consumes. It lives, so it must die, in time._

_- 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'_

Buffy woke up to a comfort blanket of sunshine over her room on a sunny spring morning. She groaned wearily and stretched under her heavy blankets. She squirmed in the bed and turned around to see a brown envelope sitting on the pillow next to her. She furrowed her brow and sat up in bed, her blonde hair wildly curling around her shoulders.

She opened the envelope and unfolded a sheet of parchment paper to reveal a dark charcoal sketch. The picture was an accurate and lovingly rendered image of Buffy sleeping with her head on a white pillow. The picture wasn't signed; not even an initial. But Buffy knew who the artist was.

xxx

"She was in my room."

Will looked up from writing their Regionals setlist on a yellow legal pad on the surface of Brad's piano in the choir room. The other scoobies - Tina, Rachel, Mike, Sam and Quinn - looked up from their friendly conversation to see Buffy's hardened face.

"Who?" asked Will.

"Santana. She was in my room last night," she said, the charcoal drawing in her hand.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. When I woke up, I saw this."

Buffy handed him the drawing of her likeness and Will swallowed, worried.

"I thought vampires couldn't come in unless you invited them," said Mike, as the others stood to peer at Buffy's drawing.

"If you invite them once, they're always welcome," Tina said gravely.

"There has to be some kind of spell to reverse the invitation," Quinn suggested.

"Yeah," Rachel nodded her head in agreement, "Some sort of 'no shoes, no pulse, no service' thing?"

"I could check my books."

"It looks like Santana's at least being subtle about harassing you," said Sam.

"The roses, the picture..." Buffy shook her head, "It's almost worse this way. All I can do is wonder when she's going to attack."

"She's vindictive," Quinn nodded, folding her arms, "It's in her nature. Santana was always pretty clever about her snarkiness, but now that she doesn't have a soul... It's a classic battle strategy. I saw it all the time on the cheerleading squad."

"So Santana is harassing Buffy with cheerleader mind games?" Mike raised an eyebrow, "I hate high school."

"She's trying to provoke you," Quinn continued.

"Santana told me that when Angel was a vampire, he was obsessed with Drusilla. He killed her family just to drive her insane," frowned Buffy, "I have to tell my mom, Will. I have to tell her the truth."

"What? You can't do that!" Will exclaimed.

"I have to do _something_. Santana has an all-access pass to my house and I can't always be there to protect my mom."

"I'll look for a spell," said Quinn.

"What about until you find a spell?"

"Buffy, you have to stay level-headed throughout all of this," said Will.

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have Snix lurking in your bedroom at night."

"I know this is hard for you but as a slayer, you do not have the privilege of being a slave to your passions. You can't let Santana get to you. You have to stay calm and go about your business. Normal things like school and friends and glee club."

"So basically your advice is to just ignore her and hope she goes away."

Will nodded. "Pretty much. And that includes finding two more people to perform at Regionals with us."

"Maybe Dave Karofsky can help," said Sam, who sighed when the others looked at him, "He's had a change of heart lately. I think he'll want to help."

"Well, then maybe Morgan Ru can help, too," Quinn shrugged, "How many times have you guys saved her life?"

"Great," Will clapped his hands together, "You guys try to recruit people and I will try to work out the kinks in this setlist."

Will straightened his pages against the piano and left the choir room as the bell rang, tension building in his shoulders.

"Well, hello stranger," Emma said sweetly, stepping into line with him in the hallway as students disappeared into their classrooms, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"Sorry," Will smiled apologetically, "Things have been awfully busy, with this whole Santana thing."

"It sounds bad."

"It is. She was in Buffy's bedroom. We're going to have to find a spell to un-invite her."

"Oh no. Are you going to drop out of Regionals?"

"No. I told Buffy that she needs to go about her business and not let Santana get to her, so I have to practise what I preach."

"Well, that's a good idea. I'm looking forward to chaperoning with you. I just hope I can finish all this paperwork before the competition."

"Well, the first group goes on at nine, so I'll pick you up at your apartment at eight. I just wish I didn't have to use glee club competitions to get some quality time with you. Being a watcher takes up so much of my life and I care about Buffy more than I could ever have imagined, but I always remind myself how hard it was growing up with a watcher as parent. It was watcher first, mother second. I don't even know where wife came into the arrangement. I don't want my life to be that way. I want to have a real family someday."

Emma smiled. "You're a very caring person, Will. That's what I love about you."

Will stopped walking and widened his eyes at Emma.

"Oh, did I just say that?" she blushed, "I-I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine," Will smiled, "I love you too."

xxx

Buffy ran a fork through her mashed potatoes in parallel lines like a starchy zen garden.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Joyce asked bluntly from across the dining room table.

"It's nothing," Buffy shrugged.

"Come on, you can tell me anything. I've read all of the parenting books, so you can't shock me."

Buffy bit her bottom lip. "You know my friend Santana?"

"Yeah."

"Right. Well, she's... and I'm... We're sort of dating."

Joyce looked up from her dinner plate, her eyes widening and her face remaining stiff, clearly shocked but trying not to show it.

"Oh," she said, her mouth a perfect circle, "I didn't know you... I didn't know she... I mean..."

"Are you mad?"

"No!" Joyce stressed, raising her hands, "Not mad. Um... surprised. But, you know, I read about this all the time. Experimentation a-and... A-Are you... you know? No, never mind, we don't have to put a label on it. Love is love."

"We're not dating anymore," Buffy said quickly, "We're kind of going through a serious off again phase right now, so..."

"Okay," Joyce nodded, "Well, same sex relationships aren't that different than opposite sex relationships and we live in an advanced era... I just mean that you can talk to me about your relationships. I know I'm your frumpy old mom, but I also have a lot of experience in heartbreak."

Buffy smiled skeptically. "Well, things are different lately for Santana and I."

"Let me guess; she's changed. She's not the person you thought you fell for."

"In a nutshell. Anyway, ever since she... changed... she's kind of been following me around. Having a little trouble... letting go."

"Buffy, is she bothering you?"

"No. She's just been hanging around... a lot. Leaving me notes and... I just don't want to see her right now. I mean, if she shows up I'll talk to her but just don't invite her in."

xxx

Rachel had her cell phone tucked in between her ear and her shoulder as she closed her laptop and slid off the bed, clad in pink pyjamas.

"I agree with Mr. Schuester. You can't let Santana get to you. She's only trying to get you to do something reckless. People can be truly vindictive sometimes. Dead or alive," she said as she closed her curtains.

"I just hope Quinn can find a 'keep out' spell soon. I know I'll sleep easier when I can... sleep easier," Buffy said on the other line.

Rachel pursed her lips and removed a blue box of fish food from her desk drawer. She badly wanted to tell Buffy that Quinn was conspiring with Shelby to find a spell to restore Santana's soul, but Quinn had expressed that that was confidential. She didn't want to get Buffy's hopes up in case they never found a spell that would work.

"I'm sure Quinn will find something," she said as she absentmindedly tapped fish food into her miniature aquarium, noticing a rectangle of brown paper on her desk, "Just try to be positive and..."

Rachel dropped the fish food and moved towards the desk.

"And... what? ...Rachel?" Buffy asked on the other line.

Rachel put down the phone and picked up the brown envelope. She slid it open and reached inside the pull out a long, gold chain. She furrowed her brow and continued to pull out the long chain, only to see it connected to four dead tropical fish.

Rachel gasped and dropped the chain of fish. She spun around to see her aquarium was empty, with soggy fish food bits floating at the top.

xxx

"Spike, love, I've brought something for you."

Spike frowned, brooding in the shadows of his lair, his hands rested on the metal arms of his wheelchair. His eyes moved to Drusilla, who was walking into the room with a sweet smile on her face and a small puppy in her hands.

"Poor thing," Drusilla smiled down at the small Labrador, "Her owner died. Didn't even put up a fight. Do you like her, Spike? I brought her especially for you, to cheer you up."

She knelt in front of Spike, holding the puppy up to him, her smile full of sharp white teeth. "I've named her Sunshine. Open wide..."

Spike turned his head, glaring at the wall.

"Come on, love. You need to eat something to keep up your strength. Now open for mummy..."

"I won't have you feeding me like a child, Dru!" Spike snapped.

"Why not? She already bathes you, carries you around and changes your diapers," Snix smirked, slinking in the room in a skintight, blood red dress.

Drusilla's face lit up as she stood, the puppy cuddled in her arms. "My angel! Where have you been? The sun is almost up and it can be so hurtful. We were worried."

"No, we weren't," Spike said flatly.

"Forgive Spike. He's a bit testy tonight. Doesn't get out much anymore."

"Maybe next time I'll bring you with me, Spike," Snix smiled, "You'll be handy if I ever need a really good parking space."

"Have you forgotten that you're a bloody guest in my bloody home?!" Spike roared, clenching his pale fists.

Snix's mouth hung open wide in staged shock. "Well, Spike, I had no idea you felt this way. Listen, if there's anything I can do to put my services to good use, I'll do it. I mean, anything at all to keep you guys satisfied. Any of your duties I can attend to while you're spinning your wheels," she said, smiling deviously as she moved to Drusilla and slid her hands over the woman's shoulders, "Well, anything that I'm not _already _doing."

"That's enough!" Spike snapped, "You know what you can do? You can get rid of the bloody slayer instead of traipsing around, killing her friends' bloody goldfish!"

Snix rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth, moving away from Drusilla to kneel in front of Spike with an intense glare.

"They weren't goldfish. They were angelfish. Very expensive. And that's the difference between you and me, Spike. You go for shock value. You burst into the orchestra with a thundering drum solo. Me? I'm into the art of it all. The slow crescendo of violins that build up to the beautiful clashing of cymbals. I have subtlety. Grace. One time, a girl on my cheerleading squad called me a slut behind my back, and did I tell everyone at school that she was a closeted necrophiliac? No. I got me and my friends to stare at her forehead every time we talked to her and finally she got so insecure about her skin that she got a chemical peel and showed up to school one day looking like Freddy Krueger. _That's_ evil."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, chemical peels. What was I thinking? You know all about torture at its finest."

"Don't patronize me, Spike. I know what I'm doing. It starts this way. I draw a portrait, I skewer a fish, I leave my message, and when Buffy can't take the small tokens of affection anymore... I'll rip her throat out, eat her heart and use her tendons to floss my teeth."

xxx

The Magic Box was a small corner store in downtown Lima. The letters were fading and people were seldom in there, but somehow the store had survived since Shelby's childhood. She walked inside and towards the cluttered counter, jars of amber-colored gels and things woven from bright, white unicorn hair covered the shelves. Ornaments carved from bone were behind glass cases and black wax candles flickered in every crevice.

A small, mustached man appeared from the shadows behind the counter with a label-maker in hand. "Welcome," he smiled, "How may I serve you today? Love potion? Perhaps a voodoo doll for that unfaithful-"

"I need an orb of Thesulah."

The man dropped his smile. "Oh, you're in the trade. Follow me," he said, and came out from behind the counter, walking Shelby to the back room, "Sorry about the spiel. After Valentine's Day I get a lot of tourists looking for love potions and mystical revenge on old lovers. As sad as it is, ouija boards and voodoo dolls are what pay the rent."

They walked into the neat, uncluttered backroom. "So how'd you find out about us?"

"I used to come here as a teenager," said Shelby, "When I first started dabbling."

The man pulled a box from a shelf and removed its lid to reveal a blue, crystal globe inside. "There you go, one orb of Thesulah. Spirit vault used in Rituals for the Undead. Nasty people, the undead. Love to shoplift. Insist on haggling.

Shelby took the box in her hands and handed over her credit card.

"There hasn't been a high demand for those lately," said the shopkeeper as he led her out of the backroom and to the checkout counter, "Sold a couple as paperweights last year. By the way, you do know that the transliteration annals for the Rituals of the Undead were lost."

"Yes, I know."

"I only bring it up because I have a strict no refund policy."

"It's okay. I've been trying to get my computer to render the Romanian liturgy to English."

"I'm not much for computers myself," the shopkeeper shook his head, handing her her credit card back, "By the way, it's none of my business, but what are you planning to conjure up if you do decipher the text?"

"I want to give someone a present," said Shelby, taking the orb from its box and holding it in her hand.

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna give 'em?" he asked.

Shelby stared into the orb as it began to glow. "A soul."

xxx

"The ritual is fairly basic," Quinn explained, removing wooden crosses and bottles of holy water from Buffy's duffel bag, "Recitation of a few rhyming couplets, burning of moss herbs, hanging of crosses, sprinkling of holy water."

"Luckily, these are all things I had lying around at my house," Buffy smiled.

"I'm going to have a hard time explaining this to my dads," Rachel shook her head, standing next to her pink bed and watching Quinn remove a plethora of items.

"You really think this'll bother him?" asked Buffy, a hammer and nails in her hand.

"Hiram Berry's only daughter nailing crucifixes to her bedroom wall? I used to have to go to Kurt's house just to watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' every year."

"I see your point."

"I'm just glad we're doing this. It's hard not to feel safe in my own home. I mean, I only had Santana in here once, to wait in the hall while I got ready when you guys picked me up on Halloween."

"I remember," Quinn nodded, "Let's get started."

She picked up the empty duffle bag and put it down on the floor, revealing a brown envelope that was lying, crisp, on the bedspread. The three girls stared down at it, each one grim. Quinn picked it up and looked down at a name that had been scrawled on the front.

"It's for you," she said, handing it to Buffy.

Buffy tentatively opened the envelope with shaking hands and found another charcoal drawing inside. This time, the portrait was of an older woman with curly hair, napping on a couch. Buffy's blood ran cold. "Mom."

xxx

Joyce turned into the driveway at night, a small grocery bag on the passenger's seat. As she drove up to her house, her headlights swept over Santana. Joyce gasped and slammed on the brakes. The girl was just standing there on the driveway with an eerie smile on her face.

"Oh my God," Joyce caught her breath as Santana came near and opened the door for her, smiling politely.

"Mrs. Summers, I have to talk to you," she said.

Joyce frowned sternly and got out of the car. "Buffy told me she wants you to leave her alone."

"I can't do that," she said, following Joyce as she walked towards the porch.

"You're scaring her."

"You have to help me. Joyce, you can convince her to be with me. You have to."

Joyce reached into her pocket and fumbled for the keys to the house. "You need to leave her alone."

"Tell her I need her. She'll listen to you."

"Please, I just want to get inside."

Joyce removed her keys, but they dropped from her shaking hands and clattered on the porch. She kneeled down just as Santana did, both of them nose to nose.

"You don't get it, Joyce. I'll die without Buffy. And she'll die without me."

"Are you threatening her?" Joyce stood and jammed the keys into the front door, "I'm calling the police."

"I haven't been able to sleep since the night we made love. I need her."

Joyce's mouth hung open, floored, as she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She turned back towards Santana, her eyes wide. Santana walked forward but an invisible shield kept her from crossing the threshold. Joyce turned to see Buffy walking downstairs with burning sage in her hand and Quinn approaching behind her.

"...his verbes, consenus rescissus est," Quinn read from a withered page.

Buffy breezed past Joyce and faced Santana with a hardened expression. "Sorry, Snix. I've changed the locks."

xxx

The next day, Quinn curled her hair in front of the bathroom mirror and tapped her foot impatiently, listening to the sound of Beth gurgling in the hall. Jesse leaned against the frame of the open door with Beth balanced on his hip.

"That is the most horrendous shade of blue," he said, looking Quinn up and down in her electric blue dress and thick black boots and black leggings.

"Regionals was kind of rushed this year," Quinn admitted, "What with... everything."

"Well, have fun with it, anyways."

"Are you sure I shouldn't stay? I mean, Shelby's finally onto something and I should be here to help. Besides, if I go, I'm just going to have to listen to Morgan Ru complaining on the bus there and the bus back and it's not like I'm a vital part of any of the routines-"

"Your group needs twelve members, right?"

"Well, yeah-"

"So if you don't go, the team has to forfeit."

"Yeah..."

"You should go. Shelby, Sofia, Beth and I will be fine here. I'll call you if she finds anything substantial with that orb."

"Okay," Quinn sighed and nodded reluctantly, "Wish me luck."

xxx

The only light in the school that was left on was the one in Emma Pillsbury's office, shining over the stacks of paperwork she had left to do. Evaluations, notes to parents, recommendations for therapists. The mortality rate in Lima had never been a good one and a lot of people needed consoling. She heard the quiet clap of a footstep and looked up to see Santana.

"Santana!" Emma gasped, "How did you get in here?"

"I was invited..." she smiled sinisterly, "The sign in the front of the school? 'Enter all ye who seek knowledge'. What can I say? I'm a knowledge seeker."

"Buffy isn't here."

"I'm not here to see Buffy. She's not up for company right now."

Emma trembled and stood up from the chair behind her desk. "I don't have anything that you want."

"I'm not here to take anything, Ms. Pillsbury," Santana simpered sweetly and walked to the desk, leaning against it so that Emma could feel her breath.

"What do you want?" she trembled.

"I want to give Buffy a message."

At lightning speed, Santana reached her hands over to Emma's neck and twisted, feeling it snap. She let go of the redhead and she fell to the floor, lifeless.

"I never get tired of doing that."

xxx

Buffy spread blue shadow on her eyelids with a wide makeup brush in front of her vanity mirror. She stiffened as she felt her mother staring at her from the door. Buffy set down her brush and turned to see her mother's concerned expression.

"That stuff with the herbs and the Latin, that was... she's just really superstitious."

"Oh."

"I figure if we're careful not to-"

"Was she the first? No, wait, I don't want to know. At least, I don't think I-"

"Yes. She was the first. I mean, the only."

Joyce clenched her jaw. "She's obviously not very stable, Buffy. I wish you'd have shown better judgement."

"Mom, she wasn't like this before."

"Are you in love with her?"

"Mom-"

"No, you don't get to 'Mom' me, Buffy. You had sex with a girl you didn't even see fit to tell me you were dating. Were you... ashamed?"

"Mom, no, I just... it just happened."

"It just _happened_?"

"It was a mistake."

"Don't just say that to shut me up, Buffy."

"Mom, my life is... I can't tell you everything."

"How about _anything_, Buffy? You can shut me out of your life, I'm pretty much used to it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop caring about you. I love you more than anything in the world."

Buffy looked down at her hands, quiet.

"That would be your cue to roll your eyes and tell me I'm grossing you out," said Joyce.

"You're not. I'm glad."

"Well, I guess that was the talk."

"How did it go?"

"I don't know, it was my first."

"Well, what did you tell Grandma when you-"

"Nothing! I don't think she _knows_."

xxx

Will straightened the tie that went neatly with his suit and jumped up the steps to Emma's apartment, two at a time. In the darkness, he spotted a red rose stuck to the doorknob and smiled. He lifted it and brought it to his nose, smelling its fresh scent. He opened the door and was only faced with darkness inside.

"Hello? Emma?" he called, and flipped the light switch.

Her apartment was the same cutesy, clinically clean space as it always was, but it was disturbingly silent. Was she still at the school, finishing paperwork?

"It's me," he called again.

He looked around and his eye caught the sight of a champagne glass chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table next to two long stemmed flute glasses. He smiled nervously and saw a small square of paper that simply said 'Upstairs'. He picked up the piece of paper and slowly walked up the staircase. Candles flickered along the stairway and rose petals were strewn on the landing. He glanced at his watch. 8:07.

He opened Emma's bedroom door to see soft lighting and a bump under the clean bedsheets. A mess of red hair poked out at the top and at the bottom, her dainty feet stuck out. He opened his mouth but the words got caught in his throat when he noticed Emma's feet were still and slightly blue and when he turned up the dimmer switch, he saw blood spilling over the side of the bed.

xxx

"So, was it horrible?"

Buffy and the rest of the New Directions shivered outside the school next to an empty bus that Mr. Schuester was supposed to drive.

"It wasn't too horrible," Buffy shrugged as she stood next to Tina, rubbing her own arms and thinking about 'the talk' she'd had briefly with her mother, when her phone buzzed in her purse.

She took out her cellphone and saw Will's name blinking on the screen. "Hello?" she answered.

"Buffy?" Will replied.

"Will! Where are you? Morgan's close to ditching-"

"Emma... Ms. Pillsbury... She's been killed."

Buffy's face fell and a ball formed in her throat so that she couldn't speak.

"Buffy?" Tina raised a worried eyebrow at her friend's crestfallen face, "What's wrong...?"

Buffy dropped the phone and Tina quickly picked it up and pressed it to her ear as the other glee clubbers fell silent, sensing the disturbance. "Mr. Schuester...?" Tina answered.

"Tina... Santana killed Emma."

"What?" Tina gasped in anguish, "No..."

"Tina?" Mike called.

"Oh my God, what's wrong?" Rachel asked the girls, alarmed.

It wasn't long until the teenagers had piled into each other's cars and were speeding to Mr. Schuester's apartment, and then to Ms. Pillsbury's when they couldn't find him. Mike spilled out of his car with Buffy, Tina, Rachel and Quinn, and Dave Karofsky's Hummer pulled up with the other seven in it.

"Is he here?" asked Sam as they got out of the car.

"We didn't check yet. He wasn't at the station?" asked Buffy.

"The cops said he already left by the time we got there," said Puck.

"I don't get it," said Artie as Mercedes helped him out of the truck, "Why Ms. Pillsbury? She was so... harmless."

"Because Santana's a blood-sucking coward. They pick on the harmless," Mike said harshly.

"And we're sure it was Santana?" asked Sam.

"It was Santana alright," Buffy said certainly.

"Why would Santana Lopez kill someone?" Piper Saberhagen squeaked.

"There's a lot you guys don't know," Buffy said simply, her eyes darting from Piper to Dave, "But we don't have time to explain."

"Is Ms. Pillsbury going to, you know... _change_?" asked Mercedes.

"No," said Buffy, "Come on, let's see if he's inside."

Led by Buffy, they raced up the steps to Ms. Pillsbury's apartment, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape. Buffy pushed open Ms. Pillsbury's already slightly ajar front door and poked her head in.

"Hello...? Will...?" she called.

Buffy stepped into Ms. Pillsbury's impossibly clean apartment, followed by the others who were unusually quiet. They started to fan out, looking around. Rachel's eyes floated over the ice bucket of champagne, the scattered rose petals and the champagne flutes.

"It looks like they had plans for the night," said Tina.

"Will didn't set this up," Buffy said coldly, "Santana did. This is the pretty wrapping paper she put Ms. Pillsbury's body in."

"Poor Mr. Schuester," Brittany said sadly.

"He's not here," said Quinn.

"He'll be wherever Santana is," Buffy realized.

"He's going to try to kill her?" Brittany asked quietly.

"It's about time somebody did," said Mike.

"Mike!" Tina snapped.

"I'm sorry, but things have gotten pretty twisted lately," said Mike, "And if Mr. Schuester wants to go after the fiend who killed his girlfriend, then I say, let him."

"You're right," Buffy said flatly, "There's only one thing wrong with Will's revenge scenario."

"And what's that?" asked Mike.

"It's gonna get him killed."

xxx

"Are you insane?!" Spike yelled as he rolled around the flat space of the lair, "You were supposed to kill the bitch, not leave gag gifts for her friends. If you ask me, I prefer the old Buffy-whipped Santana because the new and improved one is definitely not playing with a full set."

Snix smirked from the opposite side of the long, old dining table, next to Drusilla, who was playing absentmindedly with her puppy. "You didn't like it?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love a good slaughter as much as the next bloke, but your hijinks are only gonna leave us with one incredibly brassed-off slayer."

"Don't worry, rollerboy," Snix smiled, "We don't have anything to worry about. I've got everything under control."

Glass shattered against the table and Drusilla gasped as a roar of flames exploded. Snix jumped back from the Molotov cocktail, and spun around. An arrow suddenly pierced through her shoulder and she grunted loudly, stumbling back in pain. She looked down and pulled the arrow from her shoulder, wincing in pain. She threw it down, a small amount of blood on her hands, and looked up to see Will striding calmly towards her with a Louisville Slugger in his hands and hate in his eyes.

He walked towards the table and stuck the baseball bat into the flames, and rushed over and slammed Snix in the arm with the flaming bat. Snix gasped in pain and fell to the floor, smiling ruefully.

"Whatever happened to wooden stakes?"

Will hit her again in the head, making a bloody gash on her forehead. "They don't hurt enough."

Drusilla made a move to step towards the fight, but Spike calmly gripped her wrist. "Ah, no, no fair going into the ring unless she tags you first."

Will swung his bat and Snix caught it swiftly in her hand. "Okay, you've had your fun, but you know what it's time for now?" Snix shot up and grabbed Will in a chokehold.

Snix felt a hard thud in her kidney and turned to see Buffy standing there, fury on her face.

"Mine," she said and punched Snix again in the face, as Will fell to the floor, unconscious.

Spike and Drusilla escaped into the shadows as the table was engulfed in flames and the fire started to lick at the wooden crates and tall chairs. Snix punched at Buffy and tried to run, but Buffy sprinted forward and kicked at the vampire's legs, tripping her up. Snix spun around and trapped Buffy under her.

"You know, even when I feed off other girls, the name I scream out is always yours," she smiled wickedly.

Buffy eyes were caught by Will, still unconscious in the ground as the flames began to approach him. She punched Snix off of her and jumped up, grabbing Will and dragging him out of the lair. Snix had already fled when Will started to cough and wake up in the cold outside air.

"Buffy!" Rachel called, as she, Tina, Quinn, Sam and Mike ran up to them.

"Are you okay?" asked Tina.

Buffy nodded as Will stood on his own, looking angry.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, annoyed, "This was not your figh-"

Buffy threw a punch and hit Will square in the jaw. "You bastard!" she spat.

"You don't understand-"

"What were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You can't! You can't leave me alone! Not now. I can't do this by myself!"

Will's eyes welled with tears, despair draining the fight out of him. "...Emma."

xxx

The glee club had been invited the funeral. White lilies were everywhere. Quinn sang 'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot'. Emma's crying parents threw fresh dirt into her grave. The entire time, tears were stuck in Will's blue eyes, but they never fell.

"In my years as a watcher, I've buried... too many people," he said to Buffy as they quietly watched the funeral goers slowly walk back to the church after the burial, "Some I knew... most I didn't. Emma was the first one I loved."

"Sometimes I wonder if any good comes of it," said Buffy.

"Comes of what?"

"Falling in love. Letting your emotions call the shots for you. If there's an upside, I've never found it. But you're right about that rule of yours. You're the watcher, I'm the slayer. We don't have to luxury of passion. It just gets in the way. Life is easier without it."

"Yeah. Except without it... it's not life."

Buffy frowned sadly. "I'm sorry I couldn't kill her when I had the chance... but I think I'm finally ready. Because I know now there's nothing that can change her back to the Santana I fell in love with."

_Passion. It drives some to distraction, some to vengeance. Passion is the source of hope and the cause of despair. It is the source of life and the cause of death._

_- 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'_


	64. The Fever Dream

**a/n: I hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**

Shelby stopped herself from audibly groaning at her computer screen. Beth was sound asleep in the square plastic crib set up at the end of the guest bed. Half-transcribed rituals blinked mockingly at her on the monitor. She curled her upper lip and stabbed at the computer's power button until the hum of the machine was silenced. Nothing was more aggravating than getting stuck when you are so close to success, but Shelby reminded herself that there was nothing more satisfying than completing such a momentous challenge.

After all, this was the kind of task she'd dreamt of as a witch, always looking for something more difficult, more powerful. Always strategic, calculating. This wasn't exactly resurrection. This wasn't as dark as that. Not as dangerous as travel between alternate realities or even time travel, were it possible. But it was difficult. A soul, an entity, a collection of magical atoms travelling in the nethersphere, waiting for directions. The thought of it was almost overwhelming.

"Slow night?"

Shelby jumped in the black swivel chair at the guest room's desk. Jesse was leaning at the door, his forearm balanced on the frame, a black t-shirt hugging his arms.

"Why are you always here?" she asked. She hadn't meant it to sound so hostile.

"Quinn needs a friend around," Jesse shrugged.

"Quinn isn't here right now," Shelby frowned.

"Sofia needs a friend, too. Her daughter is, for all intents and purposes, dead."

"Santana isn't dead. She's out there. We're going to help her," Shelby nodded, determined.

"Why?" asked Jesse, narrowing his eyes, "You've never even met Santana. Why do you care so much about saving her?"

Shelby frowned, irritated by the accusation in his voice. Sure, he was bitter. He was a child who had found his first love and she'd dumped him flat. But where did a teenage boy-toy fit in to motherhood? Her family was already dysfunctional. She didn't need a boyfriend old enough to be her son added into the mix.

"You know well enough that I've never said no to a challenge. I'm always looking to develop my craft."

Jesse stared back at her, considering. "So it wasn't a sudden streak of altruism, then?"

Shelby sighed and looked to Beth, whose tiny pink lips were open and whose soft snore could be heard. "Did Quinn tell you I was thinking of moving back to Lima?"

"Yes," Jesse said quickly, "What are you up to?"

"I'm not up to anything," Shelby exclaimed, taken aback, "I want my daughter to know where she came from."

"You want her to learn as much witchcraft as possible. Like, say, from Quinn."

"Quinn's use of witchcraft is petty and directionless, but... she is powerful. Is it so wrong to want Beth to be around powerful women?"

Jesse pursed his lip, unsure of what to say. He knew he was grasping at straws. Shelby wasn't evil. She wasn't even conniving. Manipulative, maybe. Cold, definitely. A part of him hated her, but that was for personal reasons.

"I just don't want Quinn to get hurt," he said. It was partly truthful.

"I don't intend to hurt her, Jesse," Shelby said stiffly, "I intend to help her. I just have to work out some kinks."

"Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"Not exactly. The closest I ever came to something like... soul displacement... was over a decade ago. It was simpler on some levels. And more difficult on others."

"What was it?"

"I had to remove a small segment of a very specific piece of a human soul, which, in itself, was nearly impossible."

"For what?" Jesse asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Shelby looked away, to the night sky outside the window. "To give it to someone else. Someone who supposedly needed it."

"What, like a... soul transplant?" Jesse asked incredulously.

"It doesn't matter. As far as I know, it wasn't successful." She ran a hand through her wild dark hair. "I don't know what I've gotten myself into."

xxx

Buffy's hand gripped the sandy stone wall that closed off a section of the cemetery reserved for wealthier corpses. The sweat on her palms made it more of a struggle to hitch herself over the wall. She swung her legs over and came tumbling down on the freshly mown, dewy grass. As her feet hit the ground hard, her head began to spin. She blinked rapidly and put her hand to the wall, steadying herself.

"Whoa..." she sighed, a hand at her temple. The grass spun beneath her and she waited impatiently for the sickly sensation to stop.

She slid a stake out from her sleeve and held it close to her, pressing her body against the wall. Footsteps approached near the gate and the shadow of a figure got darker as it neared. Buffy blinked tightly and whirled around, raising her stake, ready to plunge.

"Gah!" Buffy gasped, as Angel stepped forward, his broad shoulders level with the top of her head, "Angel!"

"Buffy," he said, broody as ever.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sounding as if her nose was clogged.

"Patrolling," she sighed, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you... You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks."

"That's not what I mean. You look... ill."

"I have the flu."

"You shouldn't be patrolling with the flu."

"I'm fine. The ground's moving around a little bit, but I like it. It's like a ride," she said dizzily, "Besides, I have work to do."

"One night of rest isn't going to kill you."

"Yeah, but it might kill someone else."

"You mean Santana might? I heard about your guidance counselor. I'm so sorry, Buffy."

Buffy frowned. "Why are you here?"

Angel sighed. "I just came back from Fort Wayne, looking for more of the Kalderash clan."

"For what?"

"A solution." He removed a roll of parchment from inside his leather jacket.

"What is that?"

"Romanian rituals. They're used to find mystical objects, such as... souls."

"You think we can find Santana's soul?"

"Perhaps. If we did find it, all we'd need was a way to give it back to her. We'd have to use witchcraft-"

"I don't think so."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... It's too late. Santana has killed too many people and she's not going to stop. My friends and my family are in danger, I can't just..." Buffy put her hand to her mouth and started to cough, "... I can't just wait for some magical..." She began to cough again, arching over.

"Buffy, you need to go home," said Angel, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No," Buffy shook her head and shrugged him, "I'm staying."

"You can't fight anyone like this."

"I'm still the slayer. I have a better chance of fighting off a vamp than anyone else, even sick."

Angel bristled and held out the parchment. "Just take this. Think about it. It might not be too late."

Buffy grabbed the roll of parchment and stuck it in the inside pocket of her jacket. "You should go. Your apartment... can Santana get in?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Angel sighed, "But you don't need to worry about me. I can defend myself against Santana."

"So can I," Buffy brazenly, "I'll see you some other time." Angel hesitated. "Angel, really... go. I'm fine. As long as I'm the slayer, Santana isn't going to kill anyone else."

"Oh, come on, just one more, please!"

Buffy whirled around the see the sharp-toothed vampire facing her in a red minidress and a black leather jacket, looking more fiendish than ever. The vampire pounced over Buffy and pushed down Angel, who sprawled against the ground with a low grunt. Buffy raised her stake but Snix quickly caught her wrist and bent it backwards, eliciting a cry of pain from the slayer until her grasp slackened and she dropped the stake.

"Not feeling so hot, lover?" asked Snix.

Buffy gritted her teeth and swung a left hook that caught Snix's jaw. "That helps."

Snix winced from the pain, but quickly smiled with amusement. "You being off your game is kind of taking the fun out of this." She balled her fist and smashed it into Buffy's face. "Nope, still fun."

The slayer dropped to the ground.

"Uh oh," Snix smiled, "This does not look good for our heroine."

Snix groaned as she felt a hard kick in her kidneys. She dropped to her knees and quickly turned her head to see Angel standing impeccably straight behind her.

"This has to end," he said gravely.

"It will," Snix nodded with a semblance of a smile, "Just not tonight."

She hopped up, impossibly and agile, and jumped the wall, fleeing the cemetery. Angel moved to run after her, but Buffy, sprawled on the grass, caught his eye. Buffy clutched at the ground beneath her and struggled to get up.

"I told you to go... this is my fight..." she sighed and before she could sit up, she collapsed back to the ground, her eyes rolling backwards.

xxx

Quinn threw her arms over the end of Rachel's pink primrose patterned bedspread, kneeling on the carpet and watching with intense interest as Rachel sat cross-legged on top of the bed, pouring over the school's extra-curricular schedule. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were widened, and Quinn couldn't help but notice how cute she looked when she was concentrating. Her room looked like bubblegum had exploded on the walls, and Rachel was Princess Bubblegum, in a skintight pink cardigan with red kisses printed all over the sleeves.

"Quinn, did you hear what I said?" she asked.

Quinn looked up, surprised. "Um... no. Sorry, I was distracted."

"Is everything okay?" asked Rachel, her eyes making perfect circle of concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. What were you saying?"

"Just that it would make sense if everyone in glee club split up into pairs and went classroom to classroom with saltwater taffy to make maximum profit and why are you making that face?"

"What face?"

"That face. You don't like my idea."

Quinn's mouth dropped open in protest. She hadn't realized she'd been frowning distastefully.

"No, it's a great idea, it's just... it might not be enough to keep glee club running for the rest of the semester. I know we're not headed toward a competition, but we still need outfits and permits to perform in public places, and with saltwater taffy being, like, twenty five cents a piece-"

"I know, I know. It's not enough. But what else am I supposed to do? We need glee club, Quinn. It's our outlet. Not to mention our guise for scooby gang meetings."

Quinn nodded thoughtfully and rested her chin on the edge of the bed without saying a word. Rachel sighed and folded the school schedule, tossing the square of paper on her soft maple bedside table.

"I'm a horrible person, aren't I?" she asked mournfully.

"What? No, of course not."

"Ms. Pillsbury just died. Mr. Schuester is devastated and the school is in shambles and here I am, thinking about keeping glee club alive, as if anyone is going to be in the mood for quickly choreographed mash-ups and acoustic versions of beloved 80s songs-"

"Rachel, Rachel, I get it. Of course you want to keep glee club running. It's been the lifeblood of our motley crew group of friends. I know that it's important to you... but, yes, the school has not been in the mood for taffy lately. I think we need to do something more. Something for Ms. Pillsbury."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "Like... a fundraiser?"

"Maybe a concert in the quad," said Quinn, "In memory of Ms. Pillsbury. We can sing some of her favorite songs. Some of the teachers can say a few words..."

"Quinn, that's a great idea!"

"And the proceeds can be split equally between the non-athletic extra-curricular clubs."

Rachel hesitated. "All of them?"

"Yeah. Ms. Pillsbury was always the one to fight the hardest to keep clubs going. She knew we needed something other than the same classes and getting overshadowed by the same hot-headed jocks and cheerleaders. I guess nobody really appreciated her while she was around."

Rachel nodded and picked at her fingernails. "Will that be enough for glee club? I mean, McKinley has a lot of extra-curriculars. There's the Mock UN and the celibacy club and the gaylesball-"

"We'll keep glee club running for as long as we can with the money we raise, but it wouldn't be fair to keep all of the proceeds for New Directions only. Ms. Pillsbury would've wanted us to share it amongst the school."

"I know," Rachel nodded her bowed head.

xxx

"Where is she?"

Joyce Summers sprinted into the emergency room with a large purse hanging from the crook of her elbow and an overcoat almost falling off of her shoulders. Will and Angel stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chairs nailed to the wall.

"Still with the doctors," said Will.

"I want to see her," Joyce said, panicked.

"They won't let us in," said Angel.

Joyce's eyes swivelled to the tall, dark and handsome man beside Will. "Who are you?" she asked, almost accusingly.

"A... friend..." Angel said uncertainly.

"My nephew," Will said quickly.

"Oh..." Joyce said as a man in a long, white lab coat caught her eye.

"Mrs. Summers? I'm Dr. Wilkinson," he introduced himself, with wiry gray hair and thin-rimmed glasses.

"Is Buffy okay?"

"We were able to stabilize-"

"Is she okay?" Joyce stressed.

"She's going to be fine."

Joyce sighed in relief. "Thank God."

"Good," Will nodded, "Good, that's good."

"We should keep her here for a few days, though. She still has some recovering to do."

"How bad is it?" asked Angel.

"Her injuries from the fall were minor. Sprained wrist, a couple of cracked ribs. I'm more concerned about her fever."

"She said she was feeling better this morning," Joyce shook her head, running a hand over her curly blond hair.

"She will be, but she's still suffering from exhaustion and dehydration. You can come see her if you want."

"Of course," Joyce nodded, and she and the men followed Dr. Wilkinson through the eerily quiet, clinical hospital hallways to a room that a few nurses were shuffling out of.

Buffy lay on a gurney in the square emergency room, blinking sleepily, sweat stuck to her forehead.

"Buffy?" Joyce leaned forward, her brow knitted with concern, "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi, Buffy," said Will, with Angel looming over his shoulder.

"Hi..." Buffy sighed, a dozy smile on her lips, "You're here. Are we taking me home?" Buffy's hands grasped at the sides of her gurney and she attempted to hoist herself up.

"Buffy, you need to lie down," said Dr. Wilkinson.

"Yes, lie at home," Buffy protested weakly, "My bed is still better than any bed that's not my bed."

"She's still a little out of it," Dr. Wilkinson mumbled to the others, "She'll feel better after she's been here for a little while."

"No," Buffy frowned, "Let me go."

"Buffy-" Joyce said tentatively.

"Let me go!" Buffy pushed her mother away.

"I need some assistance!" Dr. Wilkinson called out through the door.

Two nurses rushed in, looking weary.

"Will, tell them!" Buffy panicked as the nurses neared her, preparing a syringe, "Tell them! The vampires! I have to fight the vampires!"

"Vampires?" Joyce furrowed her brow.

"She's been like this since she came in," said Dr. Wilkinson.

Will paled. "It must be the fever. It's made her delusional."

"This will help her relax," Dr. Wilkinson assured them as the nurse plunged the syringe into a thin, clear tube running into Buffy's arm as the other held Buffy down by her shoulders.

"Honey?" Joyce frowned, leaning over her daughter.

Buffy struggled to hold her eyelids open. "I want to go home."

Joyce took Buffy's clammy hand. "Everything will be okay, honey. I promise."

"Please don't make me stay. Not here," Buffy murmured as her eyelids dropped.

Buffy fell asleep and the nurses quickly rolled her gurney out of the room.

"I'm not used to seeing Buffy like that," Will shook his head as the three were left in the emergency room with nothing but medical equipment.

"She just hates hospitals. Ever since she was a little girl," said Joyce.

"What happened?" Will asked cautiously.

"When Buffy was eight..." Joyce sighed, stress building in her chest, "Her cousin, Celia, died in a hospital. Buffy was alone with her when it happened. They were very close."

Angel grimaced. "She was eight?"

"She doesn't talk about it, but... she doesn't like hospitals."

"I can't say I blame her," said Will.

"I should call her father."

"I'm sure there's a phone at the nurses' station."

"Thank you for coming. I really appreciate the way you look out for her."

"We're very fond of her," Will nodded.

Joyce paused, her forehead creasing. "I hope I'm not stepping out of line, but... I just wanted to say how sorry I am about the guidance counselor... Ms. Pillsbury. Buffy told me. It's just awful."

Will nodded, trying not to look too pained. He exhaled slowly through his nose. "Thank you," was all he could choke out.

"Buffy's been so upset. She never gets sick."

"I'm sure she'll be okay."

Joyce took Will's hand and squeezed it once. "If you need anything..."

Will nodded. "Thank you."

Angel nervously cleared his throat. "And Buffy will be okay here?"

"I think so. The staff seems competent," Joyce nodded, but Will and Angel shared a look that said they weren't so sure. After all, the hospital was a public building. Anyone could come in.

xxx

Kurt had the windows in the den wide open and let in the light from the pale half moon. He and Blaine faced each other, cross-legged on the shag carpet, their hands entwined. Kurt couldn't hear a single thought, but he did feel a buzz of excitement that he hoped didn't have anything to do with psychic powers.

"You have to feel the energy," he said, his eyes closed, "Take control of it and direct it exactly where you want it to be."

"You sound so professional."

Kurt cracked open one eye to see Blaine staring lovingly at him. "Blaine! You're supposed to have your eyes closed!"

"How am I supposed to close my eyes when you're sitting in front of me?"

Kurt smirked. "You are so cheesy."

"Yeah, totally," Finn came through the door with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a DVD case tucked under his arm, stepping over Kurt and Blaine to get to the TV set.

"Finn, what are you doing?" Kurt wrinkled his nose and let go of Blaine's hands.

"Watching 'Braveheart'," he said simply and slid the disc into the DVD player.

"Can't you watch it somewhere else?" Kurt urged.

"Mom and Burt are watching 'Castle' in the living room. Can't you go to your room to do your psychic stuff?"

"No," Kurt bristled.

Kurt and Blaine weren't allowed to be in his room alone since Burt realized they were spending an excessive amount of time in there.

"Well, tough stuff,bro," said Finn, leaning back in the recliner with the bowl of popcorn on his lap.

Kurt grimaced as Mel Gibson appeared on the TV screen. He gritted his teeth with frustration and the screen suddenly went black in a split second and Finn's bowl of popcorn exploded, sending burnt kernels flying through the den and getting stuck in the carpet and on the top of the ceiling fan. Finn stood straight up, startled.

Blaine widened his eyes at Kurt. "Was that... you?"

Kurt opened his mouth and closed it again, uncertain. "I don't think so..."

"You don't think so?!" Finn demanded.

"Well... I didn't mean to," Kurt frowned.

"I thought all this hand-holding was supposed to help you control that stuff," Finn frowned, "It's just getting weirder!"

"It's not-" Kurt suddenly jerked forward, eerily still, his eyes wide open.

"Kurt!" Finn gasped, "Is... Is he-?"

"He's having a vision," said Blaine, shifting onto his knees.

"Should we wake him up?"

"No, just wait until he's finished."

"Man, this is messed up-"

"Shh!"

Kurt gasped and reeled back, looking ghostly white.

"Kurt, what is it? What happened?" asked Blaine, alarmed.

Kurt swallowed, trying to calm himself. "Death. Death is near."

xxx

Lights appeared inside Buffy's eyelids as she slid around on her hospital bed, fading in and out of consciousness. She turned, her head lolling at its side. She opened her eyes to see a figure standing in the doorway, illuminated by the unflattering fluorescent hospital lights. She blinked and widened her eyes, trying to get used to the light. The figure was a young boy with a blank face, staring at her. As Buffy attempted to lean forward and call out to him, he walked away, silent.

Another taller figure passed by the door, following the boy, disappearing just as Buffy could barely register the dark clothes and the beak-like nose, like a seventeenth century plague doctor. Buffy sat up and winced as she unhooked her IV. She stood up, slightly dizzy, and walked slowly out the door. The hallways were different now. This was a different hospital. Blue panelled walls and thick, orangewood doors; the kind that led to private rooms. This wasn't the kind of expensive, modern hospital they had in small towns like Lima. This was a private hospital for the wealthier families of Beverly Hills.

Buffy was eight. Small, fair-haired and not plagued with the stress of an ugly divorce and an even uglier destiny. Still innocent. She shook under the harshly lit hallway. She could hear moans of pain in the distance, but didn't know where they were coming from. She nervously passed an empty wheelchair and a tray of medical equipment. Everything seemed so menacing through her young, hazel eyes.

Her arms outstretched, Buffy found her way to a room with a dull light coming from the inside. There was a pale green curtain surrounding a hospital bed, closed all the way around. Buffy wrung her hands together and slowly walked toward the curtain. She reached toward it and grabbed a handful of green fabric, pulling it open...

Buffy woke suddenly, her hair matted to her sweat-soaked forehead. She squirmed in bed and strained her ears to hear the faint sound of children crying out in the hallway. She struggled to sit up, steadying herself on the rail of the hospital bed. Something tugged at her arm and she looked down to see the IV still attached. She winced as she unhooked it and steadied herself against the hospital. A cold sweat covered her body and she took a bracing breath before getting up and walking through the door.

The hospital hallways were the same as before. Linoleum tiles, plywood doors, eerily buzzing fluorescent lights. Not the private clinic from her nightmare. The only similarity was the medicinal smell in the air and the feeling of abandonment. Not a nurse working her way through the graveyard shift could be found. The floor was deserted. She was row after row of identical doors, peering through the rectangular windows to see patients snoozing inside, hooked up to ventilators and heart monitors. She turned her head to see an unassuming janitor at the end of a hall, watching her out of the corner of his beady eye, a mop rested in his wrinkled hand.

Buffy shivered and shook her head, slowly continuing down the hall in her bare feet and thin hospital gown, following the unnerving sound of crying. She turned a sharp corner at the end of the hall to see a small group of orderlies clad in pale blue scrubs wheeling a gurney out of a room. A body lay on top, completely still and draped in a white sheet. Buffy hugged the corner of the wall and shrunk back as the orderlies rolled it away. Goosebumps on her arms, Buffy quietly walked forward to the open door of the room inside to see a children's ward.

A dozen or so single beds lined either side of the walls, which had been painted pale yellow and decorated with large plastic stickers of puppies and rainbows and girls playing hopscotch in a failed attempt to give the room some cheer. Secondhand stuffed animals were strewn on the floor, their ears tattered and fluff spilling out of their tails. Buffy stifled a gasp and shrunk against the door when she noticed two doctors inside. One she recognized as Dr. Wilkinson, the stuffy guy who decided to keep her here. The other looked more mad scientist than medical professional, with disheveled black and gray hair.

"I'm just saying that we should step back the dosage until we get the results," Dr. Wilkinson said sternly.

"This isn't the time. I thought that would have been clear by now."

"The normal course of treatment-"

"They aren't responding to the normal course of treatment. They're getting worse." The wiry-haired doctor moved to one of the children's bad and stuck a long syringe into the child's IV.

"Raising their temperatures is potentially-"

"I have the parents' consent."

"Because they're desperate. They don't understand what you're doing."

"If you have a problem with my methods, bring it up with the board."

"I have."

Buffy moved backwards into the darkness of the hallway, afraid of being caught out of her room. She turned and bumped into a young boy, his head of slicked brown hair barely reaching her shoulders. This was the boy from before, she realized, the boy who was standing outside her door. Wait, but wasn't that a dream? Now, he was holding the hand of a younger girl with an equally sallow face.

"He comes at night. The grown-ups don't see him."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "What?"

"He was with Janie. He'll come back for us."

"...Who?"

"Death."

xxx

Buffy's head felt like a bag of cotton balls when she woke up the next morning, Dr. Wilkinson leaning over her.

"Good morning," he said.

She flinched back and blinked in the daytime brightness. "Coulda fooled me..." she groaned.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, flipping through her chart, "Looks like your fever is down."

Buffy grabbed the metal bars on either side of the hospital bed and hoisted herself up. "Good. Thanks for having me. Let's try and keep in touch."

"Not so fast," he frowned. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and grasped her arm. "Hmmm."

"Hm? Bad hm or good hm?"

"Swelling is down... swelling is gone. Does that hurt?"

"Nope."

"Amazing..."

"So I should go."

"Soon. We want to make sure that fever is gone. It's a strong virus."

"Is that what Janie had?"

Dr. Wilkinson blinked at Buffy, clearly startled, when others walked into the room. Will, Tina, Mike, Kurt, Blaine, Quinn and Rachel - carrying a pot of white lilies - came in with nervous smiles on their faces.

"Can we come in?" asked Will.

"Please," Dr. Wilkinson nodded, "Maybe you can keep our patient from bolting."

He nodded to the others and slipped out behind the others after hooking Buffy's chart back to the end of her bed.

"We brought you flowers," Rachel smiled and set the plastic pot down on the bedside table, "We thought it could give your sterile surroundings a touch of class."

"And not to be outdone..." said Tina, pulling a pile of books and loose notes from her black backpack.

"Homework," groaned Buffy.

"Just my way of saying 'get well soon'."

"You know, chocolate says that even better."

"I did all of your assignments. All you have to do is sign your name."

Buffy smiled, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Chocolate means nothing to me."

Quinn removed a small lace pouch from her pocket and placed it on Buffy's lap. "Healing crystals. They're more a good luck charm than a substitute for medical care, but, I had some lying around, so..."

"Thanks, you guys," Buffy smiled, "It means a lot."

"Nobody told me we were bringing gifts," Kurt frowned, "All I brought was my winning smile and a nasty premonition."

"You had a vision?" asked Buffy, sitting up with interest.

"Yeah," sighed Kurt, "I knew you were sick and I wasn't going to bother you about it but... it's bad."

"What did you see?"

"I saw a face. Like a demon or something. He had pale, leathery skin and white eyes with no pupils. He had fangs and a beak nose and this big black hat... I've never seen anything like it, but I knew what it was."

"Death," Buffy confirmed.

"How did you know?"

Buffy groaned. "Let's take a walk."

Will slowly pushed Buffy's wheelchair down the hall as the others followed quietly.

"A girl died here last night," said Buffy, pulling her bathrobe tight around her chest.

"How?" asked Tina.

"Flu."

"Flu?" Mike raised an eyebrow, "That doesn't sound like our division."

"Well, there's this Dr. Backer guy. He's giving the kids experimental treatment. I'm not sure what he's up to but he creeps me out. And then I met this kid, Ryan. He saw something."

"What?" asked Rachel.

"Death!"

"Death?" Rachel frowned, "As in the Death? The grim reaper."

"Buffy, a scared little kid-" started Will.

"But I saw something, too, I think. Like what Kurt described. I mean, I'm pretty sure I was out of it, but I saw-"

"Death?" Quinn frowned, "Did he have a scythe?"

"Or an hourglass?" asked Mike.

"Maybe it wasn't Death," Buffy sighed, frustrated, "Maybe it was something else."

"Or maybe this is just because you're afraid of hospitals and you want to conjure up a monster you can fight so you won't feel so helpless," said Rachel.

"Rachel!" Tina hissed.

"Your mother did mention what happened to your cousin..." Will said softly.

"That doesn't have anything to do with it! Kurt saw it, too! In his vision!" said Buffy.

"Kurt's visions aren't always spot on," shrugged Rachel, "Am I wrong, Kurt? They're sometimes vague."

"Sure, but when I know something, I know it," said Kurt, "I knew that Spike and Drusilla were back."

"And now you know that Death itself is lurking around the children's ward?" asked Quinn.

"Guys, if Kurt says he's sure of something, he's sure of it," said Blaine.

"This kid Ryan was afraid of something. Something real," said Buffy, "As long as I have to be in this place, I'm going to find out what's going on. Come on, you guys. When have I ever been wrong? When has there actually ever been a perfectly logical explanation to Lima's weirdness?"

Tina shrugged. "That's true. You can't argue with statistics. There's almost always something sinister going on."

"This is the part where we ask, 'Is there anything we can do to help?'" said Mike.

**Next up: Conquering death and losing control...**


	65. The Hospital

"He had to ask, didn't he?" Rachel asked aloud, rummaging through a tall filing cabinet.

Quinn had closed the door behind them in the stuffy records room and was herself immersed in a box of medical charts.

"It's fine. We just find that little girl Janie's record. Five minutes, tops. Then, we can go back to your house and I can add glitter to the posters while you practise _My Heart Will Go On_."

"I know I announced the fundraiser to the glee club earlier but I have a feeling their performances are going to take a back-burner to this whole grim reaper thing."

"Yes, well, priorities, Rachel."

"I know, I know, this is far more important. Life and death and such. I just want to make sure we all have a place to go once we're out of harm's way. Glee club is that place."

"I know, I know, our safe haven-"

"I'm worrying too much, aren't I?"

"No, it's just, it's not like-"

"What are you doing here?"

Rachel and Quinn gasped, dropping the files they'd been rooting through and looked to the door to see a portly security guard giving them the evil eye, crumbs stuck in his toothbrush moustache. Quinn straightened her posture and stared steady-eyed at the security guard.

"Um, we're looking through the files. But that's okay. We have permission."

The guard looked at her skeptically for a moment. "Oh... Okay."

Rachel gaped at Quinn as she continued talking to the guard.

"Yeah, in fact, we could use your help."

"Sure," shrugged the guard.

"We're looking for a file on a little girl who died last night. Janie...?"

"Yeah, one of Dr. Backer's patients."

"Dr. Backer?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

The guard's eyes shifted to Rachel and he started to look unnerved.

"It's okay," said Quinn, staring at him, "You can tell us."

His gaze returned to Quinn and he looked like he was in a trance. "Dr. Backer's a good guy. He understands the truth. About children."

"The truth?"

"Sometimes they die."

Quinn and Rachel glanced uneasily at each other.

"Right..." said Quinn, "So, Janie's file."

"Her last name is Reed," said the guard, "It should be in there."

He pointed at one drawer of the filing cabinet labelled 'R'.

"Right. Thank you, uh... Don," said Quinn, narrowing her eyes at the guard's name tag, "You can go now."

The guard nodded and shuffled away as Rachel retrieved a file labelled 'Jane Reed'.

"Got it," she said and followed Quinn out of the records room, "We should get this to Mr. Schuester. He's meeting Mike and Tina at his apartment. Say, that was, um, weird..."

"Yeah, Don's kind of creepy. I mean, sometimes children die? What kind of vague, morbid reply is that?"

"No, I mean... Did you just control is _mind_?"

"Oh," Quinn blushed, "Well, yeah."

"I didn't know that was something you could do."

"I don't use it that often."

"How often do you use it?"

"Only when it's really important," Quinn shrugged, "Like now. I would never use it on you, if that's what you're asking."

"No, of course not, I just... Magic is more than I thought it was. There's probably a lot of stuff you can do that I don't know about."

Quinn frowned. "You could do that stuff, too, probably."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, technically, Shelby is your mother. Some of that power had to transfer."

Rachel shook her head. "I don't think it's my kind of thing, Quinn. I wouldn't be as good at it."

"It's not about being good at it, it's just... a nice release. Like glee club or... snowboarding. But, better. Definitely better."

Rachel shrugged. "Let's just get this to Mr. Schue."

xxx

Will locked his office door behind him with leather bound books under his arm; volumes on death and the plague and the biblical apocalypse. He was trying to put all his focus into Buffy's problem, to find a solution with the information she and Kurt had given him. It was a long shot but any other issue was a welcome distraction from the numbing pain that had encompassed him since Emma's death. He wondered how long he'd be finding strands of red hair on his vests or his throw pillows.

There was a comb she'd left in his bathroom with her gleaming red hair weaved in between the teeth. He couldn't bear to throw it out. As ridiculous as he knew it was, it was almost like she could walk in at any moment and laugh at herself for forgetting it. He wished he'd thought of swiping one of her perfume bottles from her apartment before forensics had bagged everything up, so that he could smell her floral scent and feel like she was there.

He knew that wouldn't help him, though. He would have to make it through this miserable routine of numbness and sharp pain that came at unequal intervals. Somehow.

"Will?"

He'd almost reached the exit when a voice called to him. He turned around to see it was Terri, her blond hair curled and a look of both fear and concern in her blue eyes. He realized he didn't even have enough room to feel contempt for her. All he felt was emptiness.

"Terri."

"I'm probably the last person you wanted to see, but..." she sighed, "I'm so sorry. For your loss."

Will swallowed down a sharp feeling in his throat. "Thank you," he said, hollow.

"I know you loved her. She... She was good for you," Terri shook her head, "I'm sorry. I won't talk about her. I didn't know her. I'm just trying to say that I wish I could help and if there's anything-"

"There's nothing." He immediately felt sorry for sounding so cold, but it was the truth. There was nothing she could do.

Terri nodded, pursing her lips. "Of course. I wish I could do something for Santana but... I can't. I was there to give her a soul the first time. I don't think I could do it again. Even if I could, it wouldn't end well."

"That's fine, Terri... I have to go."

"Y-Yeah, okay. I'll see you around, I guess."

"Yeah," Will sighed and brought his hand to the exit before he turned around once more, "...Thank you."

xxx

Buffy poked her head around the door of the children's ward. The kids were still up, reading nursery rhymes, playing with stuffed animals or simply watching the static-y TV from their beds. Buffy scoped out the room and quickly spotted Ryan sitting at plastic playtable, fervently coloring into a sketchbook. Buffy walked over to him in her hospital gown and bent her knees, trying to smile warmly.

"Hi," she smiled, "Remember me?"

Ryan looked up to her, his face remaining sallow and cold. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Why not?" frowned Buffy.

"Contagious," he said simply.

"Oh, it's okay. I already got what you got."

He shook his head and continued his drawing.

"Why? Cause I'm grown-up? Believe me, I'm not _that _grown-up..." she trailed off, distracted by the dark drawing that Ryan was coloring in.

It was the thing. The exact likeness of what she saw in her fever dream, of what Kurt described in his vision. Death, with his black hat, beak nose and soulless white eyes.

"He'll come again tonight," said Ryan.

"Ryan, listen to me. I'm not going to let this thing hurt you. Any of you."

Ryan remained silently skeptical.

"The grown-ups don't believe you, right? Well, I do. I believe in monsters. They're real. But guess what? So are heroes. I'm one of them."

Ryan gave her a sober look and said matter-of-factly, "You can't fight death."

xxx

"Sometimes, little kids can see stuff that older people can't," said Mike, "I've seen in, like, a hundred horror movies."

"Right," Tina nodded, her eyes trailing through the file that Rachel and Quinn had brought over to Mr. Schuester's apartment, "Our true selves. Hidden faces."

"So the kids might just be afraid of a regular person," said Rachel, "Well, what looks like a regular person to us."

"I nominate Dr. Backer as a suspect," said Quinn.

"I second that," said Will, closing a hefty book on bad omens, "Tina, can you find anything on him?"

Tina opened her laptop and started typing away into her typical search engines. "Well, the good Dr. Backer has somewhat of a rap sheet."

"You found something already?" asked Rachel.

"What can I say? I'm a whiz," Tina smirked and shrugged, "He's been reprimanded for controversial experiments, risky procedures... a malpractice suit... that was dropped all of a sudden."

"Plus, he gives me, as Buffy says, 'the wiggins," said Quinn.

"Could he be our guy?" asked Rachel.

"We have to find out what he's doing to those kids," said Will.

xxx

Buffy drummed her fingers against her thigh and waited patiently in the dark recesses of the hospital halls at night. Dr. Backer had kept the light in his office on and she could see his silhouette as he turned it off and walked down the hall, with only the moonlight indicating his figure. She quietly followed him at a safe distance as he walked into the children's ward.

Buffy quietly held herself against the doorframe as Dr. Backer slid a syringe into one of the children's IVs. She watched as he moved to the next kid and did the same, when suddenly they both shook as they heard a noise from inside the room, like a heavy footstep. Dr. Backer turned around to squint into the darkness when something slashed his arm. Claw marks shredded at him by an invisible weapon and when he began to cry out, an unseen hand clamped over his mouth. Something stabbed into his stomach and he released an anguished cry before the invisible force lifted him and threw him to the door.

Buffy gasped and leapt out of the way as Dr. Backer's body crashed through the doorway and collapsed onto the ground in a shredded, bloody mess. She rushed to kneel down to him, but something swiped at her and knocked her aside. She tried lifting her head, dazed, to see Dr. Backer's body being dragged away down the hall by... nothing.

xxx

"It looks like you were onto something, after all," said Will, sitting on the edge of Buffy's hospital bed, the morning light blanketing the bed covers.

"I know," Buffy replied solemnly.

"It looks like Janie died from the fever but her records show her getting better and then suddenly getting worse. We did some research on Dr. Backer-"

"It's not him. He was clean."

"What do you mean?' asked Will, taken aback.

Buffy removed a crumpled piece of paper from under her pillow and straightened it out for Will to see. It was Ryan's drawing of the ghastly thing from the night before.

"This killed him," Buffy said certainly, "And not with kindness."

"You saw it?"

"No. I mean, it was invisible. But it killed Dr. Backer and knocked me down. It's real. Meaning, I get to fight it."

"It would help if you could see it. I thought you saw it the other night?"

"I might have been dreaming..." Buffy shrugged, "I don't know. I was pretty out of it."

"Good morning!" Joyce entered cheerily with her purse swinging from one shoulder, "Oh, looks like I'm interrupting a secret meeting."

"Not at all," Will stood up and smiled, "Just filling Buffy in on this week's glee club assignment.

"Oh. Honey, I just talked to Dr. Wilkinson," said Joyce, "She says I can take you home."

Buffy hesitated. "I... I have to stay here."

Joyce looked taken aback. "Stay here? But honey-"

"I think my symptoms are coming back."

"She doesn't look so well," Will chimed in.

"I feel oogy," Buffy said, leaning back against her pillow pathetically.

"Are you sure?" asked Joyce.

"Yeah. I think I have to stay another day."

"Well, I'll talk to the doctor..." said Joyce, disappointed, leaving the room.

"Get a mugshot on this guy," Buffy said, shoving the drawing into Will's hands, "I need to know who I'm fighting."

"Right."

"And maybe get Tina to skip school and come help me. I'll look through Dr. Backer's office but if I find any medical evidence I might not have any idea what it is."

"Sure. I'll call when I know something."

"Know something soon."

xxx

Kurt watched water and sugar bubble over a bunsen burner in the back of Chemistry class with Blaine beside him, squeezing lime juice into a petri dish. They were making flavored rock candy that would be ready for tomorrow - a fun exercise their teacher let them do after exams. But Kurt wasn't much in the mood for fun with his vision in the back of his mind.

It wasn't just the horrifying face that unnerved him, it was the fact that he'd had a vision at all. In the beginning, they had only come in dreams and now it seemed like no matter how hard he tried to control his abilities, they were getting more and more sporadic and uncontrollable.

"Pass me the dye?" Blaine asked.

Kurt absentmindedly picked up a bottle of green food dye to make their lime rock candy. As he handed it to Blaine, their hands touched for a moment and muddled voices and images flooded Kurt's mind for a split-second. Foreign thoughts swimming together in a fast-paced rhythm. Sharpness. Running. Fencing. A laboratory. Music. Kurt. Mr. Anderson's stern face. The moon.

Kurt gasped and lunged back.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Blaine eyes widened, fearing his boyfriend was getting an ill-timed vision.

"Nothing, I... I have to go to the bathroom," Kurt said quickly and stumbled around the counter, rushing out of class without a word to the teacher.

Kurt rushed in the drafty hallway and found an empty stairwell. He collapsed on the bottom step and held his head in his hands. He'd just read Blaine's mind. In that split second, he hadn't made sense of much, but he knew that's what had happened. It was getting worse.

"Kurt!"

Kurt lifted his head to see Blaine rushing towards him.

"I told Mr. Mason you had a migraine," he said, "What happened?"

"I read your mind," said Kurt, "I read it and I didn't mean to."

"It's okay-"

"No, it's not. Nothing's working. I'm not in control of anything. It's in control of me. The mind reading and the visions, it happens whenever it wants to! What am I supposed to do?!"

Blaine frowned helplessly and took a seat on the stairwell. "We'll figure something out."

"I thought that this would bring me close to her," Kurt sniffed, "To my mom. We both had powers we didn't ask for... At least she knew how she got them. But maybe this is too close. She couldn't control her destiny. It drove her away from the people she loved."

"That's not going to happen to you," said Blaine, putting his arm over Kurt's shoulder, "Look, I know what it's like to not be in control of your own mind."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I know..." he sighed, "I just thought I knew what I was doing. And now I have no idea. I don't even know why this is happening to me, Blaine."

Blaine pursed his lips. "It's okay," was the only thing he could think of saying, "It's okay."

xxx

Buffy turned on the unflattering fluorescent lights in Dr. Backer's office. It was eery seeing it just the way he left it, as if he could come back and catch them at any moment.

"He didn't finish his coffee," Tina said morbidly, staring at a cold mug of black coffee on the desk, "I guess he never will."

"Yet another person I wasn't in time to save," Buffy frowned as Tina started leafing through a file left near the computer.

"I think I got something here."

"Yeah?"

"Dr. Backer was trying to inoculate kids with a dosage of the same virus they already had. Raising their temperatures to burn the fever out of them."

Buffy knelt down to a mini fridge and opened it to find vials with different colored labels on them. "Would that work?"

"According to this, it was starting to. He was really helping the kids after all."

Buffy frowned. "Until that thing stopped him."

Tina's phone began to ring - the theme song for _The Walking Dead _- and she quickly looked at the screen to see it was Mike.

"Mike?" she held the phone to her ear.

"It's called Der Kindestod."

Tina furrowed her brow. "What?"

"Your monster. It's called Der Kindestod. It means 'child death'. He sucks the life force out of children. Sick children."

"So it did kill Janie?"

Buffy looked up from the medical vials.

"My guess is that it would be looking at the children's ward as an all-you-can-eat buffet," Mike said on the other line.

"What's going on?" asked Buffy.

Tina pressed the phone to her shoulder. "The monster is called Der Kindestod. It means 'child death'. He's feeding off of sick children."

Buffy frowned. "It killed Dr. Backer because he was curing the children..."

Tina brought her phone back to her ear to hear Mike make a disgusted noise. "What? What's wrong?"

"We found a picture of how it feeds. God, it's disgusting..."

"What? What is he saying?" Buffy urged as Tina grimaced.

"It pins down the victim and slowly draws the life out of them..."

Her words faded away as a memory flooded Buffy's mind...

_Buffy's small hand grabbed a fistful of green fabric from the hospital curtain and pulled back. Celia laid flat down on the bed, her light brown hair splayed against the thin white pillow, her eyes open wide in horror._

"_Celia?" Buffy said, her voice small and scared._

_Terror covered Celia's face and she struggled to breathe as she reached out and grabbed Buffy's small wrist._

"_Get it off me!" Celia ordered._

_Buffy paled. "Celia... I don't know what to do!" Buffy said helplessly._

"Buffy?! Buffy, what's wrong?" asked Tina, a hand over her phone.

Buffy looked at Tina's concerned expression and shook her head, banishing the memory. "I've got to get this thing, Tina. Before it gets those kids."

"You will. We will," said Tina, hanging up the phone and shoving it back into her black sweater pocket.

"How?! I can't even see it!" Buffy lamented.

"You saw it once."

"Did I, though, or was my mind messing with me? I mean, I was crazed with fever and..."

"Buff?"

"The fever! That's how I could see Der Kindestod! Only sick people can see him!"

"But how can you fight him with a hundred and seven degree temperature?"

Buffy eyed the vials in Dr. Backer's open mini fridge. "I guess we'll find out." Buffy grabbed one of the vials and screwed the top off.

"Buffy!" Tina gasped.

"Tina, I have to do this!"

"That's a hundred percent pure! It'll kill you in an instant!"

Buffy paused with the vial in her hand. "Oh... well, they should put that on the label."

Tina sighed and took a beaker from Dr. Backer's desk and filled it with water at the cooler. She took the vial from Buffy's hand and added a few small drops of the clear liquid to it.

"This is going to have to work fast," said Buffy.

Tina hesitated and added another drop.

"Faster than that."

Tina sighed and reluctantly added another drop. "Drink."

Buffy took the beaker and raised it in the air. "Here's to my health," she said and gulped it down.

Ten minutes later, Buffy's palms and forehead were clammy and her body burned up. She draped her arm over Tina and let the girl lead her down the hall to the children's ward.

"I'm not sure this was such a great idea," said Buffy, looking nauseated.

"Hang in there. You'll be okay."

"Okay..." Buffy nodded as they reached the door to the ward, "I'm okay."

The both reached the children's ward and looked through the window in the closed door to see the entire ward abandoned, every bed empty.

"They're gone," Buffy said to herself, perplexed, her temperature rising.

"What could have happened?" asked Tina, steading Buffy beside her.

"I don't know. Maybe I was too late. Maybe they moved them... I don't want to think of another maybe... God, I'm burning up."

Buffy put her hand to her head and swayed.

"It'll be okay," said Tina, trying to keep her upright.

Buffy looked back into the room and froze, stunned. "Tina..."

"What?"

"I think it's in there."

Buffy steadied her gaze inside and sure enough, Der Kindestod stood like a ghost in his long black cloak, his white eyes glowing from under his wide black hat.

"Good to see you," Buffy groaned.

Der Kindestod lifted his head and sniffed. Buffy pushed the door handle but it wouldn't budge. The door was locked. Der Kindestod smiled knowingly from inside and sniffed again, turning around and spotting a thin doorway in the corner with an emergency push handle across it, marked 'Basement Access'.

"He's going after them," Buffy wheezed as Der Kindestod slipped through the door.

She rammed her shoulder against the door to no avail. She was too weak to break it down, but she tried again.

"We've got to get him," she said wearily, "Give me a second and I'll get him..."

"Buffy? What's going on?"

Tina and Buffy turned to see Dr. Wilkinson rushing towards them looking concerned.

"Um, she's not feeling well, again," Tina said quickly.

"You should be in bed," Dr. Wilkinson frowned.

"No, its fine-"

"No. You're coming with me. And visiting hours are over."

Dr. Wilkinson grabbed Buffy's wrist and attempted to drag her back to her hospital room.

"No!" Buffy yelled and shoved Dr. Wilkinson. He fell back against the wall, startled.

Tina and Buffy whipped around and took off down the hall as fast as they could with Buffy swaying sickly. Tina helped her along as she stumbled. The intercom crackled and Dr. Wilkinson's voice could be heard through the halls, "Security to the children's ward. We have a situation! Security!"

Tina and Buffy raced down the hall when two security guards appeared at the other end.

"Come on, now," said one of the guards, slapping a baton against his hand, "Let's make this easy."

Tina looked at Buffy and then back at the guards. Suddenly, she raised her arms and began waving them wildly around.

"Bats!" she screamed, "Get them off me!"

The guards rushed for her, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides as Dr. Wilkinson rushed towards them looking flabbergasted.

"Not her!" Dr. Wilkinson exclaimed, "The other one!"

The guards turned, but Buffy was already gone. She staggered down the stairs, away from the yelling of Dr. Wilkinson and the guards and towards the hospital's entrance.

"Buffy? What are you doing?"

Buffy gasped, Angel's figure looming by the doorway. "What are you doing here?!" she demanded.

"Watching out for Santana," he said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. What's going-"

"We have to get down to the basement," she said, and stumbled forward, "Give me your... you."

Angel moved forward and caught her before she fainted to the floor. "Buffy!"

"It's okay. I'm okay," she sighed, "Come on. It's going to the basement. We have to save the kids."

"You don't know how to fight this thing," Angel said as he led her down through the basement entrance.

"I thought I might try violence."

"Solid call."

They stepped to the dank underground recesses of the hospital to see the children gathered there, shivering in fear. Buffy squinted to see Der Kindestod pinning Ryan to the ground. The monster's eyeballs had protruded from their sockets and like tentacles, had attached themselves to Ryan's forehead, draining the life from him. With a rush of adrenaline, Buffy picked up an idle two-by-four stacked in the corner and swung it at Der Kindestod's head, knocking him off of the child.

Never too ill to quip, Buffy venomously said, "You make me sick."

The creature got to his feet and dove at Buffy, knocking her to the ground. Angel pulled him back by the back of his coat.

"No, get the kids out!" Buffy ordered.

"Buffy-"

"He's mine!"

Angel quickly let go of Der Kindestod and moved to Ryan, picking him up and ushering out the other children. Buffy swung her fist at the monster, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her in and shoving her to the ground. He got down and straddled her, his eyes bulging out of his head. She struggled weakly against him as he pinned her down and with her last bit of strength, she reached up and firmly grasped his neck, twisting it and feeling it crack.

"Buffy, are you okay?" Angel rushed towards her as the children flooded out, crying.

Buffy pushed Der Kindestod's body off of her and stood up. "Actually, I'm feeling a little better."

xxx

Rachel folded her arms from one of the fenced off stairwells in the quad as Mercedes sang into a microphone from their makeshift stage on the steps - an impressive Otis Redding medley.

"Good turnout," said Quinn, coming up behind Rachel in a pink sweater she'd borrowed.

"Yeah," Rachel nodded, trying to sound more enthusiastic, "It's just... I don't know if it's going to be enough."

"Don't worry about it, Rach," Quinn nudged her playfully, "It'll be fine."

"And what if it's not? What if we don't have enough to keep glee club open for the rest of the year?"

"It's not the end of the world, Rachel. We'll have glee club next year."

"What if next year is too late?!"

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes it feels like glee club is the only thing that bonds all of us. I don't want us to go back to Cheerios and football and theatre club, where none of us will be friends anymore."

"Seriously? You think glee club is what bonds us all? If you haven't noticed, our lives are in danger like every other week. There are some bonds that can't be broken."

"No, I know, but... with everybody hanging out at different cliques, it's not going to be the same."

"I think you're overreacting, Rachel."

"No, I'm not! I can't expect you to wait for me, especially with brighter horizons ahead of you."

Quinn sighed. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid if we're not together in glee club everyday, I'll get sick of waiting for you and start dating someone else?"

Rachel sheepishly eyed the blonde. "Maybe."

"Rachel! You're going to drive me crazy!"

Rachel flinched. "Sorry, but-"

"No, just chill out for a second, okay? Glee club is _not _what bonds us. Definitely not. The friends you have now are going to keep being your friends whether or not you spend hours together singing about your feelings everyday. Especially me. I could care less about glee club."

"Quinn!"

"It's true! It's a fun way to waste time but other than that, I just don't care. What I care about is spending time with you and with Brittany and with Puck and helping Buffy defeat evil or whatever. Those are the important things. And there are no brighter horizons, Rachel. I will wait until the end of time for you to be ready."

Rachel bit down hard on her bottom lip. "Why would you do that?"

Quinn sighed wearily and slipped her hand into Rachel's. "Because nobody drives me crazy like you do."

Rachel sniffed and smiled. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who wants to be with you, _now_, in front of everyone."

Quinn shrugged. "Relationships aren't about who deserves each other. I want to be with you and you want to be with me. That's that."

Rachel paused. "Thank you, Quinn. I've never known you to be patient."

Quinn smirked. "I just know when something's worth waiting for."

**Next up: A ghost haunts McKinley and relationships are put to the test...**


	66. The Gun

**This chapter has been long overdue. Thanks for your patient wait. I hope you guys enjoy and tell me all your thoughts on this chapter. There's only a few more chapters left before this season is wrapped up! Any song suggestions for the musical companion?**

**TW: gun violence.**

"So, if we make all of our own costumes with Mercedes' discount at the fabric store and don't travel outside of the state, we can keep glee club open for the rest of the year."

"Yeah," said Quinn, leaning over the table and circling her finger over the rim of her virgin lemontini, "And it's not like if we run out of money we can't all get together and sing about our feelings."

"Sure, but it's so much easier to feel like a star when you have a pay-by-the-hour rented community center orchestra backing your vocals."

Quinn smirked and listened to the sub-par band that played on the open stage of the Bronze.

"At least you're being reasonable with the money. The event planning committee is blowing all of theirs right off the bat with this stupid Sadie Hawkins dance."

"I hate to say I'm not surprised they would exhibit such poor management skills," Rachel shook her head, "Especially now that Brittany is a key member."

"Yeah, Brittany's pretty impulsive..." Quinn said distractedly, "Even more so lately. She keeps joining all of these clubs. I used to think you took the cake for extra-curricular activities, but Brittany's schedule is overbooked. I guess that's how she wants it..."

"Why?"

"She needs the distraction. I'm guessing so that she doesn't have to think of Santana."

"Do you think she's using the Sadie Hawkins dance as a distraction?"

"Probably. I guess we could all use it, huh?"

Rachel shrugged. "I can't say I'm looking forward to it."

Quinn frowned. "Why not?"

Rachel shook her head, looking shy. "It's just another thing that makes me face the problems I've been trying to avoid."

"Problems like... us?"

"Partly," Rachel's shoulders drooped in defeat, "Oh, Quinn, I wish things were simpler."

"Rachel, you need to stop worrying so much. Whatever this is for now, I'm fine with it."

"I know that and I appreciate that, but that's not going to last forever. What happens when you're sick of waiting for me to stop being scared? What happens when you meet someone else who is nice and good-looking and _ready_ and I'm just here, holding you back, making you wait-"

Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and squeezed it tight. "Chill. We have enough to be worried about for now. We can think about this later, when everything is... calmer."

Rachel scoffed. "The only calm on the Hellmouth we'll ever experience is the calm before the storm."

Quinn smirked. "So when it all goes down, at least we'll know how we feel."

From a weathered couch, Buffy watched her friends having fun on the dancefloor, Mike and Puck goofing around and Quinn and Rachel having a heart-to-heart at a tall table. Tina had gone to the bar to get a couple of Cokes for them both and Buffy was glad for the moment of quiet. She had felt so disconnected from everything lately. Losing Santana had been devastating, but losing Ms. Pillsbury had only sharpened the pain. She felt somehow responsible for both.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked up to see a cute guy standing over her with sandy hair and a dimply smile.

"Hi?"

"I'm Ben. We had Algebra II together last year."

Buffy blinked blankly back at him. "Um, sorry. I try to repress anything math related."

"Ms. Jackson. Second period. You were in the seat three over, one behind..."

"Oh, yeah, I remember now," she smiled and nodded unconvincingly, "Weren't there chalkboard and pencils and desks and stuff?"

"That's the one," Ben chuckled.

Buffy grinned awkwardly and tapped her head. "Like a steel trap."

"So, I was wondering. That dance tomorrow... Are you going?"

"That Sadie Hawkins thing? Isn't that the deal where the girl asks the guy?"

"Uh, yeah. I was thinking, if you're free, you might... ask me?"

Buffy opened her mouth and blanked. "Oh, gosh, I..." she started, trailing off dismally.

Ben started to blush and nodded profusely. "Hey, no, don't worry about it."

"It's not you. You seem great. It's just that... I'm not seeing anybody... ever again."

"That's too bad. Uh, I'd better..."

Ben shuffled off, embarrassed, and Buffy shook her hair back with a sigh, grabbing her purse and standing up from the worn-in couch.

"Hey, are you leaving?" asked Tina, coming over with two Cokes in her hands, wearing a lacy black number that said Classic Tina.

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop by the school and see if Will wants me to patrol. Then I'll probably hit the hay."

"You've been doing a lot of that lately, huh? Patrolling and... hitting the hay. You've kind of been all work no play, Buffy."

"I play," Buffy shrugged, "I came here, didn't I?"

"You came. You saw. You rejected," said Tina, setting down the glasses on a mismatch coffee table.

"You mean that guy? I'm just... I'm not in date-mode right now. Not after everything."

"No, I get that. What happened with Santana was rough and... I just think that you don't have to feel bad about _not _feeling bad. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know, but it's hard. It seems like everytime I find happiness it ends in murder."

"Yeah, but, love isn't always like that. Love can be... nice."

Buffy gave her a half-hearted smirk and tightened her grip on her purse. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"She said no to that Ben guy. At least I think so. Did you see?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bar. "No, I didn't see, Sam, because I'm actually trying to enjoy myself instead of staring at Buffy like a creeper."

Sam turned around and furrowed his brow at Mercedes. "I'm not a creeper."

"You're acting like one," Mercedes frowned as the bartender handed her a Sprite, "You're not the only one trying to get over an ex, okay?"

"I know, but, this is different."

"What? Did the person you love dump you for a hotter girl?" she raised a dark eyebrow.

"Well... technically-"

"You need to get over it. I know you can't help being hung up on her but try not being so proactive about."

"So what am I supposed to do? Pretend I was never in love with her? Act like everything's normal?" 

"Good idea."

Sam shook his head and looked back in the other direction as Buffy slipped out of the entrance. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Mercedes cleared her throat and set her drink back down. "Dance with me," she smiled lightheartedly as the band finished up and a Taio Cruz song came on the speakers.

xxx

Brittany shoved her knee pads and sweat bands into the bottom of her McKinley duffel bag and swung it over her shoulder, leaving the girl's locker room in a gray t-shirt with 'McKinley' emblazoned across the chest. She'd stayed back at school to practise with the volleyball team she'd just joined and when all of the other girls shuffled out to meet at The Bronze for root beers and a live band, Brittany stayed behind and hit the volleyball against the gym wall for hours.

Her shoulders and wrists ached from all of the practise, but still she was reluctant to go home. She didn't know how she could do all of the normal things anymore. Eat hotdogs at pep rallies, sing in glee club, go to Breadstix with Artie. She felt a nagging restlessness ever since what happened to Santana... happened. The thing that bothered her the most was that Santana was always going through so many changes and Brittany hadn't been there for her. She'd let Santana get away with distancing herself and slipping away into Buffy's arms.

Brittany knew she didn't deserve to feel jealous or left behind. She didn't deserve to grieve like Buffy did because it wasn't 'Brittany and Santana' anymore. That was over. It was gone when Brittany officially severed their bond by choosing Artie. The last thing Brittany wanted to do was regret her relationship with her boyfriend, but she and Santana had been best friends since the age of six. That doesn't just go away.

She walked down the row of lockers, her shoulders slumped and her eyes steady on the ground, when her thoughts were interrupted by a heated shout coming from down the hall.

"Come back here! We're not finished!" she heard a boy yell, "You don't care anymore, is that it?"

"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter what I feel!" said a girl, her voice about to break as she began to cry.

Brittany slowed her breathing and crept up the row of lockers, peering around the corner at a pair of kids she recognised from her remedial Economics class. Cory and Elaine - two kids she'd never even seen sit together, but now they were obviously in the middle of an argument, Cory's chest heaving up and down and his mouth pulled down in a grimace.

"Tell me you don't love me," he shouted and grabbed her wrist, "Say it!"

"I don't. Is that what you need to hear? I don't. I don't! Now let me go," said Elaine, pulling away from him.

"No. A person doesn't just wake up one day and stop loving somebody."

Cory reeled back and reached into the waistband of his pants, removing a gun that Brittany hadn't noticed before. Brittany's breath caught in her throat as he pointed the gun at the sobbing girl's chest.

"Love is forever," he said ominously, "I'm not afraid to use it. I swear... if I can't be with you-"

A ball formed in Brittany's throat as her eyes swivelled to the opposite hall where Buffy had walked in, her purse slung across her shoulder.

"Buffy!" Brittany cried.

Buffy looked up alertly and noticed the boy's gun pointed directly at Elaine's chest.

"Hey!" Buffy shouted.

Elaine jumped and twirled around, breaking into a sprint.

"Don't walk away from me, bitch!" Cory yelled as Buffy ran towards him, twisting his arm so the gun fell out of his strained grip and sending a firm punch into his solar plexus.

She grabbed a fistful of his white t-shirt and threw him to the ground. He groaned, his eyes wide with fear. Brittany bit her bottom lip and ran towards Elaine, who was standing at the end of the hall, disoriented. Buffy pulled Cory back up and pinned him against the wall.

"What happened?" he spluttered.

"What happened?! You just went OJ on your girlfriend!"

"I... I don't know what happened. I don't know why I got so mad."

"Is it because you're a dick?"

"He's not," Elaine said, desperately, shivering as Brittany patted her shoulder, "We weren't even fighting a few minutes ago."

"We weren't, I swear to God-"

"If you weren't fighting, then why'd you have a gun?" Buffy challenged him, frowning sternly.

"I- I don't know. I don't even know where I got it," he said, his voice wavering.

Brittany frowned at the linoleum tiles. "...I don't see the gun."

Buffy turned around, her eyes scanning the floor. Sure enough, the gun was gone.

xxx

Kurt slumped over his bedsheets, his laptop humming quietly on the end of his bed as he opened tab after tab of forums and blog posts about psychic powers, mind-reading and visions. It all seemed useless - hokey tricks to hone your intuition and ads for learning how to read tarot cards. With the risk of sounding self-absorbed, he knew that no-one had his problems.

Blaine paced back and forth in the bedroom, throwing a powerball up in the air and catching it with the ease of his quick reflexes. He was pacing fast, his eyes flicking from Kurt to his rubber ball. Kurt could tell he was restless and frustrated. He had become even more eager for a physical relationship since becoming a werewolf - all that adrenaline, probably. But Kurt didn't want to risk it.

"I don't _mind _if you can read my thoughts, you know," Blaine said, suddenly.

"_I _mind," Kurt said, again, "Those are your private thoughts. I don't want to hear them."

"I don't have anything to hide. You know the most important things. I'm a werewolf. A Wham fan. Kurt, you even know about the..." Blaine's eyes lingered on Kurt's open bedroom door, "...my father's job. And that's top secret."

"I know, and I appreciate how honest you are with me, but sometimes the things we need to keep to ourselves aren't the most important things, like, the memory of how our mothers used to smell or our fantasies about being cast in a reboot of the Rocky Horror Picture Show."

Blaine wrinkled his brow. "I don't have any of that."

Kurt sighed, his eyes straying from his laptop screen. "That's not all. I'm not supposed to read your mind, Blaine. Not just for ethical reasons. It's not supposed to be _possible_. You're supposed to be immune to the powers of magic. If you're not immune to me, than maybe..."

"Maybe it's not magic," Blaine finished his thought, "Then what is it?" 

"Exactly what I want to know. I just have no idea how to figure it out. It's getting more out of control by the day."

"Do you think it's because of your mother?"

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "My mother?"

"Slayers don't usually have children. I've never heard of a slayer having a child before you, Kurt. They don't usually live long enough... What if they can pass on... abilities?"

"Who am I supposed to talk to about that? Mrs. Schuester told me everything she knew. My dad and Mrs. Cohen don't know anything... Tina's research mode is always on autopilot. I know if she ever found something, she'd tell me."

"Maybe... maybe talk to Buffy."

"Why?"

"She _is_ a slayer. If there's anyone who understands the power of a slayer, it's gotta be her."

xxx

"Ms. Summers, I'm sure you know why I called you to my office."

Buffy sat in the pleated cushion seat opposite Principal Figgins' desk. He stared at her from behind it, a deep frown setting wrinkles into his face and clutching a sleek metal pen in between his fingers.

"To... thank me?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. It was the morning after she'd knocked a gun out of Cory Stephens' hand only for the weapon to disappear without a trace.

"Yes," Principal Figgins laughed, "What would McKinley do without Buffy Summers to incite mayhem and disorder?"

Buffy gasped. "I did not incite _anything_. I stopped that boy from killing his girlfriend! I'm the hero here."

"I've been suspicious of you from day one, Ms. Summers, and trouble has followed you around like a stalker ex-mistress."

"What are you saying?!" 

"One word, Ms. Summers," Figgins leaned in, "Conspiracy."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm apart of a conspiracy? What would I even conspire to do?"

"That's what I intend to find out. I have a missing gun and two confused student on my hands. I'm going to keep looking into this until I find every piece of the puzzle and what you had to do with this."

"Why are you so sure I had anything to do with it?"

"Your track record doesn't help you, Ms. Summers," he frowned as his intercom buzzed.

"Principal Figgins, Channing Pokipsy chained himself to the vending machine again."

Figgins' grumbled. "Why couldn't we pull funding from the Vegan Society?" he shook his head and pointed a finger at Buffy, "You stay right there, Ms. Summers. We're not finished."

Buffy pouted and slumped in her chair as Principal Figgins stood up and left the office. She was no stranger to the saying, 'No good deed goes unpunished'. She pinched the bridge of her nose as the office door slammed closed. She couldn't take this now. Being hounded by the school administration for what? Doing her job? Keeping the citizens of Lima safe? She was two dead parents and a billion dollars away from being Batman.

She shook as she heard a thud on the carpet and looked up to see a book had fallen from Figgins' short bookcase full of square cubby holes. She stood up and flipped the book open to see it was a 1954-55 issue of the Thunderclap, McKinley's annual school yearbook. She shrugged and slipped it back into it's place on the shelf.

xxx

Rachel's ballet flats made squeaky sounds as she walked back to a classroom in the south side of McKinley, with only three other students waiting for her - Casey, Heinrich and a red-haired boy her classmates nicknamed 'Stoner Brett'.

"Figgins took away Channing's handcuffs and called his parents," she sighed irritably, her hands resting on her hips.

"Class hasn't even let out yet! Does this mean _no-one _saw the act of protest?" asked Heinrich, a guy in Rachel's French class who wore a different beret to class every day.

"I guess we're going to have to find another way to bring awareness to McKinley's gross nutrition standards," said Rachel, "Any ideas?"

"Um, vegan bake sale?" Casey suggested uncertainly.

"Derivative," Heinrich rolled his eyes.

"No, it could work," Rachel nodded, "My dad has this recipe for pumpkin donuts."

"And we can brownies," said Brett, "Like, with _all natural ingredients_."

"Rachel?"

Rachel turned to the door where Tina had walked in, leaning against the frame.

"Let's continue this discussion tomorrow," Rachel said, clapping her hands together and turning back to her classmates, "And I want more ideas, okay? Casey, you want to look up recipes?"

Casey nodded and shyly followed the boys out of the room, leaving only Rachel and Tina inside.

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting anything. It's my free period."

"No, it's fine. Vegan Society," Rachel shrugged.

"I didn't know there was a Vegan Society."

"There wasn't, but since the Young Anarchists Association disbanded because... well, because they're anarchists, we decided to take their unused funding from and use it to call awareness to the meat and butter obsession of our society." 

"There's really been an uptake in extra-curriculars lately, huh? Seems like everybody's trying to keep busy."

"Yes, well, everybody reacts to tragedy differently. And maybe our authorities think that signing their students up for activities will keep them out of trouble until we get our new guidance counselor next year."

"I don't know if it's working. Did Buffy tell you what happened last night?"

"Yeah, I heard. It's scary. I thought we'd seen it all. Praying mantis ladies and invisible girls, but guns? That's so... human."

"They never found it. Buffy got told off by Principal Figgins just for being there."

"Poor Buffy," Rachel frowned sympathetically.

"Yeah, poor Buffy. She hasn't been acting like herself. She's been upset about Santana but it's been even worse since Ms. Pillsbury died. I don't think she's even going to the Sadie Hawkins dance."

"Well, like I said, everyone grieves differently. Buffy just needs time."

Tina nodded. "Hopefully that's it. I'd hate to see her give up altogether."

xxx

"Have you talked to Buffy?" Blaine hissed at the back of Algebra II.

Kurt grimaced, his head down in an exercise book as Mr. Walsh paced the room, craning his neck to make sure students weren't making mischief.

"Not yet."

"When are you gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know, Blaine. It's a sensitive subject."

"You don't have to be... embarrassed. You help Buffy all the time. It's okay to ask for help."

"I know, I know, it's just... What am I supposed to ask? This is kind of... unique. I'm not sure she can help me."

"If she can't, then who can?"

Kurt shrugged. "Maybe-"

"Mr. Hummel? Mr. Anderson?" called Mr. Walsh. Kurt and Blaine looked up sheepishly as their bespectacled teacher stared at them with hands on his hips. "Can I get a little less conversation and a little more algebra, please?"

Their classmates tittered as Kurt and Blaine ducked their heads back down into their math problems.

"I'm just saying," Blaine whispered under his breath, keeping his head down close to the table, "We don't have a lot to go on. Maybe Buffy can help you find the source of her power and, well, the source of _your _power... Kurt?"

Kurt clenched his jaw as the classroom seemed to fade away. When he looked up, slightly disoriented, he was somewhere else. Still in a classroom, but not the fancy hardwood molding and red insignias of Dalton Academy. He sat at a desk and looked out of the broad window to see the gym building a short distance away, near the football field that was bordered by a parking lot.

It was McKinley, but Kurt didn't recognize any of the people. They were all much more buttoned up than his old classmates. They looked like they were from another decade, with high ponytails tied in fabric ribbons, penny loafers and even an ascot or two.

"Don't forget you have assignments due on Monday," said the teacher, who wore a poodle skirt and cat-rimmed glasses.

As the bell rang, the students stood up, chatting with each other and filing out of the classrooms. Two girls wearing sweaters draped over their shoulders giggled together, while one held a slightly crumpled flyer advertising an upcoming dance.

"Who are you taking?"

"David said yes!"

"You're kidding, he's so dreamy!"

As the rest of the students made their way out, one boy in a McKinley letterman jacket stayed back, handing a paper to the teacher.

"Thank you, James," she simpered sweetly, her dark red hair catching the light that poured in through the window, "How are you enjoying that book I loaned you?"

James' eyes barely moved as he stared intently at his teacher, his brown, gelled hair parted unassumingly. "I like it, very much... It's honest."

"Yes, it's, um... It's based on a true story, actually," said the teacher, beginning to get flustered as the boy continued to stare at her. She put his hand on his, almost an automated move. "He fell in love with his-"

Kurt woke up. Back in Dalton, except the classroom was empty, save for Blaine who leaned against his desk, waiting patiently for Kurt to come to.

"What did you see?" he asked.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, rethinking the vision that seemed more real and less vague than any he'd ever had. "I'm not sure."

xxx

"I'm telling you. Something weird is going on."

Buffy had walked out of English class with Mercedes, who was eager to find out what happened last night after Brittany had told all of the girls on the volleyball team that Cory had a gun after school hours.

"Something weird is going on?" Mercedes chuckled, "Isn't that our school motto?"

"Pretty much. But, I don't know, it bugs me. I have to figure it out without Principal Figgins giving me a hard time."

"It's seems like the only time you get these days is the hard kind."

"Seems like it," Buffy sighed and then looked imploringly at Mercedes when they reached the girl's locker, "Hey, I was wondering, how is Sam? We don't really talk like we use to."

"He's still hung up on you, that's for sure."

Buffy frowned. "He is?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Buffy. He'll be okay. He just needs a friend and I'm happy to fill in that position."

"That's sweet. Are you... are you taking anyone to the Sadie Hawkins dance?"

Mercedes shrugged. "I've never been good at asking guys out."

"Maybe you should take Sam," Buffy said enthusiastically.

"You're not trying to force your sloppy seconds on to me, are you?"

"Of course not. But you may as well go with a friend, huh?"

"I guess so. It's just, Sam's in a vulnerable place right now and I don't want him getting clingy and cramping my style."

"Well, I heard somebody asked Shane."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "That's low. Even for you."

Buffy grinned. "Sorry. I just think you might be exactly what Sam needs right now."

Mercedes shrugged and opened her locker, only for a hand with rotting flesh and yellow nails to reach through and pull at her pink sweatshirt, pulling her against the wall of lockers. Buffy gasped and pulled Mercedes away from the locker and slammed the door shut with the hand inside. The girls glanced at each other, breathless. They looked back at the classmates who had stopped and were staring in their direction, mumbling to each other.

Buffy cautiously opened the locker door again, but the arm was gone and there were only Mercedes' knick-knacks adorning the inside. Buffy's cellphone started beeping inside her pocket and she hastily removed it to see Kurt's name on the screen.

"Bad news, I'm guessing?" she answered in the hallway.

"You're an intuitive one, Buffy Summers. I'm not actually sure how bad the news is yet."

"A vision?"

"Felt more like a flashback. It was McKinley, in the 50s, I think. All I saw was a student, looked like a football player, talking to his hottie teacher after class. He thanked her for a book she'd let him borrow. It looked like it could've either been the start of a Lifetime movie or a terrible porno. I was hoping it means more to you than it does to me."

Buffy chewed her lip. "I don't think so. But there _is _something weird going on at school, so, thanks, Kurt. Is that everything?"

Kurt paused a moment. "Yeah, that's it."

xxx

Jesse let his duffel bag fall to the floor as soon as he closed the front door of his house. He rubbed the back of his neck. He had slept on Quinn's couch in Lima Heights, again. He'd gotten roped into babysitting Beth as Shelby tried to translate Romanian rituals. The strange thing was, he didn't hate it. Especially since Quinn had taken to bonding with her daughter. She came home early from her date with Rachel at the Bronze last night - "It was not a date!" - to play with Beth and put her to bed.

If he wasn't mistaken, his little blond friend seemed _happy_ these days. He wasn't sure what had changed, especially since the death and loss in the lives of the slayer and her justice league was at a high, but he wasn't going to question it. Not when Quinn was light on her toes and smiling with seemingly no reason.

The only detriment was what it did to his sleeping patterns. Not that Jesse had anywhere to be. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered coming home. Leaning against the door, he looked up as his mother made her way down the sweeping marble staircase in a tennis skirt and an argyle sweater.

"Just getting home, Jesse?" she asked, looking him up and down in his dark brown leather jacket and his unironed white t-shirt.

"I stayed at a friend's."

"I didn't realize you'd be coming and going at all hours when you dropped out of UCLA."

Jesse sighed irritably. His parents took an opportunity they could to remind Jesse that he was a screw-up dropout.

"Quinn needed my help."

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"No," Jesse wrinkled her nose, "We're just friends."

"Perhaps you should ask her out. You two could have a double date with your father and I at the country club."

Jesse bristled as she reached the bottom of the staircase. "It's 'your father and _me_', mother," he corrected under his breath, "And why are you trying to get me to date Quinn?"

Eleanor crossed her arms. "I'm just trying to find you some prospects, Jesse. If you're not going to go to college or work for your father's firm, maybe you can find a girl with money and status whose coattails you can hang onto."

Jesse grimaced. "If you have something to say, just say it."

"Fine. Your father and I decided to enroll you in OSU-Lima next year." 

"You're kidding. I'm not going to college in _Lima_."

"Yes, you are. Unless you have a better plan. If you come up with something, your father and I will support you, but we're not going to stand idly by while you waste your life. If you can't make any decision about your future, one will be made for you."

She began to walk away to the closet, where her squash rackets lie.

"Who gave you the right?" Jesse called.

She turned back to him, smirking. "_Whom_."

xxx

Buffy walked Mercedes to Mr. Schuester's office, her pink sweatshirt slightly askew after her run-in with the zombie arm that had appeared and promptly vanished in her locker.

"Mercedes, what happened?" asked Will, who looked up from books spread out on his desk. He had dark circles around his eyes that betrayed the fact that he hadn't been sleeping right at all lately.

"I just had an encounter with a locker monster."

"Loch-ness monster?" Will furrowed his brow.

"No, _locker_ monster," said Buffy, "Except it wasn't really a locker and more like this undead arm that came out of the locker but when we opened it again, it was gone."

"This is right before Kurt called Buffy about a vision he had," said Mercedes.

"Vision?" asked Will.

"McKinley in the 50s. Nothing super incriminating, though."

"Sounds like a poltergeist," said Will.

"I should tell Tina," Buffy sighed, "She's been waiting for an Amityville Horror sitch since day one."

"Why is it here?" asked Mercedes, "Is it just trying to give everyone the major creeps?"

"I guess we don't know that yet," said Will.

"How do we stop it?" asked Buffy.

"I guess one way is to resolve the spirit's unfinished business."

"So now we're Dr. Phil for the deceased?"

"We should find out who the spirit is... or was."

xxx

Brittany headed out of the locker room that night, a yellow sweatshirt draped over her exercise clothes. She strained her ears for anything out of the norm, but she didn't think there was anyone else but herself hanging around after hours. She walked down the hall until she heard faint footsteps behind her. She whipped around to see Mike Chang heading towards her in jeans and his letterman jacket.

"Oh. Hi, Mike."

"Hey, Brittany," he said, looking at her yoga pants, "More volleyball practise?"

"Ladies' lacrosse," she replied.

"You're spreading yourself kind of thin lately, huh?"

"Like cookie dough," she shrugged.

"I don't think you should be here alone. Not after what happened yesterday."

"I guess I..." Brittany shrugged, "I don't know. I think if something happened again, I could help. Like Buffy. She's always helping people."

Mike nodded. "Even Buffy needs help sometimes."

Brittany shrugged and looked at the floor. Mike frowned, feeling sympathy. She seemed so lost, so girlishly innocent.

"You and Artie haven't hung out lately, huh?"

"He told you?"

Mike nodded. "He's just worried about you, Brittany. We all are."

Brittany nodded, still staring at the floor for fear she might cry. "I shouldn't be sad."

"What do you mean?"

"I let Santana go. And now she loves Buffy. So I shouldn't be sad. I'm stealing Buffy's sadness."

Mike frowned. "Brittany, no-one has a monopoly on sadness. If you feel bad, you don't have to hide it. You can talk to me or Quinn or Mr. Schuester or any of us. We're your friends."

Brittany sniffed. "Thanks, Mike."

"No problem. Let me walk you to your car."

"Thanks," Brittany smiled.

"Yeah, no problem. And Brittany? You can't make me disappear just because you say it's over."

Brittany looked up at him, both of them staring at each other for a long, daunting moment.

"There's no way we can be together," Brittany sighed, her voice full of regret, "No way people will ever understand. Accept it."

"Is that what this is about? What other people think?"

"No," Brittany sobbed, "I just want you to have a normal life. We can never have that. Don't you get it?"

"I don't give a damn about a normal life. I'm going crazy without you. I think about you every minute."

Brittany walked forward, smiling sadly. "I know," she said, bringing her hand to Mike's cheek, "But it's over. It has to be."

Brittany turned on her heel and walked away before Mike caught up with her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

"Come back here! We're not finished yet!," he shouted, "You don't care anymore, is that it?"

"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter what I feel!" Brittany sobbed

"Tell me you don't love me. Say it!" Mike yelled, grabbing and twisting Brittany's thin wrist.

"I don't. Is that what you need to hear? I don't. I don't! Now let me go."

"No. A person doesn't just wake up one day and stop loving somebody."

Mike lifted his arm, pointing a shiny silver gun at Brittany. Her eyes widened at the sight of the thin pistol. She backed up, sobbing.

"Love is forever."


	67. The Ghost

**a/n: Thanks again for waiting for this chapter. Now that I've officially graduated secondary school/high school, I'll have plenty of time this summer to keep this story updated. Thanks for your reviews. Reading them gives me happy gooey feelings. Kind of a long chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you'll enjoy reading it.**

**PS: I listened to 'I Only Have Eyes For You' by the Flamingos on repeat while writing this chapter and I suggest playing it in the background while you read the last couple scenes for optimal feels.**

**TW: Gun violence. Mention of murder/suicide.**

Will groaned, waking up with his face slumped against printed pages on poltergeists and communication with the dead, the cold sweat of his forehead blurring the ink. He'd fallen asleep in his office again, reluctant to go home to the quiet of his apartment. He pushed aside his research material and stood from his desk, heading to the bathroom to stretch his legs and splash water on his face. He twisted the corner and heard a muffled argument coming from the east hall near the girls' locker room.

"Let's both just calm down. Give me the gun."

Will furrowed his brow. It sounded like Brittany, her voice shaky. He turned the corner to see Mike, his shoulders tensed as he waved a gun in the girl's direction.

"Hey!" Will yelled and ran through the hall.

Mike turned around, panicked and pulled the trigger, a deafening shot ringing out through the school. Mike reeled backwards and the gun dropped from his hands onto the ground with a clatter.

"Wha...?" he breathed, looking at his own hand. Brittany gasped and Mike looked Will, who was sprawled on the floor, a bright patch of blood spreading onto the crisp white sleave of his button-up shirt.

"Mr. Schuester!" Mike cried, both he and Brittany rushing towards him.

Will lifted his head and looked at the blood on his shirt, his eyes widening.

"Back!" he ordered, and Mike stopped short beside him.

Brittany kneeled down and quickly helped Will get his tie off. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed his injured arm. He winced and saw it was only a through-and-through flesh wound. He balled up his bloody shirt and held it to the gunshot.

"Oh my God," said Mike, his mouth gaping open and his eyes wide with horror.

"What were you thinking?!" Will demanded, small flecks of blood quickly drying on his shoulder.

"I-I don't know. I don't know what happened."

"I don't either," Brittany said quickly, "It's like we weren't even there."

"Oh God, Mr. Schuester, I didn't mean to do this, I don't even know where I got that gun. I didn't mean this, I'm sorry, you have to-"

"I believe you," said Will between gritted teeth. His eyes scanned the floor and the other two followed his gaze to see the absence of the gun.

xxx

"And this is the garden."

Snix opened the backyard slide doors of an impressively spacious condo on the skirts of town. She put her hands on her hips as Spike rolled out, followed by Drusilla, who looked like she had stars in her eyes. There were wild lilies growing in the small garden and vines stretching up against the bright white paint of the apartment. Fairy lights donned the red brick wall that cut them off from their warm-blooded neighbours.

"I know you guys aren't used to living among non-corpses but trust me; it's cosy, it's warm and it doesn't smell like a sewer. You'll get used to it."

"Look. Jasmine," Drusilla gasped in delight, pointing to an overgrown bush adorned with delicate white flowers.

Snix approached her from behind and wrapped her arms around Drusilla's waist, bunching up the black fabric of her slim floor-length gown.

"Night blooming. Like us."

"Ooh, my angel, it's a fairyland."

"It's perfect," Spike frowned cynically, "Big windows and gardens. Great for when we want the sunlight to kill us."

"And again, Pottery Barn offers a solution to your problems with velvet blackout curtains," Snix rolled her maroon eyes, "You need to stop being such a nitpicker, Wheels."

"Our old place was just fine before you burned it down."

"Things change, Spikey. You've gotta roll with the punches. But then you've got that whole rolling thing down to pat, right?" 

"Very funny."

"What can I say? I love to see you smile, buddy," Snix smirked, nuzzling into Drusilla neck, making the older vampire purr.

"Yeah," Spike said with his jaw clenched, "You're a giver."

xxx

Buffy realized if she didn't have to be a slayer, she'd make a good nurse, as she bandaged a gunshot wound on Will's right arm. Despite the amount of blood that stained his now ruined white dress shirt, the bullet had mainly just grazed him, stripping away some skin and muscle.

"Is Mike okay?" he asked, sitting at the edge of the desk in his office.

He didn't want to go to the hospital or call the police. He was certain that Mike and Brittany had been possessed by the same thing that made Cory and Elaine argue so violent the previous night.

"He'll be okay," said Buffy, "You're the one who got shot."

"I'll recover. I'm sure he feels horrible."

"Well, he's with Tina, and I took Brittany home. Told her not to hang back when no-one was around anymore. You should probably do the same."

"I can take care of myself."

"Will, you got _shot_. Just until we figure this all out, you shouldn't be at the school alone, alright?"

Will opened his mouth to protest when Rachel and Quinn came in, looking equally spooked.

"Tina's parents are letting Mike stay the night at their house. _His _parents thinks he's at Finn and Kurt's," said Rachel.

"So what happened?" asked Quinn, folding her arms.

"It was just like last night," said Will.

"Mike and Brittany don't remember anything. Or, they do, but they don't remember why it happened. Like they were possessed," Buffy explained.

"Did you find the gun?" asked Rachel.

"No. We looked all over," said Will, "But I think I know what's going on."

"You do?" Buffy looked from Will's bandage, handing him a soft gray t-shirt.

"Yeah," said Will, slipping the t-shirt over his head and wincing again from the pain of his wound, "It's Emma."

The girls fell silent. "What?" said Buffy.

"She died here, in the school. Murdered. This is her spirit. It has to be. She's trapped."

"But, what about the gun?" asked Rachel, lowering her voice and looking uncomfortable, "Ms. Pillsbury wasn't shot."

"The gun is just a detail," said Will, "It's the violence."

"I don't know. The fights seems kind of... specific. Like they're having the exact same one. The same words," said Buffy.

"Yeah, none of this fits with how Ms. Pillsbury died," Quinn shrugged.

"You know I always want to hear what you guys think. You're intuition is extremely important when it comes to things like this," said Will, "But this time, I'm right. I know it."

xxx

"No more visions?" Buffy asked into her cellphone as she peered through her living room window the next morning, waiting for her carpool to arrive.

"No, not since the last one, I just wanted to talk to you about my powers in general," Kurt said on the other line, stuffing his backpack full of books for morning classes at Dalton.

"Is something wrong?"

"You could say that. They're getting stronger. A lot stronger. My visions are getting less vague. The mind reading is getting more powerful. I can even use it on Blaine. I'm worried about getting out of control."

"Is there something I can do?" asked Buffy.

"I don't know. Blaine thinks maybe I'm like this because my mother was a slayer. Like she passed on something."

"You think I'd know something about that?" 

"Am I barking up the wrong tree?"

"Well, I don't know, Kurt. It's not like it's never crossed my mind. Where do my powers come from? Why me? I just never got those answers."

"I think it's more than magic."

"I think so, too. I wish I knew more about it, though. Maybe you could try talking to somebody who's actually studied this kind of stuff? Like... Shelby Corcoran. I haven't talked to her but I know she's staying with Quinn and Sofia. Helping them with... stuff, it's complicated. But she's a witch. Been studying witchcraft since she was a teenager. If anyone knows about magic, it's her."

"Okay. Thanks, Buffy."

"Yeah, no problem. I gotta go," she said, as Tina's car pulled up with Mike behind the wheel and Tina browsing on her laptop in the passenger's seat.

Buffy slung her backpack over her shoulder and ran outside, squeezing into the back-seat with Rachel.

"Hey, guys," she greeted them, "You okay, Mike?"

"Tired," he replied wearily.

"It's not your fault," said Buffy as the 80s Volkswagen Tina got for her birthday hobbled along the way to school, "We're gonna find out what this thing is."

"Probably without Mr. Schuester's help, unfortunately," said Rachel.

"I've never seen him like that," said Buffy, "He misses her. He can't think about anything else. What are you looking at, T?" 

"Cross-checking for other shootings at the school. We need some alternate ghost theories."

"What do we know?"

"Plenty. It says here a student murdered a teacher the night of a Sadie Hawkins Dance. Allegedly they were having an affair and she tried to break it off. After he shot her, he committed suicide in the music room."

"It has to be one of them," said Rachel, "It all fits. The gun, the Sadie Hawkins dance..."

"Why haven't we ever heard about this?" asked Mike.

"Well, it happened in-"

"1955," said Buffy, her eyes widening as she the puzzles pieces fit together.

"How did you know?"

xxx

Buffy slammed the 1954-55 issue of the Thunderclap down on the surface of the choir room's grand piano and flicked straight to the 'In Memoriam' page. Only two pictures, a young male student and a pretty female teacher, looked up from the section. Buffy took a picture with her phone and sent it to Kurt with the caption, 'Look familiar?'

"James Stanley," said Tina, pointing to the boy, "That's him, the boy who murdered his teacher."

"And they're the people from Kurt's vision," Buffy confirmed, quickly receiving Kurt's text.

"Wow. His visions are getting really accurate," said Rachel, "And this one's from the _past_."

"He couldn't make her love him so he killed her," Mike frowned, looking down at the picture, "It's sick."

"He looks so... happy," said Rachel.

"He was smart, too. Made the honor roll," said Tina.

"Smart? He killed a person and then himself. Those are probably the two dumbest things you can do," Buffy frowned.

"Buffy, he was emotionally disturbed," said Tina, "I feel bad for them."

"I feel bad for her. But he's a murderer and he should pay."

"With his life?"

"No. He should be in a jail cell for sixty years breaking rocks and making special friends with Roscoe the weight lifter," Buffy huffed, her hands on her hips.

"Who's ghost do you think it is?" asked Rachel, "His or hers."

"Considering the violence... I'd say his," Buffy guessed.

"That makes sense," said Tina, "Maybe I can look into communication with the dead a little more. See what he wants."

"Who cares what he wants? We have to stop him before he makes some innocent guy kill some nice girl and then blow his brains out in the music room."

xxx

Kurt drove his Impala to Lima when Dalton let out for lunch. He didn't intend on going back to school as he drove to an upscale neighborhood called Lima Heights. He was going to get in trouble with the dean and probably with his dad, but at this point he didn't care about school or grades anymore. He remembered where Santana's house was from her Halloween party and parked on the sidewalk outside. He headed up the narrow path lined with red bark where there once were fake blue pebbles and rang the doorbell, rubbing his sweaty palms against his Levi's.

"Hello?" Sofia greeted in a tight red sweater.

"Hi, Sofia, is Shelby here?"

"She's upstairs packing. You want me to let her know you here?"

"Yes, please," Kurt said nervously. The living situation at Santana's house was complicated to say the least.

"SHELBY!" Sofia cried from the bottom of the staircase before turning back to Kurt, "Come in."

Kurt followed her inside and noticed how different it all looked since last October. Sofia had changed it even more, repainting the walls in autumn colors and putting soft carpets where cold tiles used to be. Brightly colored knick-knacks stood on shelves and a large arch led into the brightly lit living room where a Spanish soap opera blared on the TV.

"She'll be down in a second," said Sofia in her thick accent, "You want something to drink?"

"No, thank you," Kurt smiled, taking a seat at the island counter.

Sofia went into the living room to continue watching her soap opera and Shelby came downstairs in a dark purple sweater.

"Hello," she said curiously.

"Oh, hello," Kurt said, standing, "Um, you don't know me. My name is Kurt Hummel."

He outstretched his hand and shook hers very quickly, a burst of thoughts blaring through his mind before he pulled away.

"You _do _know me?" he wondered.

"Um," Shelby looked confused, "Yes, actually, I do. Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, um," Kurt shrugged, "Just to me, probably."

"I knew your mother."

"You did? Even better."

"I'm sorry, what is it you're here for?"

"I'm a friend of Buffy's. Who's a friend of Quinn's. Kind of. I needed your help. I know you're busy and I'm not sure how to phrase this but I've been developing powers. Powers that I don't know how to stop or control. I want to know about them and about magic and I was told that you were somewhat of an expert."

Shelby sat down at the island counter looking thoughtful and Kurt followed suit. "This is... I didn't think this would ever happen. I knew about your mother."

"You did?"

"Mm hm. We weren't really friends, but I practised witchcraft in high school and sometimes she would ask for my services. She'd even pay me. I never asked her to, but I wasn't living with my parents and I guess she felt bad for me. I was just a broke kid and she was gonna be a mom. That maternal side can be a strong thing. Anyways, we stayed in contact after she had you. I always appreciated her. She didn't care about what people said about me. The people in this town thought I was some sort of Satanic hoodlum. I wanted to leave for New York as soon as humanly possible, but not before I did your mom one last favor."

"What did you do?" asked Kurt, already engrossed in her story. 

"She was leaving for Cleveland and she wanted you to have protection on the Hellmouth. We didn't know if it would work but we had to try."

"Try what?" 

"We tried to transfer some of her powers to you. To make you strong and quick and intuitive. Like a slayer. We had no way of knowing if it had worked. It had never been done before."

"You were trying to make me a slayer?"

"She didn't want you to have that responsibility, but she did want you to have that power."

Kurt shook his head. "This isn't like her power, though. I don't have strength or agility. I get visions. Of the future, and the past, and they're getting more and more accurate. I can read minds. I read yours when we shook hands. I didn't mean to, I just did. I can't control this, any of it."

Shelby bit her lip. "Maybe that's how it works. You can't be a slayer, you just can't be. It's unprecedented. No boy or man in history has been a slayer, not a real one. So when we tried to give you your mother's powers, this is probably how they manifested. In your mind. Gave you wisdom instead of strength. Heightened your psychic abilities in lieu of physical ones."

"So it is because of my mother? This is her power?"

"It makes the most sense," said Shelby, clasping her hands together, "And as far as I know, your mother could never stop or control her powers. She could only let them thrive. When she did, it made her better."

"You're saying I shouldn't try to control my powers?" 

"I'm saying you shouldn't try to hold yourself back. If you give into your powers, you'll learn about them and about yourself. The the control will come later."

xxx

"Hi, Buffy."

Buffy turned from the haphazard salad bar in the school's cafeteria to face Brittany, who was smiling shyly and carrying a tray of rubbery cheese pizza and watermelon punch.

"What's up, Brittany?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to ask how you were doing," Brittany shrugged.

Buffy's smile was small. "Thanks, Brittany. I'm doing..." Buffy paused before a rehearsed 'fine' could escape her mouth, "As best I can."

"Me too," Brittany replied, looking down at her tray, "Yesterday, Mike - before everything got weird - he said that even you need help sometimes."

Buffy flinched. "He did?"

"Yeah. And that made me feel better because if you get scared sometimes it makes it okay for me to be scared sometimes. And I just want to be more like you."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Like me? Why?"

Brittany shrugged, her cheeks getting pink. "You're the kind of girl Santana would fall in love with."

Buffy opened her mouth, unsure of how to respond to that. She didn't realize just how alike she and Brittany were.

"She fell in love with you, too, once."

"Yeah, but then I let her go, because I was scared. I don't want to do that anymore. Get scared and let go. I don't want to do things just because they're safe anymore. Like Artie. He's cute and he's sweet and he'd never leave me because I'm so out of his league and because he can't run away or anything. But it's not good enough. It's supposed to be more. You're supposed to feel..."

"Butterflies?"

"Mountain goats."

Buffy laughed, and her laugh got quieter and Brittany could tell she was feeling something sad. "I know, Brittany. But you don't want to be like me. Sometimes I swear it's like I do things just because they're dangerous. I get people hurt."

"No, you save people. I've seen you."

Buffy let out a humorless laugh. "So you and Artie...?"

"We broke up."

"I'm sorry, Brittany."

"It's okay. I mean, I don't regret dating him, because he says he still loves me and we can still be friends. But it's still sad."

"Of course. I'm glad you talked to me, Brittany. I never really thought of us as friends before."

Brittany shrugged with a smile. "Do you maybe want to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance?"

"With you?" 

"In a friend way, not a sexy way. You're super hot but I'm just not that into you."

Buffy grinned. "Yes, Brittany, I would like that."

"Great. Maybe things will start to be better around here."

"I'm sure it-"

A strangled yell cut Buffy's sentence short. The girls turned to one of the nearby plastic picnic tables to see a boy spitting out a mouthful of bread. Small, black snakes slithered out of his sandwich. He dropped it onto the table's surface, him and his friends jumping back. Brittany looked down at her cafeteria tray and dropped it onto the floor with a loud crash, black snakes writhing on her plate. The snakes wriggled on every table and in bucketfuls on the salad bar. Buffy backed away, cursing her wishful thinking.

xxx

"Remember our plan to contact the spirit and find out what it wants?" asked Quinn, "Well, let's scrap that plan."

Buffy leaned against her window pane, nodding in agreement. After the chaos of the snakes in the cafeteria that Principal Figgins had chalked up to backed up sewer pipes, Buffy was refreshed to find that her friends were not scared, but pissed, and she was now holding one of her largest Scooby Gang meetings in her bedroom with Brittany, Tina, Mike, Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes and Sam present.

"Buffy's right," said Rachel, "The time for touchy-feely communication is long passed."

"There's only one solution," said Tina.

"We nuke the school?" Sam asked hopefully.

"No. Exorcism."

"Isn't that a little dangerous?" asked Mercedes.

"I've seen those movies," Brittany nodded, "Even the priests died."

"I have a plan," said Tina, "The hall outside the girls' locker room is where the teacher was killed. That makes it the hotspot for negative energy. So if we all pair up, two people can take the hotspot and the other three pairs can take three other areas that surround it. Together, we can bind the spirit and stop all of this."

"I'll take the hotspot," said Buffy, "They don't call me the slayer for nothing. Brittany can come with me."

"I can?" asked Brittany, looking up.

"She can?" Rachel asked dubiously.

"Yeah. We've both seen the possessions in action. We know what to expect. At least, I think we do."

xxx

"Kurt, where were you?"

Blaine had opened the door to his dorm room to see Kurt out of uniform hours after lights-out. Kurt walked into his boyfriend's small single room, his eyes trailing over the crumpled clothes on the ground and flyers for upcoming fencing tournaments cluttering the desk.

"Having a really enlightenig discussion with Shelby," Kurt said slowly, removing his scarf from under the collar of his trench coat.

"What did you find out?" asked Blaine, his wide brown eyes blazing with interest.

"These are my mother's powers, like you suspected."

Blaine sat down at the edge of his unmade bed and patted the space next to him, beckoning Kurt to take a seat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Kurt, sitting down, "She tried to transfer her powers to me when I was little and this is how they're manifesting."

"Wow," Blaine breathed, "So what does this mean? You can learn how to control them?"

"That's the thing. I don't think I'm supposed to. Shelby says to let them thrive so that I can learn about them. And then I'll be able to control them without trying."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"What else can I do? I mean, they get in the way of a lot of things but it's different now. Whether I want them or not, these powers are a gift. A gift that my mother gave me. Rejecting them would be... out of the question."

Blaine nodded. "Okay. So that's settled. You don't hold your powers back anymore. That's okay."

"Is it?"

"Of course."

"Because I know you said you have nothing to hide-"

"I don't. Not when it comes to you."

"Well, neither do I."

Kurt looked at his boyfriend, whose black curls were tussled from lying against his pillow. He sheer white fleece clung against his lean shoulders and his dark brown eyes, though soft and round and young, betrayed his wolfish intensity. Kurt slid his hand over Blaine's and let himself here the echo of his thoughts and the blurred images of himself and heat and the moon.

"I love you," said Kurt.

"I love you, too," Blaine replied, and Kurt could feel the truth of that statement without having to hear his boyfriend's thoughts.

He leaned in and kissed the shorter boy, breathing in his smell and hearing his mind even more clearly the closer they got. Wordlessly and enthusiastically they peeled the clothes off of each other and burrowed under Blaine's sheets. With their skin pressed together, Kurt felt like Blaine's thoughts were his own. In that moment, he knew everything his boyfriend felt and wanted and wondered and he answered every question with a kiss.

xxx

"Okay, we know our places," said Buffy, checking her watch as the Scoobies followed her into the school after night fell, each of them holding a long, black candle, "We light the candle and do the chant at midnight exactly. Questions?"

"Yeah," Mercedes raised a hand, "What if this doesn't work?"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Quinn exclaimed, searching into her envelope clutch, "I made us all protective scapulas."

Brittany frowned. "Are we making pancakes for the ghost?"

"_Scapula_," Quinn rolled her eyes, "You wear it like a necklace."

She removed a bunch of little sachets with leather cords attached to them from her purse and handed one to everyone.

"They smell funny," commented Sam.

"I didn't have a lot of time so I had to use sulphur," Quinn replied, hanging the sachet around her neck.

"Okay," Buffy said firmly after she slid hers over her head, "Let's do this."

xxx

"I want to dig myself a little burrow and sleep underground," Drusilla said chipperly as she dug through dirt in the garden, mud collecting under her long, sharp fingernails.

"What about your pretty nightclothes, sweet?" asked Spike, who sat from his chair and watched her near the back door, "They'll get all dirty."

"Then I'll sleep naked. Like the animals do."

"You know, I'm suddenly liking that plan," said Snix, grinning from the bottom step of the narrow staircase that ran along the edge of the house.

"Fortunately, no-one cares what you like," Spike said acidly.

"Oh, no? Let's ask Dru-"

Drusilla burst out into hysterical laughter and gasped, staring up at the sky. "Oooh. A gate is opening. I can feel it."

"Incoming," said Snix, leaning forward, "I love it when she does this."

"What gate, pet?" asked Spike, "What do you see?"

Drusilla rose to her feet, humming softly, her hands covered in dirt. "It's black. And it wants her."

"Wants who?"

"The slayer. She's ready for you now, my angel. She's dancing with death tonight."

"This whole Buffy thing has run its course," said Snix, standing up, "I'm ready to focus my energy somewhere else."

"Really?" Spike raised a scarred eyebrow.

"Mm hm. I figure I should stick with something close to home, what with you being Mr. Special Needs and Dru needing a nice firm pair of hands."

xxx

Quinn and Rachel moved through McKinley's northern area, heading towards the lounge and clutching the scapulas around their necks. Once they were out of sight of the others, Rachel had slid her hand into Quinn's for comfort. They didn't speak as they moved slowly through the school, but when a dark figure darted out of the arches of the choir room, the girls screamed.

"Mr. Schuester?!" Rachel gasped.

"Quinn, Rachel, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be in the school after dark."

"What about you?" challenged Quinn, as she and Rachel hid their unlit candles behind their backs.

"I'm trying to... I think I'm close to contacting Emma. What's that smell?"

"I made scapulas."

"With sulphur?" 

Quinn nodded.

"Good thinking. Well, you girls should leave. I don't want you in the line of fire if I make contact tonight."

"Okay," Rachel nodded, "Night."

xxx

Buffy headed through one of the second floor hallways when the faint sound of music floated from one of the classrooms. An old-fashioned love song. It sounded haunting in the darkness as she clutched her candle. On the wall, a flyer for the Sadie Hawkins dance was held up with tape, but it wasn't the ones the Event Planning Committee had made. It looked old, with a cartoon of a girl in a poodle skirt winking in the corner.

Buffy walked into the classroom and felt transported into one of Kurt's vivid visions of the past. A record player snapped and crackled along with the melodic love song and two people danced in the middle of the classroom. It was James and the young teacher he was having an affair with, Ms. Newman. They were staring into each other's eyes, utterly lost. Even Buffy couldn't look away. Slowly, James looked away from Ms. Newman and stared directly at Buffy, his face suddenly that of a corpse.

xxx

"Come on," Quinn ushered Rachel onto the floor of the lounge, quickly lighting the candle and checking her watch, "Soon."

After a moment of silence, the cement and tiles of the ground beside them broke open and Rachel screamed as a decayed blue hand reached out from it, grasping for them. The arm grabbed Quinn's ankle, pulling her into the ground. Rachel stood up and hooked her arms under Quinn's, pulling her away from the monster.

"Quinn!" Will cried, running out of the choir room and into the lounge, stomping at the corpse hand until it retreated into the ground.

Rachel and Quinn both tumbled to the ground. "Mr. Schuester," Rachel whimpered.

"It's okay, Rachel."

"This isn't Ms. Pillsbury. It's not."

"I know," sighed Will, "I know."

"I'm sorry," Quinn said softly.

xxx

Buffy sprinted to the hall outside of the girls' locker room, where Brittany was waiting, the candles already lit.

"What took you so long?" she asked, looking spooked.

"Let's hurry," Buffy said shakily, powerful images running through her head, of James' gun, of Ms. Newman's blood pooling on the ground, of James returning to the classroom with that repetitive song still playing, the singer crooning, 'I only have eyes for you' as James lifts the gun to his temple.

Buffy dropped to her knees and her watch beeped as it turned midnight.

"Buffy!"

"Brittany, read the words," said Buffy, clutching her hands over her head.

Brittany took the folded piece of notebook paper Tina had given her and started to read despite the ball in her throat. "I shall confront and expel all evil, out of marrow and bone-"

Buffy cried out in pain as the visions tormented her mind.

"Buffy?"

"Keep reading!" 

"Out of house and home," Brittany said, louder, "Never to come here again!"

A breeze picked up in the hall and blew out the candle. Buffy took her hands away from her head and looked up at the stillness of the school. She locked eyes with Brittany as an ominous buzzing began.

"Run!" she yelled and stood quickly, grabbing Brittany's hand as a swarm of black wasps raced towards them through the hall.

They ran to the entrance and escaped out into the open air with the rest of the Scoobies and Will. They didn't stop, all nine of them hightailing it away from the campus. Once they were far enough, they slowed down and looked back to see the school enveloped in a dark, whirring cloud that could only be the gigantic mass of wasps. They exchanged terrified glances.

"What do we do?" asked Brittany, looking at Buffy.

"What does he want?" asked Sam.

"Forgiveness," Buffy said with certainty.

"How? He's playing this out over and over," said Tina, "Doomed to kill Ms. Newman again and again. Forgiveness is impossible."

"Good," Buffy clenched her jaw, "He doesn't deserve it."

"We don't forgive people because they deserve it, Buffy," Will said quietly, "We do it because they need it."

"No," Buffy said spitefully, turning to face her teacher, "He destroyed the person he loved the most because he got carried away. It's unforgivable. He knew that it was wrong and stupid and selfish and he did it anyway. He's going to have to live with that."

"He can't live with it, Buffy," said Mike, "He's dead."

Buffy paused, at a loss for words. She turned from the Scoobies, embarrassed at her outburst, and stuffed her hands into her coat pocket, feeling crumpled paper. She removed the paper from her pocket to see it was the Sadie Hawkins flyer. Calm washed over Buffy's face.

"I have to go back," she said, stuffing the flyer back into her pocket.

"What? Buffy, you can't," said Will, "The spirit is too angry-"

Before he could stop her, she took off running towards the school. She slowed down at the entrance and went up the steps, the swarm of wasps parting to let her in and closing again around the building once she was inside.

"Is she crazy?!" Quinn exclaimed as the rest of them ran towards the school, stopping at a safe distance from the campus.

"I think the spirit's making her go," said Will.

"Why?"

"He's doing it again. Possessing her. Trying to make a different ending."

"But he can't," said Rachel, "Buffy's going to get shot!"

"No, there's no-one else inside," Will shook his head, "No-one else for James to possess."

xxx

Buffy slumped against the wall outside the girls' locker room, waiting and not sure what she was waiting for, until a dark figure appeared at the end of the hall.

"Fun fact? Wasps don't have much of a taste for the undead."

Snix stepped into the moonlight that was pouring in through one of the windows.

"You're the only one," Buffy frowned, "The only person I can talk to."

"Gosh, Buffy. That's really... pathetic."

"You can't make me disappear just because you say it's over."

"Actually," said Snix, walking towards her, "I can." She stopped a few feet away from Buffy, her expression growing softer. "I just want you to have a normal life. We can never have that. Don't you get it?"

"I don't give a damn about a normal life. I'm going crazy without you. I think about you every minute."

"I know," Santana smiled sadly, "But it's over. Accept it."

She turned, but Buffy angrily caught up with her and caught her arm, pulling her back.

"Come back here! We're not finished! You don't care anymore, is that it?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what I feel."

"Then tell me you don't love me! Say it!"

"Will that help? Is that what you have to hear? I don't. I don't! Now let me go!"

"No. A person doesn't just wake up one day and stop loving somebody," Buffy spat, raising the gun that had materialized in her hand, "Love is forever."

Santana's eyes widened at the sight of the gun. "Oh my God."

"I'm not afraid to use it," said Buffy, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, "If I can't be with you-"

Santana turned on her heel, trying to escape.

"Don't walk away from me, bitch! Stop! I mean, it, don't make me."

Santana stopped, terrified, and turned slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please. Let's both just calm down. Give me the gun."

"Don't! Don't do that, damn it! Don't talk to me like I'm some dumb-" her finger jerked and she accidentally squeezed the trigger too hard. She recoiled back as a shot rang out and when she looked up, blood was pouring out of a hole in Santana's chest - straight through her heart.

She fell back onto the ground, blood pooling onto the tiles. Buffy looked at the gun in her hand in horror. The hall was silent except for her scared, raspy breath. She swallowed and tightened her grip on the gun, walking into the classroom where the song was still playing on repeat. _The moon may be high / But I can't see a thing in the sky / I only have eyes for you._

She stopped and looked at her reflection in one of the dark windows to find it was James looking back at her, disgust in his eyes. She listened to the music and brought the gun to her head, a tear dripping off of her chin.

"Don't do this."

Buffy looked away from the reflection as Santana approached her, gently taking the gun out of her hands.

"But... I killed you."

"It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault! How could I-"

"I'm sorry. I lied. I never stopped loving you. I loved you with my last breath."

Buffy started to cry harder, so hard she began to shake. Santana wrapped her arms around her.

"Shh. No more tears."

She brought her hand to Buffy's narrow chin and lifted her head, pressing her lips against the blonde's. Buffy sank into the kiss and opened her eyes, the gentle look still lingering on the vampire's face.

"Santana?"

Her eyes went cold and Snix pulled her arms away from Buffy, spinning around and darting out of the school. Buffy stood still for a moment, until she wiped the tears from her swollen face and pulled the needle away from the record, making the music screech and the room turn silent.

xxx

"Buffy didn't come?"

Days later, Will had donned an old black suit to chaperone McKinley's Sadie Hawkins dance. He found the Scoobies dressed and slumped ungracefully at a table decorated with gossamer cloth and plastic champagne flutes. None of them were up for a party.

"No," Tina frowned, looking up at Will, her hair tied up in a glossy bun, "If I knew she was gonna bail, I would have as well."

"We all would have," said Quinn.

"She was supposed to be my date," Brittany sighed.

"No-one's gonna hold it against you if you leave early," said Will, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

"Ditto," said Mike, frowned sympathetically at his teacher.

Will nodded curtly. "I'll be at the refreshments table."

He left the sulking teenagers and crossed the decorated gym to the long, narrow table that held the deep punch bowl and scattered paper plates of pigs-in-a-blanket. He started stacking a plate with cocktail sausages and worrying about Buffy, who was either lying in bed, revelling in the fresh remorse of her losses or getting an early start patrolling in the cemetery to release her aggression. Either way, it didn't sound like she was okay and he debated whether he should call her that night when he saw a familiar face.

"Shelby Corcoran?"

"Will Schuester," greeted the tall woman, wearing a dark blue pencil skirt, "Nice to see you again."

"Does Rachel know you're here?"

"No, no," Shelby shook her head, nervously glancing over at her daughter who was avidly chatting with the parents of her adopted child, "I was just talking to Principal Figgins and he invited me to get a glass of punch at the dance... They're not that lively, are they?"

"It's been a rough couple months."

"Of course. Lima's always been... different. I have to admit I was nervous about coming back here."

"Are you back for good?"

Shelby nodded. "In fact I just paid a deposit on a nice little apartment for Beth and I."

"Good for you."

"Well, it's the best I can get on the salary McKinley's offering."

"You've got a job here? At McKinley?" Will raised an eyebrow, "As what?"

Shelby paused. "I'm the new guidance counselor."


	68. The Tomb

**a/n: I'm freaking out because I just realized that Ryder sang 'I Only Have Eyes For You' in the Sadie Hawkins episode of Glee. Wish I'd remembered that when I was writing the last chapter.**

Tina had visited Ohio's closest ancient history museum many times, but never had she accepted an invitation from the curator. She clinged excitedly to her black pleather purse as a docent lead her past doors that read 'Staff Only'. She'd repeatedly asked the scrawny, red-haired employee wearing a nametag that read 'Albert' what this was all about, but he

was unable to answer her questions.

He led her to a small room at the end of a narrow hallway and she stepped past him to take in the overwhelming sight of a slab of rock, at least three feet taller than her, and twice as wide. Two workers brushed dust and dirt off of it with brushes. A broad-shouldered, sandy-haired man in reading glasses watching over them.

"Careful. Concentrate on this spot," he called down to the archeologists.

Tina lifted her chin to look at the man in charge. "Hello?"

He turned around, his hands on his hips. "Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"Yes?"

"Doug Pierce," he strode forward and shook her hand, "Wow, I did not expect you to be so young."

"Pierce?" Tina smirked, "You aren't Brittany Pierce's father, are you?"

"Oh, you know Brittany?" Mr. Pierce smiled.

"I go to high school with her."

"I'll be damned. The Washington Institute made you sound... older."

Tina raised an eyebrow. "The Washington Institute?"

"Of ancient history. I wanted to consult an expert, and they directed me to you. You submitted all those papers on ancient artefacts and their roles in the occult. Figured you were the best authority on obscure relics in Ohio."

"Well, that's... an exaggeration..." Tina blushed.

"Thank you for coming, really," Doug nodded.

Tina cleared her throat, embarrassed by the flattery. "So, what is that?" she asked, nodding to the massive slab of rock.

"That's our baby," said Doug, "Construction crew dug it up outside of town."

He led her towards the massive monument as the archeologists brushed dirt out of the crevices of carved letters.

"It's not unlike a sarcophagus," said Tina, almost under her breath. She lifted her hand and hovered a finger in front of a faint line running up the middle of the rock. "May I?" she asked, holding a hand out for a brush.

One of the archeologists shrugged and placed a thin brush in her hand, watching with curiosity.

"Have you tried to open it?" she asked.

"Open it?"

Tina flicked dirt away from the line, revealing a deep, even crack.

"I figured it was solid. What do you think's inside?"

"Maybe I can translate the text and see if it tells us before we open it."

"You don't like surprises?"

"No, not much."

"Alright, I'll trust you. I'm pretty damn curious, though."

"Yeah. So am I."

xxx

"Is it weird for you? Having her at school every day?"

Buffy tucked her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she shuffled through clothes and magazines strewn on her bedroom floor.

"It is pretty awkward, but nowhere near as dramatic as I imagined in fantasies," Rachel said on the other line.

"You've had fantasies where Shelby became the school's new guidance counselor?"

"Well, more like fantasies where Shelby became a famous Broadway director and a created a musical based on Barbra Streisand and I was chosen to play the leading lady. I guess this is as close as I'm ever gonna get."

Buffy smirked. Shelby Corcoran had worked at McKinley High for a couple days now, consoling dramatic freshmen and giving college recommendations and career guidance to stressed out seniors. So far, she seemed to like her job, but everyone in the school was aware that she didn't have the same cheerful demeanour that Ms. Pillsbury carried around with her. Especially Will.

Buffy tossed a sweat-soaked tank top in the hamper. "How've you been?"

"I've been... okay. But my problems are manageable. I'm more interested in how you've been. You didn't come to the Sadie Hawkins dance last weekend."

"I wasn't really up for it. Dancing and spiked punch and merriment. I was more in a mopey kind of place after seeing Santana again. I mean... Snix."

"Do you feel better now?"

"I'm still pretty confused. Frustrated. I know I have to kill her. I knew it after Ms. Pillsbury died and I know it even more now. This has to stop."

"You're really anxious to get this over with, huh?"

"More than you know."

Buffy lifted a leather jacket that was half peeking out from under her bed and turned out the sleeves and pockets to find a half finished pack of Lifesavers, a mini bottle of holy water and a thick roll of parchment. Buffy stared at the foreign language written in ink against the discolored papyrus.

"Rachel... you said that Shelby was helping Quinn find a way to find Santana's soul, right?"

"...Well, yes, but by the time they figure out how to do it... Who knows what Snix could do in that time."

"What's stopping them? What do they need?"

"Well, something like a translation for some sort of ritual-"

"A Romanian ritual?"

xxx

The black iron gate creaked from the back of the garden as Drusilla opened it and walked in, her white dress catching on thorns and wildflowers.

"Nice walk, pet?" asked Spike, lying back in his chair by the door.

"I met an old man," she replied, "I didn't like him. He got stuck in my teeth. And then the moon started whispering to me. All sorts of dreadful things."

"Naughty moon."

"What did it say?" Snix stood on the second floor balcony with her hands gripping the ledge as she looked down at her cohorts in a long robe draped over her silk black teddy.

"Oh, look who's awake," Spike rolled his eyes.

Snix ignored him and started to walk down the staircase, her eyes trained on Drusilla's frame under the moonlight. "What did the moon tell you? Did you have a vision? Is something cool gonna happen?"

"Oh yes..." Drusilla breathed in her through her nose, raising her head to the sky, "Something terrible."

"Where?"

"The museum. There's a tomb. With a surprise inside," she added with a devilish smile.

Snix smiled warmly and walked over, outstretching her hand and caressing Drusilla's cheek. "You saw all that in your head?"

"No, you ninny, she read it in the morning paper," Spike grumbled, holding up 'The Daily Lima' in his hand.

Snix raised an eyebrow at Dru, who simply shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Well, let's see it," Snix sighed, walking over to Spike and snatching the paper from his hands.

She was pleasantly surprised to recognize the black and white picture that accompanied the article about the ancient history museum's newest find. She recognized it from one of the books on demonology her dad... - uncle - used to have, back when she found the subject interesting, before she'd started to resent her adoptive parents' passion and gotten into cheerleading just so she'd have her own thing.

"Is that what's been whispering to me?" Drusilla asked over her shoulder.

"Mm hm. Don't worry, though. It'll stop soon. It'll be screaming."

xxx

Jesse wheeled a large cushioned stroller into The Lima Bean, with Beth cooing inside, drooling all over his leather wallet. He was grateful for his surprising knack for childcare, and for how much Shelby's blonde little cherub adored him, because he knew it was the only reason Shelby agreed to hire him as Beth's full-time nanny when she got a job at McKinley High.

He rolled the stroller up to a square table with four seats and sat down just as Quinn walked through the doors, her blond hair bobbing against her shoulders and a messenger bag strung over the sleeve of her lace peacoat. Puck followed her in, running a hand over his shaved head.

"Look, Elizabeth, it's Mommy and Daddy," Jesse cooed as they approached.

"Don't call us that," Quinn sharply corrected, setting her bag down and taking a seat.

Quinn and Puck had been visiting Beth more and more since Shelby settled into her apartment in Lima, and even more so now that Jesse took Beth out on 'field trips' during their lunch breaks.

"You know it's just Beth, right?" Puck asked, leaning his hands against the back of a chair.

"That's not short for anything? I've been calling her Elizabeth all day," Jesse smirked.

"No, dude, like the KISS song."

Jesse wrinkled his nose.

"Don't worry, baby," Puck said softly, leaning into Beth's stroller as she looked back up at him with wide brown eyes, "If you take after your old man, you'll have way more appreciation for classic rock than your metro manny."

"Coffee order?" Quinn asked, her eyes darting between the boys.

"Black, two sugars. No, three. Thanks," said Puck.

"Iced orange spice frappucino, extra frothy, no chocolate powder. And a bran muffin. No raisins," said Jesse, "Actually, raisins are fine. No nuts, though."

Quinn rolled her eyes as her old-fashioned ringtone sounded in her pocket. She answered quickly when she saw the name on the screen.

"Shelby? What is it?" she asked.

She and Shelby kept in close correspondence as they researched day and night for Santana's cure, but Shelby rarely called her during school hours. The boys watched Quinn listen intently, her eyes getting wider with each passing second.

"Oh my God," Quinn breathed, and looked at Jesse, "We have to get to McKinley. Now."

"What is it? Did we find something?"

Quinn shoved the phone back into her pocket and picked her bag back up. "Oh, we found something."

xxx

"This is a difficult subject for all of us."

Kurt watched his principal's hands like a dog as he clasped them together and rested them on his mahogany desk. Principal Schaffer had salt and pepper hair and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes no matter his expression. Kurt stared at the thin hairs on his knuckles as he sat snugly in between his father and his stepmother opposite the desk.

"That's where I disagree, pal, because we don't know what the subject is," Burt said curtly.

Principal Schaffer had called them to his office without giving them a reason, but Kurt had a strong suspicion that he was in trouble.

"Kurt's behavior has been less than satisfactory since he began at Dalton. We were impressed with his transcripts when we accepted him, but since then, his involvement in the academy has been disappointing."

Burt squirmed in his seat and side-eyed his son. "Well, it's been a difficult couple months for Kurt. Family issues."

"Of course, but you have to understand that we expect all of our students to uphold the same standards. Kurt's been skipping classes, missing too many days. His grades have been slipping dangerously low. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't allowed to take his AP classes next year-"

"Okay," Carole held up her hand, "He hasn't been the model student. We know that. But Kurt is just getting back on the horse after being through... a lot of... new things. He'll get better. He'll buckle down and study and be punctual. He's a good kid. An amazing kid."

Principal Schaffer sighed. "Kurt?"

Kurt looked up at his principal's face. "Uh, yeah. I mean, I've been a little lost for the last couple months, but I've always been a good student. I can be one again."

Schaffer nodded, not entirely convinced. "Some of Kurt's teachers feel that perhaps Dalton is too academically demanding for Kurt."

Burt knitted his eyebrows. "Kurt's a smart kid. Took AP Chemistry for three years. Practically fluent in French. He can keep up with all these Harvard hopefuls. He just needs a little self discipline is all."

"Well, I would love to see Kurt's behavior improve, I truly would, but we here at Dalton don't tend to take risks, and Kurt, as he is now, proves to be a risk for our school's reputation," said Principal Schaffer, leaning back in his seat, fiddling with a heavy silver Dalton Academy pen.

"And God forbid a kid who goes through a rough time for a couple of months sullies your precious reputation."

"Burt," Carole said softly.

"I'm sorry, but Kurt's a great kid and you would be lucky to have him here."

Principal Schaffer pursed his lips and nodded. "I agree. But if he doesn't pass all of his final exams, I'll have no choice but to expel him."

"_Expel him_? Are you insane?" Burt fumed, his face getting red.

"Burt," Carole said again, and turned to Schaffer, "Kurt will pass his classes, Mr. Schaffer. You won't need to do anything drastic."

"I hope not," Schaffer sighed, "Thank you for your time."

They all stood and left the office, Burt giving Schaffer one last glare.

"Can you believe that guy?" he said aloud as they walked through the hallway of Dalton's administrative building, passing scalloped wallpaper, backless wood benches and white Grecian columns.

Kurt's stomach turned at the thought of flunking his classes and being expelled after his dad and Carole spent so much money on his tuition.

"It's okay, Burt," Carole said reasonably, putting her arm over Kurt's shoulders, "Nothing bad's going to happen. Kurt may be a little behind but that not something we can't help. He can get help from me. From Tina. From Blaine, who I'm sure is on top of things."

Kurt started to blush.

"Heck, even Finn is pretty good at Social Studies," Carole continued, "Kurt will be just fine."

"Thanks, Carole," Kurt said quietly as they made their way out to the parking lot.

"I gotta get back to the shop. Got a leaky carburetor to fix by the end of the day," said Burt, unlocking the truck.

"You want to come with me, Kurt?" asked Carole, heading towards her mini-van a few spaces away, and added in a sing-song voice, "I'm passing a frozen yogurt place on the way home."

Kurt smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

He jumped into the passenger's seat, grateful for a little bonding time with his stepmother. When she and his father got engaged, he had plenty of time to take her shopping, help plan the wedding and watch The Real Housewives of various cities with her while vegging out in front of the TV. But ever since his powers and his mother's secrets started taking over his life, he didn't have much time for Carole. Since she had adjusted so easily and sympathetically to what Kurt was going through and the revelations of her husband's past, Kurt was even more grateful for her presence in their family.

"Don't worry about all of this, Kurt," Carole said as she drove through town, her hands slack on the steering wheel, "You've just gotten everything together. You'll be just fine. You're such a smart kid."

Kurt nodded. Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do was buckle down. Even though it was only his last couple weeks of school, his mind was far away from his grades. He couldn't care less about his GPA and his college prospects, even though he knew he should. His priorities have shifted and he was so sure how to shift them back.

"I was thinking..." said Kurt.

"Yeah?"

"I know I can handle Dalton's classes if I tried, but... it's really expensive, and you're going to have to pay tuition again next year, and all new books-"

"Kurt, that's not something you have to worry about. Your father and I can handle it."

"I know, it's just, the reason I left McKinley was because I was being bullied, and it was unbearable, but I feel like a different person since I started at Dalton. Since all of this craziness happened. More than anything, I feel stronger."

"Are you saying you'd like to go back to McKinley this year? You won't miss Blaine?"

"Of course I will. I just don't want to run from my problems anymo-"

Kurt cried out in pain and jerked forward, clutching his temple.

"Kurt!" Carole swerved the car, "What's wrong?"

"It's okay," Kurt assured her through clenched teeth, "I'm... seeing something."

Flashing images forced their way into his vision, no matter how wide he opened his eyes. There was darkness. A flash of light. Buffy and Santana, their chests heaving, their expressions weary. Just as they looked like they were about to kiss, Buffy plunged a sword into Santana's chest, and the vision stopped.

Carole stopped in traffic, staring at her stepson, alarmed and frightened.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, wincing from the dull ache in his head, "I just saw something."

"Something bad?"

"I don't know."

xxx

"What are you saying?" asked Quinn, not quite believing what she was hearing.

She, Puck and Jesse had met Shelby in her office where she was talking rapidly with Buffy and Mr. Schuester. Rachel, Mike and Tina quickly joined them, surprised by the news of the long forgotten Romanian translations Buffy had received from Angel and lost in the midst of her deadly fever.

"The curse," said Buffy, "Angel's curse. This is it."

"The Romani rituals," said Shelby, "These are their translations."

"To restore Santana's soul?" asked Tina, "I thought it couldn't be done."

"We're not saying it can be," said Shelby, "Not yet. It'll take a lot of practise and a lot of power. This is very advanced black arts. More advanced than anything I've ever done."

"We can do that," said Quinn, "You and Jesse already know so much, and I've been studying, and Rachel..."

She looked at the brunette, her wavy hair falling over the shoulders of her cardigan.

"I'm not... powerful," Rachel shrugged, uncharacteristically shy.

"But you are special," said Quinn, "And it's just a little more natural magic to add to the ritual."

"It's not that simple, Quinn. Something as dark as this could open a door you may not know how to close," Shelby warned.

"Who cares?!" Quinn exclaimed, "This is Santana we're talking about!"

Quinn looked back at Jesse, who was bobbing Beth up and down on his hip. He just gave her a sympathetic looked and stayed silent. He knew Shelby was right.

"I don't want to put anyone else in danger," Buffy said calmly.

"Yeah, and I don't want Santana dead," Quinn said heatedly, before her voice softened and she looked at Buffy, "Look, I get it. If you have to kill Santana, you're only doing it to protect everyone else. But if there's a chance that we can _help_ Santana-"

"Why should we?" Mike asked aloud.

"Mike-" said Tina.

"No, Santana's a killer. The more time we waste, the more victims pile up. And who do we blame then? The murderer, or the people who could've stopped her, but didn't?"

"It's not that simple," said Buffy, "What happened to Santana wasn't her fault. This isn't _her_. This is a demon, in her body, using her to spread evil. I know Santana. This isn't her."

"You can paint this however you want," said Mike, "But they way I see it is that you want to forget all about Ms. Pillsbury's murder just so you can have your girlfriend back."

A silence fell over the room.

"Wow, even I know that was insensitive," Puck sighed.

"Am I wrong?" asked Mike, turning to his girlfriend, challenging her glare.

"Yes, you are," said Buffy, "I did not forget about Ms. Pillsbury. I remember every day. She was someone I couldn't save and I hate myself for it."

"Buffy-" Will reached out his hand.

"No, I do. I hate myself. But if there's a chance I can save Santana, then I have to do that. I have to save people. It's what I'm good for. And this isn't about getting my 'girlfriend' back. The person we get back will not be Santana. She will be a hollow, guilt-ridden person with nothing but repentance and self-loathing on her mind after the things she's done. But it's better than nothing."

xxx

Doug set up a desk in the back room of the museum, dim light from his desk lamp spilling over his paperwork and showing off the dark outline of the tomb against the wall. He had been spending more and more time at the museum when he should've been at home, with his wife, and his two daughters. He slipped his fingers under his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose, worrying about Brittany, who grew more quiet and distant everyday ever since her friendship with Santana abruptly ended.

Just as he started to yearn for the feel of his pillow under his head, he heard whispers rush past his ears. He looked up, alert and unsure of whether he'd imagined it or not.

"Danny?" he called the names of one of the archeologists, "That you?"

He heard the whispers again, not being able to decipher a single word. His eyes shifted towards the tomb and he rose from his seat, curious, and disturbed. He walked towards it and placed a hand on its front, the whispers growing louder. He took his hand away, and they got quieter. He raised an eyebrow and brought his hand back, his heart beating faster as the whispers grew louder once again.

His heart jumped in his chest as a hand clamped over his mouth and several sharp teeth sunk into the sensitive skin on his neck. He screamed into the cold mouth.

Snix walked in, flanked by minions, and threw a warm smile at Drusilla as she hungrily fed on the museum curator.

"Mr. Pierce, long time no see," she waggled her fingers at the man, writhing in Drusilla's grasp, "Let's see, I'll have one of those."

She pointed a finger at the tall tomb and threw a look at her minions. They rushed to the tomb and threw heavy duty thread ropes over it.

"Be careful," she ordered, "Your weak imitations of life depend on it."

xxx

Buffy laid an arm over the surface of her bedroom armoire and swept an arsenal of stakes, crosses and holy water into her gear bag when her cellphone rang. Her mind was muddled ever since her scooby meeting at school. She didn't want to get her hopes up about the restoration spell. If it didn't work out, she'd have to grieve all over again.

She picked up the phone on the end of the bed to see a square picture of Kurt cropped out of the glee club after winning Sectionals in their sophomore year.

"What's up?"

"Another vision."

"Oh boy," Buffy sighed, "Lay it on me."

"Basically? You kill Santana."

Buffy breathed in deep. Kurt's vision was confirming Buffy's fears.

"But sometimes your visions are vague, right? Metaphorical. You had a vision Santana cracked my neck at the Bronze and it meant something else."

"My visions are getting more and more realistic," Kurt said reluctantly, "I didn't even go unconscious for this one. Just got a killer migraine."

Buffy breathed through her nose. "But they can change, right? The visions you have can be stopped."

"I don't know," Kurt sighed on the other line, "I'm sorry. I wish I was more of a help, Buffy."

"No, it's fine. Thank you. I gotta go patrol."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye."

Buffy tossed her phone back on the bed. She'd been prepared to kill Santana a week ago. A day ago. But now? Santana's soul being restored was a very real possibility. She couldn't turn away from that. She strung her gear bag over her shoulder and trotted downstairs.

"Where are you going?"

Buffy looked through the arch to the living where her mother was lounging on the couch, a thin cotton blanket thrown over her legs.

"Uh, Tina's. To study. Got two finals tomorrow."

"Okay, well, make sure you actually study. Don't just waste your time online all night."

"We won't," she said as she tightened her grip on her bag, forcing a wooden cross to fall out and clatter on the floor. Joyce narrowed her eyes at it.

"Oh, um," Buffy mumbled, bending down to pick it up, "I've been getting sort of religious lately."

"Well, your father and I were both agnostic. We always thought we should let you decide for yourself."

"I'm just kind of... soul searching."

"Well... that's good. Get a ride home if you come back late."

Buffy nodded and headed out. She walked down the street, heading closer to Lima Cemetery near the town's border, when she heard a rustle in the tall, rectangular hedges at the edges of Rovello Drive. She felt someone step behind and whirled around, holding her hands defensively in front of her and her feet apart.

She was surprised to see the short figure in front of her and straightened up.

"You know, it's in bad form not to call before you jump out of the bushes and attack someone," she smirked.

Sunshine Corazon grinned under her thick-framed glasses. "Just testing your reflexes. I was on the way to your house and saw you walking. I couldn't help myself."

"Don't think I'm not glad to see you, but, why are you here? Wait, let me guess, your watcher told you that a dark force is on the rise in Lima."

"That's about it."

"Great," Buffy's head rolled back, "Did he give you any idea what this dark power might be?"

xxx

The minions dropped the tomb on the dining room floor, kicking up dust underneath it. Snix leered up at it, gleeful. Spike rolled his wheelchair under the archway and stared at it, unimpressed.

"It's a big rock," he said sarcastically, "I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a rock this big."

"You sound like you flunked History, Spike," Snix smirked.

"Give us a lesson, then."

"This big cutie's name is Acathla. A demon who tried to swallow the world, killed by the knight in shining armour. Acathla turned to stone because sometimes demons do that," she said matter-of-factly, "Boys?"

Two minions clutched crowbars and wedged the tomb open, the front falling against the floor with a thunderous thud. A stone demon stood inside, a grimace on his mutilated face, fangs sticking up from his bottom teeth. A stone sword stuck straight out of his chest.

"Ooh, he fills my head," Drusilla moaned as she wandered in, her hands clutched over her raven hair, "I can't hear anything else."

"Let me guess. Someone pulls out the sword-" said Spike.

"Someone worthy," Snix interrupted.

"-then the demon wakes up and wackiness ensues."

"He will swallow the world," Drusilla said with certainty.

"And every living creature on this planet will take up permanent residence in Hell," Snix smiled, her eyes on the demon, "We're about to make history end."

xxx

Tina hung up the house phone in the hall and walked back into the den, where Buffy was sitting with her hands under her thighs and Sunshine removed a long, quiver-like leather hull from over her shoulder and set it down on the coffee table. Her stomach turned as Buffy looked up at her.

"The tomb is missing. And... they killed Mr. Pierce, the curator. Brittany's father."

Buffy started to feel sick. "Who? Who killed him?"

Tina wrung her hands together. "Vampires."

Buffy grimaced. "Snix," she said under her breath, "God, maybe Mike was right. The longer we wait, the more damage she'll cause. I have to do it. I have to kill her."

"Wait," Tina squirmed, "Just, you should probably take care of this demon thing first. We should, together."

Buffy put a hand to her temple. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. You mind explaining the whole 'suck the world into Hell' thing?"

"Right. Well, according to legend, Acathla's breath can create a vortex to a Hell dimension. Like a whirlpool that sucks our world into theirs. Into Hell."

"So the literal kind of sucking. Great."

"You think Snix stole the tomb?" asked Sunshine.

"I'd be willing to bet."

"We don't know where she is, though. Their lair burned down," said Tina.

"Tina, go to Shelby and the others. I want them to start the ritual," said Buffy.

"Are you sure?" asked Sunshine before looking up at Tina, "I think agree with your boyfriend. Snix must be stopped."

"I'll fight Snix. I'll kill her if I have to. But if I lose, or if I don't find her in time, that curse is our only hope," said Buffy.

"That's not true," said Sunshine.

She reached for her bag and opened the latch, pushing the soft leather back to reveal a thin, silver longsword.

"Blessed by the knight who slew the demon Acathla," she said, holding it out to Buffy, "If all else fails, this might stop it."

"Well, let's hope all else doesn't fail," Buffy pursed her lips.

"Snix will have to do a ritual of her own to awaken Acathla," Tina added, "Hopefully that'll buy us some time."

xxx

Spike stood alone in his room, pacing back and forth, his mind racing, trying to make sense of what was happening and what he might do. His empty wheelchair lie in the corner as he wondered how to get out of this. He wanted to spill as much blood and wreak as much havoc as the next person, but an apocalypse? There were some pleasures that could only be described as earthly and he wasn't going to get them if he was surrounded by hellfire and brimstone.

"Spike?" Drusilla called from the hall.

Spike made a beeline for his wheelchair and fell in just as Drusilla entered the room, sweeping her arms emphatically in the air.

"Spike, love, the fun's about to start," she said excitedly.

"Seems more to me like the fun's about to end," he said bitterly.

"Don't be all gloomy."

"Darling, if this works, everything changes. In this world, we can be kings. In the next..." Spike shrugged.

"Don't worry about the next world. You'll always have me."

"Will I?"

A gurgling scream sounded downstairs.

"Oh, the blood ritual!" Drusilla hopped on her feet, "Let's go see!"

Spike sighed and let her wheel him downstairs and into the dining room where the statue of Acathla stood free from its tomb. Two minions held a young man with a goatee between them as they slit his throat and carried him toward Snix.

"I will drink," she chanted, "The blood will wash in me, over me and I will be cleansed. I will free Acathla. Bear witness, as I ascend. As I become..."

She grabbed the young man and buried her face into his neck, drinking with immense thirst. She dropped the boy, blood running down her chin and raised her hands to the ceiling.

"Everything I am, everything I have done, has led me here. This night, this act," she said, looking at the statue, "You will be free."

She put her hand firmly in the hilt of the sword and pulled.

**a/n: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Tell me what you thought. And in case anyone's wondering, there's no such thing as the Washington Institute of Ancient History.**


	69. Author's Note Regarding Cory Monteith

I was going to write an author's note regarding Cory Monteith's tragic passing at the beginning of my next chapter, but I decided instead to add a note on it's own. I, like many others, are heartbroken after hearing yesterday's news. At first, I thought it was some ill-informed internet gossip, but unfortunately, it wasn't. Although I had my fair share of problems with Finn Hudson, his character was undoubtedly complex, endearing and an important part of Glee's core message of love, self discovery and following your dreams. Cory played the part flawlessly and his talent, kindness and humbled sense of humor will be greatly missed. My heart not only goes out to his family, friends and girlfriend Lea Michele, but to his fans, whose lives have changed because of him, as well.

It wasn't until a few hours after hearing about his death, when my mom reminded me that I saw him in concert, that I started sobbing. He meant so much to a lot of people and even if his role in your life was a minor one, the absence can make you realize the fragility of human life. Now is the time for the Glee fandom to stick together, and I want to take this time to thank all of you, not just for reading, reviewing and supporting my story and my passion, but for being apart of my experience in this amazing community of devoted, funny, affectionate and enthusiastic fans. Feel free to PM me, e-mail me or message me on Tumblr anytime you want, if you need an extra ear or have something on your chest. Thank you, all of you, and thank you, Cory. Glee will never be the same and neither will the lives you touched.

Love, Sydney


	70. The Curse

**a/n: This chapter still needs to be re-edited by me, so forgive any mistakes you might find (like vampires entering without invitation) and I'll get around to rectifying them ASAP.**

**Chapter 68**

**The Curse**

A white light overwhelmed the sword that was stuck into Acathla's chest and a crackle of electricity sounded throughout the bare dining room. Snix reeled back with a loud booming sound and hit the ground hard. She twitched, an electric current running through her body. She gasped and lifted her head, confused by the silence that followed. The statue still stood there, unaffected, with the sword tucked in between it's ancient stone.

"Someone wasn't worthy," Spike singsonged, sitting in his wheelchair behind Drusilla at the archway entrance.

Snix's face contorted with rage as she brushed herself off and stood, glaring at the statue.

"Did I miss something? The ritual..." she raised her eyes to the ceiling, racking her brain, "I did it all. The incantation, the blood sacrifice... Dammit!"

She kicked the statue in frustration, her pointed black boots not making a dent.

"What are we going to do now?" Drusilla sulked.

Snix huffed and put her hands on her hips, her chest heaving. "We'll turn to an old friend," she said, like an angry promise, "I swear to God, I'm gonna get my apocalypse."

xxx

Buffy had both elbows on her desk, staring at her final Spanish exam, making bitemarks in her yellow pencil. She could just barely translate the questions Mr. Schuester had given the class, and was struggling to assemble an answer to them. How was she supposed to give her all to her final exams when she was dealing with Snix? She could just barely figure out _how _to deal with Snix. The choices were between killing her and stalling her until Shelby finishes her spell, if she _ever _finishes her spell.

But how could she wait any longer to stop Snix after so many had already died in her wake? Brittany hadn't shown up to school that day, not that anyone expected her to, after Snix's minions murdered her father. It's was probably smarter of Buffy to kill Snix before she does anymore damage, because even if they manage to restore Santana's soul, nothing would ever be the same between them and Santana would never forgive herself for what she's done.

Still, the thought of killing Santana, even after everything that's happened, was enough to make Buffy vomit with anxiety.

Buffy stared at a list of irregular verbs, her brow knitted tight, when the classroom door opened and what looked like an old woman wrapped in bulky clothes walked in. The whole class silently raised their heads at the strange figure wrapped up in a thick overcoat, a shawl wrapped around her head to obscure her face from their vision. Will, whose feet had been propped up on his desk, quickly took them down and looked up at the woman who was slowly wandering in.

"Tonight," said the woman, "Sundown. In the graveyards."

"Excuse me-" said Will.

The woman turned to Buffy, though no-one could be sure where her eyes were directed. "You will come to her."

The woman moved forward and pulled the shawl off of her head to reveal her face wrinkled and raised, fangs protruding from her mouth and her eyes glowing yellow. Buffy's classmates shrieked and jumped away from their desks, rushing away to the back of the classroom. The sunlight that raked in through the windows fell over the vampire woman, making her pale skin smoke. Buffy sat straight up in her desk, not letting her eyes leave the flaming vamp.

"You will come to her or more will die. Tonight!"

A girl at the back of the classroom screamed as the vampire went up in flames, crying, "Her hour is at hand!" before the flames engulfed her face and body, and she quickly burst into dust, her clothes crumpling to the ground.

Buffy didn't need any more deliberation. She knew what she had to do.

xxx

"She said more would die. I have to go."

"I should go with you," said Sunshine, standing beside her in bright red, thickly framed glasses and a ponytail.

The two slayers and Will talked in his office, with Mike, Tina, Rachel and Quinn, after all of them had witnessed the self-sacrifice of one of Snix's minions.

"No, I need you here," said Buffy, "Just in case. Besides, if Snix is fighting me, it means she's not doing this end of the world ritual. Quinn? Any luck?"

Quinn shuffled. "Jesse and Shelby are going to meet us in the choir room. We just need to cross check-"

"No time. If you're gonna do this, you have to do it now. I can't stall Snix any longer. I won't."

Quinn sighed. "We need maybe a half hour after we get set up. If you could just hold back for-"

"You know I can't," Buffy said sternly, "It's too much. If I find her, I have to kill her. Unless you think you can do this, and do it fast."

Quinn nodded, thinking of all the people that had died because they thought stalling Santana was a good idea.

"Buffy..." Mike frowned, "Be careful."

Buffy gave him a single nod. "I will."

xxx

Buffy stood in the dark cemetery, her eyes peeled through the moonlight. More than anything, she hated waiting.

"Hello, lover."

Buffy turned to see Snix standing before her, a familiar playful smirk on her face, though there was something nasty about it, like the sneer of someone who'd just been gossiping about you.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said as she started circling Buffy.

"Well, after such an elaborate invitation, I had to show. But, shouldn't you be destroying the world right about now?"

"There's time for later. I had to say goodbye first. You're the one thing in this universe I think I'm gonna miss."

Buffy grimaced. "Well, that's beautiful. Can we fight now?"

"I didn't come here to fight," Snix frowned with mock sadness.

"No?"

"No, I was hoping we could get back together. What do you think? You want to give it a shot?"

Buffy pursed her lips, glaring at the vampire.

"Fine. Let's fight."

xxx

Jesse had put Beth to sleep in her crib before they all drew the curtains in the den and lit candles, all of them sitting in a circle except for Mike, who burned sage and swung it around the room, filling it would dim, grey-green smoke. Shelby had painted a symbol on her forehead and was staring at the orb in front of her, rested on the carpet.

"Quod perditum est, invenietur," Quinn chanted in Latin, her eyes closed as she sat cross-legged in the circle, one of her hands held by Shelby, the other by Rachel.

"Not dead, nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum, I call," Shelby said beside her, enthralled by the orb, "Let him know the pain of humanity, gods. Reach your wizened hands to me, give me the soul of-"

The lock on the front door flew off of it's hinges as four vampires barrelled in. Shelby gasped and Jesse stood, quick thinking, sending a shock of electricity from his hand to the nearest vampire. The vampire flung back, but got up quickly, unfazed.

Mike whipped out a stake from the back of his belt, but a vampire dodged it and struck him over the head, sending him flying against the wall, Shelby's shelves coming loose and falling over him.

"Mike!" Tina cried. She stood, when a vampire grabbed her around the waist and picked her up with little effort, running out of the apartment with Tina screaming in his arms.

Quinn outstretched her hands and sent fire through the air like a flame thrower, catching one of the vampires and engulfing them, as Rachel, Mike, Shelby and Jesse lay flat on the floor with their arms thrown over their heads. As the flaming vampire turned to dust, Quinn's powers began to wane and she relented, the fire disappearing and one of the remaining vamps running towards her, gripping her throat in his steely hands.

"No!" Rachel called and picked up an oval lamp, throwing it over the vampire's head. He let go of Quinn, who dropped to the floor, and punched Rachel in the jaw. As the petite girl fell back, her head caught the edge of the coffee table and blood trickled onto her hair.

"Enough!" Shelby shouted and with great effort, clapped her hands together.

Like that, the vampires disappeared into thin air. Silence fell in the apartment save for Beth's crying coming from down the hall. Jesse looked up, wide-eyed, at his past mentor, stunned by what she'd just done. Shelby's eyes rolled back, drained from the magic she'd used to banish the vampires. She fell back and fainted, just as Jesse stood quickly and caught her, hooking his arms under her legs and picking her up, putting her on the couch. Mike pushed loose shelves and books off of him, clutching his head in pain as Quinn scrambled up from the floor and crawled towards Rachel.

The blonde put a hand at the back of the brunette's head and felt the wet warmth of blood. Quinn grimaced and lifted the unconscious girl's head, resting it on her lap.

"Oh, Rachel..." Quinn winced.

"Tina," Mike breathed, and then said louder, "They took Tina!"

xxx

"I have a feeling your heart's not really in this," Snix said after tossing Buffy to the ground, grass stains sliding up the side of the slayer's shirt, "Maybe I'll just go home. Destroy the world. Brood a little."

Buffy slid a stake out from her jacket sleeve and gripped it tight. Snix's smile faltered as her eyes fell over it.

"Let's finish this," said Buffy.

Snix hesitated before smiling nastily. "Yes. Let's."

Buffy lunged off of the ground and Snix ran toward her, both girls colliding in a mess of fists and elbows. Buffy struck Snix with a hard punch and Snix reeled back for only a moment before kicking at Buffy's shins, making the girl stumble backwards.

Snix grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled it backwards, making the slayer cry out and lose the grip on her stake. Snix grabbed the stake and simultaneously kicked the back of Buffy's heels, making her fall to the ground. Snix grabbed her shoulders, flipped her over and straddled her, pinning her down and holding the stake high above her.

"Slayers heal fast, right?" Snix asked with a smirk, "How fast can you heal a puncture to the heart before bleeding out?"

Buffy struggled under the vampire when Snix was pulled back by the collar of her shirt and shoved to the ground, the stake falling out of her hand. Angel grabbed it and loomed over her, a grave expression on his face. Snix smiled under his shadow.

"Well, hello, big brother."

"Don't make me do this," he grimaced, squeezing the stake in his broad hand.

Snix stood up with a crooked smile. "I'd like to see you try."

"No," Buffy said softly and locked eyes with Snix, "We finish this. You and me."

Snix threw her head back and laughed. "You're even more narcissistic than me, aren't you?""

Buffy furrowed her eyebrows and Snix rolled her eyes. "This isn't about you. This was never about _you_."

Buffy's face fell as she thought of her friends performing their spell back in Shelby's apartment, and Will and Sunshine waiting at the school. She dropped her guard and ran in the direction of the cemetery exit. Angel looked back at Snix, who was smiling to herself, before catching the other vampire's gaze.

"You gonna let her go alone?" she asked innocently, "Who knows what could be waiting for her."

Angel bristled and headed for the exit, falling into a jog. Snix shook her head as she watched them leave. "She falls for it every single time."

xxx

Drusilla watched, her lip curling up in a devious grin, as her minions shoved Will into the back wall of his office and knocked him unconscious with a 'World's Best Teacher' mug. Sunshine struggled against of one of the minion's grasps and ran towards Drusilla with a yell, her fist outstreched. She landed a heavy blow, but not before Drusilla extended one long fingernail and slashed at Sunshine's face like a blade, drawing blood. She winced from the pain but didn't relent, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She threw punches at Drusilla, but the tall vampire evaded them with ease and agility. Drusilla grasped her arm, holding Sunshine in place despite her struggle to escape.

"Look at me, dearie. Be in my eyes. Be in me," Drusilla chanted, staring hypnotically into Sunshine's round brown eyes.

Sunshine turned slack, her conviction fading, as she stared back at Drusilla, under her thrall. The vampire smirked and slashed her fingernails at Sunshine's throat, creating five longer, razor-sharp gashes. Sunshine gasped and clutched her throat, blood welling between her fingers and gushing over her hand. She dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Night, night," Drusilla smiled and looked to her minions, "Let's go."

They left an unconscious Will Schuester on the chair of his own desk and strode out behind Drusilla through the east exit, just as Buffy burst through the doors of the main entrance and ran through the halls of McKinley High. She stifled a scream, her sneakers skidding on the carpet, as she ran into Will's office and saw Sunshine lying lifeless on the floor, covered in blood. Buffy kneeled down, tears welling in her eyes and laid a gentle hand on Sunshine's head, blood pumping in her ears.

"Freeze!"

Buffy whipped her head around to see two cops raising their guns at her, their eyes wide and darting between her and Sunshine's dead body. Buffy looked back at her unconscious watcher, helpless.

"Back away from the girl!" one of the cops said tensely to Buffy, "Put your hands up slowly and back away!"

"But I didn't-"

"Do it now!"

Buffy raised her hands, shell shocked, and stood up slowly.

"This one's definitely dead," said the first cop, stepping over Sunshine's body as his partner locked handcuffs tight around Buffy's wrists, "What about that one?"

"Is he okay?!" Buffy urged.

"Get her out of here," the cop said gruffly.

"See if he's okay!" yelled Buffy as the other cop pulled her out of the room and shoved her through the school.

In the parking lot, a cop car waited with it's lights still blaring but the sirens silent. Backup talked with serious expressions to Principal Figgins, who had his arms folded over his chest. They fell silent and turned to Buffy as the police escorted her down the steps.

"I didn't do anything!" she shouted desperately.

"You know this girl?" the cop asked Figgins.

Her principal nodded, disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at her. "Buffy Summers. I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"I didn't do anything! Please, see if the others are okay!"

"That's enough," the cop frowned, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say-"

Buffy pulled her arms apart and broke the link between the handcuffs, elbowing the cop in the face and breaking away, running back to the school and through the double doors. The backup cops raised their guns and Buffy heard shots firing as she ran through the hallways.

xxx

Will blinked, waking up from a daze with his head feeling numb, like it was full of cotton balls. Buffy leaned over him, bathed in fluorescent light, a black hoodie thrown over her head.

"Buffy? Where-"

"You're at the hospital," Buffy said quietly, "Snix's gang..."

She trailed off and looked to her side. Will followed her gaze to see Rachel unconscious on the hospital bed beside him with Quinn and Jesse standing over her, and Mike pacing the floor look anxious. The long lightbulbs flickered over them.

"What happened?" asked Will.

"They killed Sunshine," Buffy voice broke, sitting at the edge of her watcher's hospital bed looking burdened, "And they have Tina."

Will swallowed. "Will Rachel be okay?" he asked, looking at his unconscious student. A thick cotton bandage was wrapped tightly over her head, pinning her hair to her ears.

Quinn sniffed. "The doctor said it was head trauma. She could wake up any time, but the longer it takes... the less likely it is." Quinn shook her head. "I should never have asked her to help."

Jesse squeezed the blonde's shoulder. "This isn't your fault, Quinn."

"Where's Shelby?" asked Will, struggling to sit up with a heart monitor connected to him.

"At home, with Beth," replied Jesse, "I think we're giving up on the ritual."

Buffy looked at Quinn, but she didn't make an indication of being displeased with the outcome of their spell. Her concerned eyes stayed steady on Rachel.

"Where are her dads?" she asked.

"With family in Jersey," answered Quinn, "They're getting a flight back in a couple hours."

Buffy sighed and stood back up, glancing at Mike. "I have to find Tina," she said, about to walk out.

Mike stopped pacing and looked eagerly at Buffy. "Where are you gonna go?" he asked.

Buffy pursed her lips. "I don't know," she shook her head, "But you can't come with me."

"But-"

"Mike, please. I can't risk any more lives, alright?"

"But it's Tina," he said, giving Buffy a pleading look, "I have to be there when you find her."

Buffy sighed. "You have to be _safe _when I find her - because I _will _find her, and she'll never forgive me if something happens to you."

Mike frowned like he wanted to say, 'Likewise', but he remained silent as Buffy ducked out of the hospital in her hood.

xxx

Tina's eyes fluttered open and she tried to blink against the bluriness and adjust to the dimness of the room. She was waking up with a pounding headache, one side of her face cold against a hardwood floor. Her stomach sank when Snix dropped into her vision, crawling on her stomach to catch Tina's attention and smiling eagerly.

"Hey, Crouching Tiger," she said peacefully.

Tina lifted her head and looked down at her body, realizing she wasn't bound by anything. She looked back at Snix, fearful of what the vampire's had planned. They'd snapped Ms. Pillsbury's neck just to send a message, so what did they have in mind for one of Buffy's best friends?

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice croaky.

She groggily pushed herself up with her hands and sat on the floor feeling dizzy. She looked around and saw she was in a wide, square room with nothing but a chandelier, thick curtains drawn over the windows and a large doorway. Spike sat under it in his wheelchair, frowning at Tina, not looking like his usual torture-happy self.

Snix stood up in a form-fitting black dress as Tina struggled to keep her balance on the floor.

"I couldn't tell if you were gonna wake up," she said, "You had me worried."

Tina gritted her teeth. "What do you _want_?" she asked again, assertive.

"I want to torture you. Never really done it before. I think it could be fun. I've heard great things," Snix nodded gingerly.

Tina turned and her gaze locked on something she hadn't noticed before. The statue of Acathla stood a few feet away, free from it's tomb.

"Oh, yeah, that guy," said Snix, "He's even harder to wake up than you are. I said all the right stuff, got blood on my hands, for nothing. So I figure, hey, the Asian nerd can tell me where I went wrong, right? Right. Except part of me is kind of hoping you don't let up right away because I really do want to get a little torture into the situation."

Tina's heart picked up a little. They didn't want to send a message - they wanted information. It made so much more sense. She tensed up and took in her surroundings. Two vampires had their hands clasped behind her, leering at her. As they began to swagger forward, Tina clenched her fist and brought back her elbow with all the force in her body, catching one of the vampire's chins and more importantly, catching him off guard, the way Buffy taught her. _No-one expects it from the short teenage girl_.

The other vampire lunged at her, but she darted under his arms and got behind him, shoving him hard into Snix, both of them sprawling to the ground. Tina sprinted to the door, past Spike, who made no movement to stop her, when Drusilla appeared in front of her and stretched out her hand, catching Tina by the neck and walking her easily back into the room.

Tina's heart pounded as she reminded herself why they needed her hear. _Information. You have it. They need it._ If she couldn't manage to escape, at the very least she could stall them until Buffy came to her rescue. If Buffy came to her rescue.

Snix pushed her minion away and strode towards Tina, smiling, vaguely impressed.

"Shall we start with the fingers?"

xxx

Buffy moved swiftly through suburban streets, unsure of where she was headed. She knew she didn't want Mike tagging along, hysterical, getting himself seriously hurt if there was another attack. But now she wondered if he would've had a better idea of where to look for his girlfriend. Buffy turned a corner a few blocks away from her house when somebody snapped the headlights on their car. Buffy blinked and stumbled a few steps back, shielding her eyes with her arms.

She looked up and saw the vague shape of a cop car. Somebody swung out of the driver's seat and pointed a gun at her.

"Freeze!" he said, before Buffy could react.

She blinked into the brightness when something pulled the cop back into the dark, making him emit a frightened yelp. When the cop was silenced, a dark figure strode forth. It wasn't until he was just a few feet away that Buffy recognized the bleached hair and the floor-length leather duster.

"Spike?"

"Hello, love."

Buffy frowned at him, looking him up and down, seeing he was finally free from his wheelchair. She didn't hesitate to lunge forward and throw a fist into his face. He reeled back and pushed her away.

"Will you hold on a second?!" he backed away and held his hands in front of his face, "Hey! White flag! I quit!"

Buffy scowled, her fists still clenched. "We're mortal enemies. We don't get time-outs."

"Hey, if you want a go-around, pet, I'll have a gay old time. But if you want to Snix, you're gonna have to play it a bit differently."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your ex, love, and putting her in the bloody ground."

Buffy looked him up and down and shook her head in disgust. "This has got to be the lamest trick you guys have ever pulled."

"Not a trick, love."

"Oh, yeah?"

"She's got your friend. She's probably torturing her right now."

Buffy paused, pursing her lips. She stared hard at Spike's face and tried to imagine what Snix could possibly gain from a ploy like this.

"What do you want?" she asked hesitantly.

"I told you. I want to stop your girlfriend. Save the world."

"You do remember that you don't have a soul, right?"

"We vampires like to talk big, innit," he shrugged, "'I'm gonna destroy the world'. Just tough guy talk, strutting around with your mates, drinking a pint of blood."

He pulled a cigarette and a silver lighter out of his pocket and lit up, taking a drag.

"Truth is, I love this world. You got dog racing, Manchester United, 'Love Boat'. Billions of Happy Meals on legs. And then someone like Snix with nothing to live for comes along. Then it's goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester bloody Square, you see what I'm saying?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Sort of. I'm still having this 'not believing you' issue. You may not be down with Snix, but why would you come to me?"

Spike grimaced and paused before giving his honest answer. "I want Dru back," he said, exhaling smoke, "I want it like it used to be, before Snix showed up. The way she acts around him-"

"Ugh, you're pathetic," Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, not wanting to hear the sob story, "I've got friends in the hospital. People have died. I may lose more of them and the whole world could get sucked into Hell and you need my help because you're girlfriend's a slut? Let me take the opportunity to _not care_."

Spike stood straight, insulted. "I can't fight them alone and neither can you!"

Buffy bristled. "You're a killer."

"And I'm all you've got."

She shook her head, looking down at the floor. At the current moment, she just wanted to find Tina, even more than she wanted to stop Snix. "Alright. Talk."

xxx

Jesse leaned against the doorway, his gazing sometimes attracted by the bustle of nurses and doctors out in the hall, but usually pulled back by the sorry sight of Quinn, leaning over Rachel's hospital bed like a mourning girlfriend. Mr. Schuester got dressed in the bathroom, unwilling to stay another night like the doctor's wanted him to, and Mike still paced the room, staring out of the window every couple minutes, grumbling under his breath.

"She's gonna be okay," Jesse quietly to Quinn, walking up to her and taking a seat in one of the polyester chairs, "They all are."

Quinn nodded, not quite taking it in, her eyes still trained on Rachel. "We didn't even get a chance."

Jesse frowned. He wondered if it would be any easier for Quinn if she and Rachel had been a real couple before one louder half went into a coma. He doubted it. "You'll get your chance. You both will. She'll wake up. Don't worry."

Even he knew the words felt empty/ Quinn blinked tears out of her eyes and slid her hand into Rachel's, squeezing tight.

"Come on, Rach," she whispered, "You have to wake up. I need you. I love you." She rested her forehead against Rachel's and whispered again, "I love you."

Rachel's eyelids began to fluttre and Quinn leaned back, hopeful. "Rachel?"

"Quinn?"

A laugh escaped Quinn's mouth, and more tears slid down her face as Rachel wearily opened her eyes. "Oh, Rachel. Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Rachel frowned and looked at her surroundings and back up at Quinn, her eyes turning soft. "What... did you say?"

"I said... I love you," said Quinn, only just realizing it herself, "Rachel, I love you."

Rachel smiled up at her and Quinn leaned in, pressing her lips against the brunette's. Jesse politely averted his eyes, smiling to himself, and Mike glanced at the girls, seemingly unfazed.

Rachel's hands snaked gently around Quinn's neck. "I love you, too," she said against the blonde's lips.

xxx

Buffy trekked up the road to her house with Spike trailing behind her. She wrung her hands together, worried she was making a huge mistake. Ultimately, she didn't care. She needed to find Tina and if she was doing something stupid, at least she was doing _something_. Buffy looked up as they neared her house, just as her mother pulled the car into the driveway and spotted her daughter, frantic with worry.

"Buffy!" she called, running towards her daughter.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Buffy asked as she approached the front of the house.

"Where have you been? The police were asking about you. Are you okay? I went out looking for you," said Joyce, going a mile a minute.

Buffy sighed. "Let's go inside," she said, reluctantly accepting that she'd have to make up some creative story.

"Who's this?" asked Joyce, looking over Buffy's shoulder at Spike.

Buffy looked back at the English vampire, her stomach turning. "I'll explain inside," she replied.

"Buffy, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"_Mom_-"

"Buffy, terrible things have happened. What were you doing?" Joyce asked, stubbornly folding her arms.

"What, your mum doesn't know?" asked Spike.

Buffy whipped her head around and glared at him.

"Know what?" asked Joyce.

"That, uh, I'm in a band," Buffy said quickly, and added, "With Spike."

"Right. She plays the triangle," Spike nodded.

"Drums," Buffy grumbled.

"Drums, yeah. She's hell on the old skins, you know?"

"And what do you do?" asked Joyce, looking at Spike.

"Oh, I sing."

"Let's go inside and talk about it," said Buffy.

Joyce frowned, but turned and led them up to the front door. "I'm not sure how I feel about this..." she mumbled.

"You think she's buying it?" Buffy covertly asked Spike.

Spike was about to reply when the bushes rustled and they all turned their head to see a vampire pounced out from them, tackling into Joyce and knocking her to the ground. From the dewy grass, she looked up at his vamped out face and gasped. Buffy sprinted forward and grabbed the vampire, hurling him towards Spike to give her time to whip a stake out from her sleeve. She ran toward it and sunk the stake into his heart, making the vampire burst into a pile of dust.

Buffy's chest heaved as she tucked her stake back into her pocket and looked back at her mother, who was wide-eyed and speechless, sprawled on the ground.

"One of our boys," Spike said to Buffy, "Must've been watching me. Or you."

"Buffy, what's going on?" asked Joyce, pushing herself off of the grass.

Buffy walked over to her mother and helped her up, patting loose grass off of her shoulders, when Joyce looked at her with probing eyes.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath, "Mom... I'm a vampire slayer."

xxx

Quinn and Rachel were still holding hands and giving each other quiet, meaningful glances when Angel walked in, a leather jacket over his broad shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" asked Will, who had gotten dressed.

"Looking for Buffy. I found something she might be able to use... if you're still planning on summoning Santana's soul."

Quinn looked up at Angel, still grasping Rachel's hand. "I don't think so."

"What did you find?" asked Jesse.

"It doesn't matter," Quinn looked at the warlock, stern.

Rachel squeezed Quinn's hand and looked at Angel. "What did you find?"

"A revised version of the ritual. I've been out of town for a while trying to get help with it from the last of the Romani clan. If it works, we could restore Santana's soul without the clause. She'd never have to worry about happiness again."

Mike turned from the window and glared at Angel. "And if it doesn't work, it'd be a huge waste of time. People have died. Tina is missing. We don't have any more time to stall."

"Mike's right," Quinn said solemnly, "We can't let anyone else get hurt."

"We could try," Rachel said quietly, and the others looked at her, "I just mean, Buffy's doing whatever she can. We can go back to Shelby and try. If we get it done in time, Buffy won't have to kill Santana and if we don't... then we don't. It's not like there's anything else for us to do."

Quinn frowned. "Are you sure? I don't want you getting hurt. Not again."

"It's powerful magic, Rachel," said Jesse, staring steadfast at the girl, "Especially now that you're weaker."

"I'm not weaker!" said Rachel, sitting up with her bandage wrapped around her head, "When we tried the spell, before the vampires attacked, I felt something. Something I can't explain, but it made me feel powerful. I want to finish the spell. If we can save Santana, we stop her from waking Acathla."

Quinn hesitated before giving a tight nod. "Mike, go to Buffy. Tell her what we're doing. See if she can stall."

"But-"

"Please, Mike."

Mike frowned, his lips a tight line across his face. "Be careful."

xxx

Buffy sat Joyce on the living room couch with a glass of bourbon and a stunned face. The slayer looked down at her mother, worried how she'd deal with all of this when the shock finally wore off. She turned to Spike, who was standing awkwardly in the the hallway, his arms folded.

"Talk to me," she said gruffly, "What's the deal?"

"Simple. I help you kill Santana. You let me and Dru skip town."

"Santana? Your... girlfriend?" asked Joyce, looking up.

"Forget about Drusilla," said Buffy, ignoring her mother, "She's not walking out of this one."

"There's no deal without Dru!" Spike said heatedly.

"She killed Sunshine!"

Spike's eyebrows raised, impressed. "Dru bagged a slayer? Good for her," he said, before Buffy threw him a nasty look, "Um, not from your perspective, I suppose."

"I can't believe I invited you into my house," Buffy mumbled to herself.

"So you didn't kill that girl?" asked Joyce.

"Of course not!" said Buffy, turning back to her mother, bewildered.

"Did she explode like that man outside?"

"No, she was a slayer, Mom."

"Like what you are?"

"Look, this deal works one way only," interrupted Spike, "Me and Dru for your precious Snix."

"Honey, are you sure you're a slayer?" asked Joyce.

"I'll take her out of the country. You'll never hear from us again, I bloody well hope."

"I mean, have you tried not being a slayer?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Mom..." she sighed and looked at Spike, "Go make sure Tina is okay and be ready to back me up when I make my move. If Tina dies, so does Drusilla."

Spike glared at Buffy and left the house without a word. She frowned, her muscles starting to ache as she looked back at her mother, who was gaping up at her, waiting for an explanation.

"Is it because you didn't have a strong father figure?" Joyce blurted out.

Buffy sighed and took a seat on the floral fabric couch. "It's just destiny, Mom. I'm the slayer. Accept it."

Joyce paused. "We should call the police, now that we know you're innocent."

"What, did you think I was guilty?" Buffy frowned.

"I didn't think that, I just... Now we have proof."

"We don't have proof, Mom. We only have my word."

"I'm sure they'll understand-"

"If you get them involved, they'll get killed. Simple as. I have to do this alone."

"Do what?"

"I'm gonna need Sunshine's sword."

"What sword? What's going on?"

Buffy brought her hands to her temple, frustrated. She needed to act fast. She didn't have time to explain everything. "I have stuff to do. Just have another drink, okay?"

"Don't talk to me that way!" Joyce stood up, looking down at her daughter, her face red. Her bourbon glass fell to the floor and shattered, but she didn't even look at it, "You can't just drop this on me and pretend it's nothing!"

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time-"

"No. I'm sick of the 'I don't have time' and 'you wouldn't understand'. I am your mother and you are going to explain yourself to me," said Joyce, using emphatic hand gestures.

"I told you," Buffy said through gritted teeth, "I'm a slayer."

"Well, I don't accept it."

"Open your eyes, Mom!" Buffy said, leaping from the couch and getting at her mother's level, "What do you think's been happening for the past two years? How many times have you washed blood out of my clothes? You still can't figure it out?!"

Joyce clenched her jaw. "Well, it ends now."

"It never ends! Do you think I chose to be like this?! Do you know how lonely it is? How dangerous?! Do you know what I'd give to be upstairs, watching TV and talking about boys or, God, even studying?! But I have to save the world. Again."

"No. This is crazy," she shook her head, "You need help."

"I'm not crazy, Mom! I need you to calm down. I'll be back."

"You are not leaving this house."

"Who's gonna stop me?"

Buffy strode out through the front door with Joyce running after her and stopping still on the porch.

"If you leave, don't even think about coming back!" Joyce cried out to her daughter with desperation in her voice.

Buffy paused, and pressed on without a word.

**a/n: So the next chapter will be the last of 'Season 2', and I'm super excited for the finale. I thought I'd have plenty of time to write this summer but my family is up and moving to America, so I'm pretty busy right now. Thank you for reading and reviewing :)**


	71. The Sacrifice

**Chapter 69**

**The Sacrifice**

Tina's hands had started to turn numb after her wrists were bound to the arms of the chair she was sitting in, thick rope cutting into her circulation. She bowed her head in exhaustion, blood and sweat staining her face and dripping from her hairline. She couldn't tell how long it had been since she woke up in the dining room of Snix's new lair. Time was a foreign concept when minions were breaking her fingers and tossing her around like a ragdoll.

"You know, you can stop the pain any time you want," said Snix, leaning down to grab Tina's eyes, resting her hands on her knees and showing off a gratuitous amount of cleavage.

"Please," Tina croaked.

"Tell me what I need to know," Snix said softly.

Tina grimaced. Even with her mind muddled, she knew the kindness in Snix's voice sounded wrong. The vampire was desperate. She would try anything to get Tina to help her.

"To be worthy..." she said as Snix leaned in, eager, "You have to perform the ritual... in a tutu."

Tina watched Snix's face contort from a sweet smile into a nasty grimace. She stood up straight and narrowed her eyes at the bound girl, who was working up to a weak grin.

"Alright, that's it. Someone get me a chainsaw," Snix put her hands on her hips.

"Now, now," Spike rolled into the room in his rusty wheelchair, a playful grin on his face, "It wouldn't do you any good to lose your temper."

"Keep out of it, Sit 'n Spin," Snix spat, without looking at him.

"You cut her up, you'll never get your answers."

Snix whipped her head at the vampire, her glossy black hair swaying to one side of her shoulder. "Since when did you become so reasonable?"

"Right about the time you became a Bond villain. You have your way with that bird and you'll never get to end the world. And I don't fancy spending the next month picking Oriental out of the floorboards."

Snix pursed her lips and folded her arms. "So what do you suggest, oh wise one?"

Spike smirked and eyed the doorway. "Drusilla, sweetheart," he called out.

Drusilla glided in in a sweeping gray gown and a diamond lavalier, a dark red smile on her pale face. She looked down at Spike, expectant and provocative.

"Do you want to play a game?"

xxx

Buffy walked through the police tape, letting it fall to the floor. Will's office was exactly how they left it, but without people. White strips were taped around the spot that Sunshine died and her blood was still not quite dried into the carpet. Buffy shuddered at the metallic smell.

"Keep away from the crime scene, Ms. Summers."

She turned back to see Figgins outside the open office door, his arms folded in a tweed blazer with patches sewn into the elbows. He had his lips pressed in a stern, straight line but his eyes looked full of concern.

"I didn't do this," Buffy's voice croaked, "The police will figure this out."

Figgins nodded, some form of sympathy flashing briefly across his face. "I sincerely hope so. Unfortunately, you've proved to be a liability to this school, Ms. Summers."

Buffy flinched. "What are you saying? Are you expelling me?"

Figgins cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "I don't want to make any final decisions without scheduling a meeting with your mother, but... it seems we might be heading in that direction."

Buffy exhaled. She was unwelcome in her school and in her home. She bit down hard on her lip until she thought she might draw blood.. There was only one thing she knew she had to do, before she could figure out where to go from there. She bent down and picked up the long hull that Sunshine had carried around and pulled out the longsword, inspecting it's fine edges. Figgins took a frightened step back as Buffy stood, shoving the sword through the leather belt in her jeans. She walked past him with purpose. Once he was alone, he took his cellphone from the inside pocket of his blazer and called the first number in his contacts list.

"It's Figgins. Tell Mr. Remington I have important news."

xxx

Drusilla bowed down to Tina, a gentle and intrigued look on her face as Snix and Spike watched from the doorway. Tina's neck burned and she could barely hold her head up as Drusilla ran her fingers through her hair, shushing her like she was an infant. She pushed Tina's hair out of her face and wiped the blood off of her brow with the back of her hand.

"Is that better? My poor angel..." she cooed and put her hands over Tina's head, "Let's see what's inside."

She clutched Tina's skull until it hurt and the tips of her fingernails made little pin pricks on Tina's scalp, making the girl wince.

"Of course..." she said, easing her grip and letting go.

Tina sighed with relief and opened her eyes. In a daze, Mike's face started to register in front of her and she realized it was her boyfriend standing in front of her, leaning down with his face so close to hers she could smell his musty scent of blood and lavender. He was strange, like a dream, but Tina welcomed it.

"Mike..."

"Tina," he smiled, and embraced her in a hug, careful not to brush over her cuts and broken bones before he quickly started undoing the tight ropes around her wrists and ankles, "Slowly. You're weak. Did you tell Santana about the ritual?"

"No," she croaked as he lifted her out of her chair, "We have to get her away from Acathla."

"Why? Is she close to figuring it out?"

"We have to find Buffy," said Tina, pulling his hand and trying to move towards the door.

"Wait," said Mike, tightly grabbing her wrists and holding her close, "Please, Tina, tell me what to do. You can trust me. I love you."

"Get Snix away from Acathla."

"Why? Is she the key?"

"Her blood. She can't... She can't..."

"Shh. It's okay." He leaned forward and kissed her, his hand on the back of her head.

Snix and Spike tore their eyes away from Drusilla, who was feverishly kissing Tina after putting her under a glamour-like daze, and looked at each other.

"Blood! Du-uh!" Snix rolled her eyes, "It's so obvious. It was right there in front of me the whole time. _The blood on my hands must be my own_. It's almost poetic. Well, that is a load off my shoulders. 'Kay, kill her."

"Wait," Spike said quickly, "What if she's lying?"

Snix raised a suspicious eyebrow at Spike. "Why would she lie? She thinks she's talking to her hot Mathlete boyfriend."

"Maybe she sees through the daze," said Spike, "She's supposed to be a bloody genius, isn't she? She could be toying with us. Wasting our time."

Snix narrowed her eyes for only a moment more before nodding. "Good point. This is kind of cool, having you watch my back. We're quite the threesome, huh?"

Spike clenched his jaw. "This is _not _a threesome."

"That's what you think," Snix laughed under her breath and glanced back at Drusilla, still making out with Tina, who was clutching feebly to the woman's dress, "Uh, Dru..."

"We're finished here, duck," Spike called to her.

Drusilla pulled away from the kiss and grinned sheepishly at her cohorts. "Sorry. I was... in the moment."

xxx

Mike met Buffy at sunrise in front of the impressive McMansion on the edge of Lima.

"You're not here to fight," she said instead of hello, "We save Tina and the both of you run like Hell. I can't protect you." She took the sword out of her belt just to catch the sunlight on the blade. "I'm here to end it once and for all."

Mike nodded, looking uneasy.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"The others... Quinn, Rachel, Jesse... they wanted me to give you a message."

"What?" Buffy asked warily.

Mike pursed his lips, pausing for a few seconds. "Kick her ass."

Buffy clenched her jaw. "I'll do a lot more than that."

xxx

Will stood outside the hospital room, his eyes shifting between the passing nurses until he was sure they wouldn't be disturbed. He walked back in to find Quinn walking around the small room waving burning sage around the room with the windows shut tightly.

"I'll take over," he offered.

"Thanks," said Quinn, handing him the sage and joining the others around Rachel's hospital bed.

The brunette sat up and held out her hands for Quinn and Jesse to take.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Are you sure?" asked Jesse, glancing between the two girls, "Are you sure we should do this without Shelby?"

"We don't have time," said Quinn, "We have to do it now."

"No-one's ever done something like this before, not that we know of. And you... are kind of a novice-"

"I am not!"

"This isn't an ego thing, Quinn!" Jesse snapped, looking deadly serious, "This is powerful magic. Dark magic. And you're asking important spirits and gods to do your bidding. If you can't handle that kind of power - and I'm guessing you can't - you might not ever come back from that."

Quinn clenched her jaw. "If you're too scared to do this, you can leave."

Jesse stared at her steadfast and sighed. "Rachel?"

Rachel looked down at the Latin incantation scrawled on a piece of tissue paper on her lap, as well as the orb of Thesulah, while Will lit candles around the three of them. "Quod perditum est, invenietur," she chanted.

Jesse glanced at Quinn. "Age before beauty?"

Quinn pursed her lips, ego slightly bruised. "Ladies first," she said to him sternly and looked down at the translations Angel had written up, "Not dead, nor not of the living..."

xxx

Drusilla handed Snix the knife, rippling with excitement as Spike watched from the doorway, leaning back in his wheelchair with a stern frown on his face. The statue of Acathla stood at the end of the empty room. Snix nodded at Drusilla and pressed the blade of the knife against her own hand, drawing a small amount of blood, so dark it was almost black.

"Acathla will be free," she said, staring at her own hand as blood started to pool into her palm, "And so will the rest of us."

She stepped forward as something crashed unexpectedly through the floor-to-ceiling window, glass shattering against the floor as the thick black curtain fell in a heap. The curtains were pushed aside to reveal Buffy rising from under them with a shining longsword in her hands, sunlight streaming from outside and bathing her in gold.

The vampires jumped back from the deadly rays and gaped at the slayer. She stepped forward, unphased, as one of the minions ran toward her in attack mode. She extended her sword and with one swift movement, beheaded the vampire and watched him turn to dust.

"Hello, lover," she said chipperly, looking at Snix.

Snix frowned, anger bubbling inside of her. "I don't have time for you."

"You don't have a lot of time _left_."

Snix let out a barking laugh. "You're a cute little pitbull, you know that? As if you could take us all on your own."

"You're probably right about that," said Buffy, her eyes shifting over Snix's shoulder to Spike as he rose from his wheelchair, a nasty looking iron fireplace poker in his hand.

He brought it down and slammed it into the back of Snix's head, knocking her to the ground with a loud thud. Buffy ran forward with her sword as Snix was sprawled on the hardwood, but another minion came from the side and tackled into her, sending her sword flying into the wall. Drusilla looked at Spike, aghast, and did the same, tackling him to the ground and scratching wildly at him with her fingernails.

Spike kicked her off and hopped up, breathless. "I don't want to hurt you, baby..." he said, lifting his open hands in surrender as Drusilla stood, her chest heaving, Buffy still sparring vampire minions on her own.

Drusilla reached for his throat with her blade-like fingernails and Spike instinctively punched her in the jaw as hard as he could.

"Doesn't mean I won't," he shrugged.

Meanwhile, Mike ran through the house trying door after door and keeping himself quietly away from the bustle of battle down in the barren dining room. He found a locked door and rammed his shoulder into it. On the third try, the wood split and he kicked his way in to find Tina lying against a wall, her wrist tied tightly to a radiator, blood and sweat on her skin and her dress torn.

"Tina!" he gasped and ran toward her, taking out a pocket knife and cutting the rope.

"Mike?" she looked up, out of touch with reality.

"Can you walk?" he asked her as he threw the heavy-duty ropes away and tried to lift her.

"Are you real...?" she sighed.

"Of course I'm real. Come on, we have to go."

"They got inside my head. It's a trick."

Mike put his hand on each side of her face and looked into her eyes. "Tina. This isn't a trick. I'm real. My name is Michael Chang, Jr. and I love you. Now, we _need _to get out of here. Please."

Tina gave in and collapsed against his arms, letting him pick her up and carry her out.

xxx

Buffy stuck her sword into a minion's gut while kicking at another one, slaughtering the dozens that came at her. As Spike and Drusilla tackled each other, she looked over at the spot where Snix had collapsed to find only a smudge of blood on the floor. She widened her eyes and looked over at the statue of Acathla that Snix was hobbling to, holding her hand out.

"No!"

Buffy dived toward Snix just as the vampire pulled at the hilt of the stone sword that was stuck into Acathla's chest. Buffy blinked and reeled back as light filled the room. The brightness died down and light swirled around Acathla like a mystical whirlpool. Snix turned around and smiled at Buffy.

"You're too late, Barbs."

"It's not over yet," Buffy gritted her teeth.

"My boy's about to wake up. You're going to Hell."

"Save me a seat."

Buffy lunged her sword at Snix just as the vampire pulled Acathla's out of its chest and swung it, their metal blades clanging together.

xxx

"Gods, bind her, cast her heart from the demon... realm... return her..."

Jesse and Rachel nervously eyed Quinn as beads of sweat collected on her forehead and dark rings formed under her eyes. After a while, it seemed like a chore for the words to leave her mouth.

"I can take over," Jesse offered, squeezing her hand and looking nervous.

"No," she coughed, "I call on... I..."

"Quinn?" Rachel frowned.

Suddenly, Quinn's body tensed and her head snapped back, her eyes open wide and trained on the ceiling.

"Te implor Doamne, nu ignora accasta rugaminte!" she said quickly and purposefully in a language she'd never spoken, "Să orb fi vasul pentru a transporta sufletul ei să-i."

"What's happening?" Rachel asked Jesse, panicked.

Will gaped at them from where he stood at the door. "Is this good?" he asked aloud.

Jesse just looked at Quinn, his eyes wide and his mouth open. "I don't know."

"Este scris, aceasta putere este dreptul poporuil meu de a conduce," Quinn continued.

The orb caught Jesse's eye as it began to glow.

xxx

Spike had his hands pressed hard against Drusilla's neck, holding her against the ground. He straddled her and punched her hard in the head, knocking her unconscious. Buffy and Snix had stumbled into the next room, Snix herding the slayer away from the sunlight that was pouring in through the broken window.

Spike looked down at Drusilla, pale and elegant, and picked her up. He peered into the next room and watched Snix back Buffy into a corner and kick the sword out of her grasp.

"God, she's going to kill her," Spike remarked, worry tensing his face. He shrugged and fled the scene with Drusilla in his arms.

Blood ran down Buffy's arm as she tried to escape the corner, but Snix moved with her, smiling, playful, and wielding a sword while Buffy'S sword was lying on the floor across the room, dusty after slaying Snix's minions. Snix hovered the end of the sword near Buffy's face as she bit her lip and cowered from the blade.

"Well, I am loving this," she shook her head, "Cute little Buffy with her friends and her weapons and her doting watcher. Take all that away and what are you?"

Buffy closed her eyes, breathing calmly as she sank to the ground against the wall. Snix just threw her head back and laughed, before lunging forward with her blade, pointing it straight at Buffy's face. Without opening her eyes, the slayer clapped her palms together and caught the sword between her hands. She opened her eyes again, staring hatefully at Snix. "Me."

She jerked the sword backward and hit Snix in the nose with the hilt, lifting herself off the ground and kicking Snix in the chest. She hit back at the vampire, shepherding her back into the dining room and towards Acathla, strategically avoiding the stream of sunlight coming in through the broken window. Buffy knew what she had to do. _Blood started it. Blood would stop it. _Snix dropped to her knees in front of the statue and Buffy raised her sword to plunge into the vampire's chest, just as Snix let out a tortured scream.

Buffy jumped back, bewildered, as Snix opened her eyes wide, her irises glowing yellow. The vampire gasped as the light in her eyes died down and she looked up, disoriented.

"Buffy?" she said, looking up at the slayer.

Buffy's mouth dropped open and she backed away, cautious.

"What's going on?" she asked, alarmed, as she stood up, blood and sweat staining her dress, "Where are we?"

Buffy put her arm back to her side, holding the hilt of her sword uncertainly in her hand. "Santana?" she called in a very small voice.

"You're hurt," Santana croaked, looking at Buffy's arm, "Jesus, Buffy, what happened?"

Buffy stared at Santana with her mouth open, until warmth flushed to her face and she stumbled forward, embracing Santana with her free hand. It was really her. She was back.

"Buffy..." Santana said, her mouth against Buffy's hair.

Buffy squeezed her eyes tight and when she opened them, the light around Acathla's statue was glowing brighter over Santana's shoulder. The statue's mouth was opening wide, a vortex swirling into it and emitting a low grumble.

Santana turned, her arms still around the slayer, and looked at the statue. "What is that, Buffy? Talk to me."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said quickly and pulled Santana back to her by her shoulder, "I love you."

She pressed her lips against Santana and breathed in deep through her nose. Santana pulled away, her eyes over Buffy's face, trying to assess the situation and failing.

"I love you..." Santana finally said, pursing her lips tight together.

"Close your eyes," Buffy said gently.

Santana complied, tired, serene and trustful. Buffy kissed her softly and pressed her forehead against Santana's, a tear squeezing it's way through her closed eyelids. She knew what she had to do. _Blood started it. Blood would stop it. _The slayer pulled back, thrusting her sword into Santana's chest, through it and into the chest of Acathla.

An unearthly roar sounded from the stone demon and Santana gasped, looking down at the sword that impaled her, blood dribbling from around the blade. Her eyes were open wide, shocked and betrayed when she looked back up at Buffy. Tears were streaming down the slayer's face, though she didn't sob and her chest didn't heave with the weight of her final loss. The vortex pulsed outwards and closed around Santana, sucking her back into it and swallowing her into the statue.

In a blink, she had disappeared. Buffy squeezed tears out of her eyes. For only a moment, Santana had been with her. Now she was gone. Forever. The slayer looked around at the empty house. Now that she had done what she needed to do, she didn't know where to go. Not home. She dreaded having to see familiar faces again. She wanted her life to end and a new one to begin.

She sniffed once and made her decision.

xxx

"So, no word?"

Tina shook her head as she and her boyfriend walked alongside Kurt and Blaine on a sidewalk in Cherry Hill, one of Lima's nicer gated communities.

"It's been three weeks," said Blaine, looking concerned, "What happened?"

Mike shrugged. "All we know is that she stopped the world from ending, because... here we are."

"Mr. Schuester went back to the house and found Acathla dormant. No-one else was there," said Tina. Buffy had gone missing the night she had decided to stop Snix. The scoobies knew that Mr. Schuester was crushed by his slayer's disappearance and so was Buffy's mother, who'd seemed quiet and guilty whenever they saw her.

Kurt pressed his lips together, thoughtful. "I keep wondering if I hadn't been concentrating so hard on finals at Dalton, maybe I would seen something in a vision or been able to help-"

"This isn't your fault, Kurt," Tina shook her head, "Maybe they were able to save Santana and they just wanted to be alone for a while. Besides, Buffy is bound to come back sooner or later. School is gonna start."

"I guess so," shrugged Kurt, "Just... maybe I'd be a little bit more in the loop if I was back at McKinley."

Tina and Blaine looked at him, surprised. "You're coming back to McKinley?" she asked.

"I didn't say that... but I'm considering it. Dalton might not be a perfect fit."

"How'd you do in your finals?" asked Mike.

"He aced every test," Blaine said proudly, "Too academically demanding my ass."

Kurt smirked and slid his hand into Blaine as the four of them approached a tall colonial house. They hopped up the porch steps and rang the doorbell. A moment later, LeRoy Berry answered, looking a little perturbed.

"Kids, nice to see you," he said hastily, "Quinn and Rachel are, um, upstairs..."

He stepped back to let the four of them in. They glanced at each other and made their way upstairs, Tina leading the way. Rachel's bedroom door was open and the preppy brunette was inside, standing on her pink carpet and looking at the closed door to her en suite bathroom.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry!" she cried, looking red in the face and panicked.

"Rachel, it's fine," Quinn's muffled voice came from the bathroom.

"What's going on?" asked Tina as the boys walked in behind her.

Rachel looked over at them and sighed, guilt written all over her face. She sighed as she explained. "Quinn was trying to teach me some spells. Like, the spell she uses to color her hair."

Tina nodded. "Right. Easy stuff."

"Sure," Rachel swallowed, close to tears, "And she tried to let me do her roots. She said to think of butter yellow and I _tried_, but I guess I was looking at my room and my room is so _pink _and... Quinn, I'm sorry!"

"Rachel, it's fine!" Quinn said kindly as she came out of the bathroom, the others gaping at her new hairstyle.

Long, wavy tendrils of bright pink reached the small of her back and illuminated her green eyes.

"Besides, I kind of like it," Quinn shrugged.

"No, you don't. You should just fix it yourself. I'll leave it alone," Rachel shook her head.

"Rachel, seriously, I like it. What do you guys think?" asked Quinn, "Tina, you've experimented with hair dye. And Kurt, you're our resident fashion guru."

Tina and Kurt glanced at each other.

"Well, it's a lot more effective than actual hair dye," Tina shrugged.

"It's a little... Princess Bubblegum. Maybe you should cut it. Right above your shoulders. You have the bone structure to pull it off," said Kurt.

Quinn smiled and caught Rachel's eye. "Sounds good to me."

**a/n: The last chapter of Season 2. *sighs* We've come a long way, guys. I started this story two years ago and the absolute only reason I kept writing this whole time is because I knew you guys were reading it, so thank you for being apart of the process. It's been a lot of fun. I hope the addition of a cute scene at the end balanced out an angsty enough chapter.**

**I'm not sure when I'll be starting Season 3, but I probably won't waste a huge amount of time. I already have a bunch of ideas and I'm pretty excited to share them. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	72. The Musical Companion Season 2

'**Lima, Ohio: The Other, Other Hellmouth' Musical Companion**

**The Soundtrack to the Story: Season Two - The Young and the Soulless**

**Link to listen to this mix on is available on my profile page**

**Ella Mae Bowen - Holding Out For a Hero**

_Somewhere just beyond my reach someone's reaching back for me / Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat / Isn't there a Superman to sweep me off my feet_

**Band of Horses - The Funeral**

_At every occasion I'll be waiting for the funeral_

**Ke$ha - Animal**

_I'm not asleep, I'm up for the fight / Into the magic / And I don't want the concrete / I am alive / Comes with the tragic_

**Hoobastank - The Reason**

_I've found a reason for me / To change who I used to be / A reason to start over new / And the reason is you_

**Natalia Kills - Problem**

_I'm your dream girl / This is real love / But you know what they say about me / That girl is a problem_

**Buddy and Julie Miller - Gasoline and Matches**

_I feel a spark and the fire catches / You and me are gasoline and matches_

**The Pierces - Three Wishes**

_You want three wishes / One to fly the heavens / One to swim like fishes / And one you're saving for a rainy day / If your lover ever takes her love away_

**Corinne Bailey Rae - Like A Star**

_Just like a star across my sky / Just like an angel off the page / You have appeared to my life / Feels like I'll never be the same / Just like a song in my heart / Just like oil on my hands / Only to love you_

**Charlene Kaye - Animal Love**

_You're crouching low like a jungle cat / But something tells me I'd be content to be trapped / One fleeting look and there goes my breath / But no pleasure comes without consequence_

**Semi Precious Weapons - Put a Diamond In It**

_Violence is glamour / I'm glamourous / Tell me that you love me / Before we turn to dust_

**Maroon 5 - Harder to Breathe**

_Does it kill, does it burn, is it painful to learn / That it's me who has all the control / Does it thrill, does it sting, when you feel what I bring / And you wish that you had me to hold_

**A Fine Frenzy - Almost Lover**

_Goodbye my luckless romance / My back is turned on you / Should've known you'd bring me heartache / Almost lovers always do_

**Lenka - Trouble Is a Friend**

_So don't be alarmed if he takes you by the arm / I won't let him win but I'm a sucker for his charm / Trouble is a friend, yeah, trouble is a friend of mine_

**Cider Sky - We Are In Love**

_Is it real or are you joking? / It's not true until it's spoken / Say the words if you dare to know them!_

**Katy B - Witches Brew**

_I'll open this book and blow the dust / From these pages of desire and lust / I'll search for a spell perfect for you / Cause I need to get you enchanted with me_

**Barcelona - Please Don't Go**

_All those arrows you threw, you threw them away / You kept falling in love and then one day / When you fell, you fell towards me_

**The Rescues - Teenage Dream**

_My heart stops when you look at me / Just one touch, now baby I believe / This is real so take a chance / And don't ever look back_

**Scala & Kolacny Brothers Choir - Creep**

_I don't care if it hurts / I want to have control / I want a perfect body / I want a perfect soul_


	73. The Runaway

**Season Three**

**The Graduation**

**Chapter 70**

**The Runaway**

People say that strange things can be seen in Lima, Ohio, when the sun goes down and the freaks come out; especially in the cemetery on the town's edge. Reports of wild animals that tore passersby to shreds; pale, seductive people that abducted the innocent and returned them hours later, drained of blood; and on the last day of summer, before the local public high school opened it's doors again after three months of an uneventful summer, six teenagers could be seen in the cemetery, moonlight blanketing their bodies as they chased, stalked, staked and shot flaming balls of fire at the undead.

But those are just reports. No-one can say what is and isn't real in a town like Lima when all you have is your word. One thing you could say for sure was that one girl - possibly the most important girl in the town - was missing, and because of her disappearance, those six teenagers had taken her place and spent a summer growing closer than ever.

xxx

Quinn slammed Sofia's rusty car door shut in the parking lot, in a space farthest away from the school building.

Before, she would never have settled for a parking spot next to the sophomores who rode their moms' minivans and the pathetic teachers who rushed in late with Lima Bean coffee spilling down their shirts. She would have been one of the entitled, too-cool-for-school kids who parked at the handicap spots up front beside the bronze razorback hog bust by the entrance. But then, that was before Quinn had ditched all of the old wardrobe her mother had bought for her two years ago and started wearing the clothes Santana had left behind.

Quinn had commandeered Santana's room, too, and started listening to the bands in the posters on Santana's walls. She'd given herself a choppy haircut, her bubblegum pink spikes just grazing her jawline, and walked around in black biker boots, tight jeans and flannel shirts tied up at the waist to expose her bellybutton, her stomach flat from daily crunches - a habit left over from her days as a cheerleader.

She took an herbal lemongrass cigarette from behind her ears and covertly lit it with a flame that flickered from her index finger. Taking a drag, she tightened her grip on her beaten leather satchel and walked through the high school parking lot.

She attracted the stares of her classmates, as they stopped still on their way to a group of friends they hadn't seen all summer and bumped into each other to get a good look at Quinn Fabray's new getup. Cheerios gaped with their mouths wide open and quickly removed their phones from their pockets, texting at the speed of light. Quinn smirked, her eyes sparkling from behind her shaded Ray Bans. Even now, she loved the attention.

She pushed past gawking schoolmates - even freshman who recognized her face from Fox Sports three years ago - and walked up the wide stone steps to the entrance, where Rachel was waiting. Quinn smiled, glee bubbling up in the pit of her stomach at the sight of her preppy girlfriend. When she and Rachel had started dating - and when everyone found out - Quinn felt more freedom than she ever thought possible. She had gotten on a freedom high, keeping her pink locks and smoking fragrant cigarettes just because she could. And Rachel had liked every bit of it; warning Quinn about getting 'too out of hand' while secretly being excited that she was dating a rebellious bad girl.

Quinn trotted up the steps and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, breathing in the smell of vanilla hand lotion. Rachel smiled blissfully, closing her eyes and squeezing her head against Quinn's shoulder. People were staring now. _Let them stare_, thought Quinn, as she pulled back and held her girlfriend at arm's length. Rachel's dark brown hair hung long past her shoulders, her bangs cut evenly above her eyebrows. Her brown eyes shone, surrounded by catlike liquid eyeliner and she stood impeccably straight in a tartan dress with pockets on the chest.

Two years ago, Quinn would've seen the outfit and stuck a finger in her mouth, pretending to barf, making her cheerleader friends laugh venomously. But now, Quinn smacked her lips together and shook her head, saying, "You get cuter every day."

Rachel blushed and looked around, half self-conscious and half proud that she had a girlfriend who thought she was cute. "Let me see your class schedule!" she said excitedly, taking her own white slip of paper out of her backpack.

Quinn fished the crumpled sheet out of her jeans pocket and handed it to Rachel, the girls exchanging their schedules, their eyes pouring over them. They had five classes together a day, they noted with smiles and glances, not including glee club.

"Quinn Fabray!"

Quinn winced at the sound of the voice, but looked over Rachel's shoulder and forced a smile. As students shuffled into the school, slowing down at the sight of Quinn and Rachel embracing, Morgan Ru appeared from inside the entrance, her black eyes bugged out.

"Hey, Morgan," Quinn said lazily.

"What happened to you?!" the head cheerleader gaped just in front of the double doors, shaking her head and staring at Quinn's outfit. Her black hair was tied up high in a forehead-stretching ponytail and she looked as toned as ever in her tightly fitted Cheerios uniform.

Quinn shrugged and narrowed her eyes at Morgan. "Got a makeover."

"A makeover? No no no. This is a makeunder. What are you trying to do? Is this some crazy scheme to get back on the Cheerios because we're screening the sign-up sheet so only-"

"Morgan," Quinn interrupted, sliding her hand into Rachel's, "I could care less."

Morgan glanced at their hands entwined, her eyes widening as she realized all the rumours she heard over the summer were true. "What is this, the Twilight Zone?! Has this whole town gone crazy? I mean, not that I'm complaining. Buffy Summers got expelled, Brittany moved away, you're a hipster lesbian and now, I have Prom Queen in the bag!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and walked away with her girlfriend, leaving Morgan staring after them as they made their way through the busy hive of students with eager smiles and fresh new tans from the summer sun.

"You _couldn't_ care less," Rachel corrected once they were out of earshot, "If you could care less, it means you at least care a little."

Quinn just smiled to herself as she spotted a couple of their friends down the hall. "Tina! Mike!"

The Type-A couple looked away from the bulletin board in the school's main hallway, where'd they'd been examining the list of extra-curriculars that would get them into Ivy League colleges, and smiled widely when they saw their friends.

Just as Quinn had gone through a major makeover that summer, so had Tina, who'd traded her streaks of electric blue for light brown highlights. She had taken on a massive surge of studying and all her free time was divided between pouring herself over books, spending time with her boyfriend and frequenting the cemetery with her friends. What the girl was studying, none of them really knew, but since she had little time for shopping at Hot Topic and painting her nails black, she had started wearing the vintage dresses that had once belonged to her mother. There was no ring of black eyeliner around her dark brown eyes. The chains, lace and studs had been too time consuming.

"So how was everybody's summers?" asked Mike, his arm around Tina's waist and a navy v-neck sweater hugging his biceps.

The three girls simply smirked at the question. _As if he didn't know_. At the end of the hall, two boys exited the registration office, hand-in-hand, catching Tina's eye.

"_Guys_!" Tina called, excited, as she nudged her boyfriend and nodded down at Kurt and Blaine, who, between the both of them, were decked in bow-ties, white-gold cufflinks, brightly colored pants and peter-pan collars.

Kurt gripped his boyfriend's hand and glanced at the people passing him as they made their way to their cliques. His eyes said _I dare you_ and sparkled green. Now that he and Blaine were seniors - _McKinley seniors _- he wasn't going to be the lost little boy he was last year. Goodbye to being a victim. Hello to being fabulous.

"I can't believe you guys are _here_," Rachel gushed, practically jumping up and down as the boys approached.

"I can't believe it, either," said Kurt, glancing at Blaine. Kurt had decided months ago to transfer back to McKinley, to be closer to the action of the Hellmouth, but he hadn't expected his boyfriend to up and leave Dalton Academy to be with him for their senior year.

"And everyone's signed up for glee club, right?" asked Rachel.

The other five nodded enthusiastically.

"Awesome!" she clapped her hands together, "This is gonna be the best year ever."

Tina smiled sadly. "I just wish Buffy was here."

The others grew quiet, reminded of why their summer had been so bittersweet. The fates of two of their friends - Buffy Summers and Santana Lopez - were unknown, and while some of them remained hopeful that the two girls had fled the town to be together in peace, others were less optimistic, silently wondering if both had died in an epic battle that none of them got to witness.

"Do you think Mr. Schue has any new leads?" asked Kurt.

With the steady development of his own psychic powers lending more and more nifty abilities to the teenage boy, Kurt tried almost every day to use his visions to help them all find their missing friend, to no avail. So much for clairvoyance. Mr. Schuester went the traditional route, tracking newspapers in nearby towns, trying to find out if anyone had spotted a cute little blond slayer. No such luck.

"Buffy clearly doesn't want to be found," Quinn said, tight-lipped, "Until she does, I don't think we're gonna find her."

"Quinn's right," Mike agreed, shrugging nonchalantly, "Buffy can take care of herself. She'll come back if she wants to."

"Does she know that school started?" asked Rachel.

"Wouldn't it be amazing if she just showed up, like nothing ever happened?" Tina asked aloud, mostly to herself.

"She can't just show up. She got kicked out," Mike solemnly reminded them, his feet firmly planted in reality.

He had been the most reluctant to up his duties as a scooby that summer with the rest of them, thinking that if Buffy cared at all about the wellbeing of Lima, she would come back, but Tina had eventually coaxed him into helping them patrol the graveyard and several dark downtown alleys in shifts, with no less than three of them together at a time.

Mr. Schuester often went with them on patrol, training them in combat like he would have trained Buffy, teaching them how to handle weaponry and work together to overpower a vamp. Each of the six teenagers had their own strengths and weaknesses. Quinn was the most lethal in a pack of vamps, with the ability to throw flames out of the palms of her hands, but her stamina died down after a while, leaving her quite literally burned out. Rachel was weak and easily frightened, but she was the best with tactic and strategy, often mapping plays like a hyper NFL coach.

Tina and Blaine had the most extensive knowledge on the supernatural, and knew what weaknesses belonged to what uglies, but their energy was quickly drained, making them regret all of the times they weaseled their way out of gym class to read a book on the bleachers. Kurt, with the ability to read minds - even those of the paranormal variety - could predict what the uglies were going to do next, but if he came too close to one he was in danger of experiencing a panic attack.

Mike was the only one who seemed woefully unenthusiastic about becoming a superhero that summer, only doing so because his girlfriend had roped him into it, and he hated being _that guy_, the one who thought it was more important to secure a summer program with Harvard than save lives. His father had been disappointed, but Mike was used to that, and ignored the guilt.

In the awkward silence of Mike's realist remark, Puck bounded over to the group of friends and slapped his arms down on Blaine's shoulders, making the smaller boy jump.

"Easy, Bowtie," Puck guffawed, and looked at the others, "How's everybody doing? Eventful summer?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at them, knowing exactly what they'd done that summer, having helped them patrol a weekend or two. Quinn rolled her eyes at him and he pretended not to notice.

"Football tryouts at the end of the day," he said, "Kurt, you up for it? Team needs a kicker."

"Not this year, Puck," Kurt smiled tightly, "I have everything planned out. Glee club, theatre, student council. Volunteer at the thrift store on Thursdays and put together an online portfolio of stellar performances for NYADA."

"NYADA?" Puck repeated.

"New York Academy of Dramatic Arts," Rachel eagerly interrupted, "The perfect school for Broadway hopefuls, aspiring screen actors, opera singers, recording artists... Our dream school. Kurt and I are going next year-"

"Well, we didn't get accepted yet-"

"-so when I get elected Class President, Kurt can be my running mate."

"Thanks for your generosity, Rachel," Kurt frowned sarcastically.

"Whoa, New York," Puck nodded, impressed, "So I assume Bowtie and Strawberry Shortcake are going with?"

Quinn glared at the mohawked boy and Blaine squirmed, looking uncomfortable.

"Or not," Puck shrugged, feeling the awkwardness in the air.

"It's undecided," said Quinn.

"But possible," said Blaine.

"Uh huh," Puck sighed, and looked at Tina and Mike, "How about Asian Fusion? You lover-birds going to Yale together next Fall?"

"Harvard," Mike corrected.

"I don't know where I'm going yet," said Tina.

"But you're a shoe-in for H-Town," Mike said encouragingly.

Tina shrugged. "Just keeping my options open."

She hadn't meant it to sound so dismissive, but she already knew exactly what she wanted to do, and hadn't gotten around to breaking the news to her boyfriend yet. Besides, she doubted anyone actually called Harvard 'H-Town'.

"Anyhow, Mr. Schue wants to see us in the choir room," said Puck.

Rachel clapped her hands together like a seal. "First glee club meeting of the year!" she said excitedly and grabbed Quinn by the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

The group made their way to the choir room, where Artie Abrams was looking lonely in the front row, Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones were whispering, giggling and clinging to each others' arms and Piper Saberhagen was sitting in the back row looking lost, wearing a denim jacket over a dress, her blond hair lying flat.

"Hey, guys," Mr. Schuester smiled tiredly at them, standing next to whiteboard, "Welcome back to McKinley."

"Nice to see you, Mr. Schue," Rachel smiled sweetly, while the rest of them mumbled greetings and took a seat.

Everyone in the school had regarded Will Schuester with quiet tones and solemn looks. Before the summer had begun, his girlfriend had been killed and Buffy, who'd been like a little sister to him, vanished, leaving only a note for her mother behind. Will had spent the last three months either training the scoobies or searching for Buffy, and getting nowhere, leaving no time for himself and no time to reflect on his life. It was too tragic for him to bear.

"So, welcome back, New Directions," he said to them all, trying to muster up enthusiasm though the sparkle in his eyes were flat, "I know, last year was difficult for a lot of us..."

He trailed off, getting uncomfortable as he tried to remember what he rehearsed.

"...But glee club has always been a home for anyone who needs it, so with each other's support, we will be able to get through anything. All of you are set to graduate this year, and while our goodbye will be bittersweet, I look forward to sending you on your way with everything you need. Nationals are in Los Angeles this year, guys."

He paused to let the glee clubbers swoon and giggle excitedly over thoughts of beaming California weather and star-spotting.

"And with your commitment, we're going to win," he nodded convincingly, "Firstly, I want to welcome our new member and transfer student, Blaine Anderson."

The glee clubbers clapped, smiling warmly at Blaine, who blushed charmingly.

"I'm glad to see you're already at home here, Blaine," Mr. Schue smiled, "Now, as you can see, we're two members short."

In the silence, they all felt the blunt absence of the club's bubbliest blonds, Buffy, and Brittany Pierce, whose family moved away that summer after the death of Brittany's father. Only the scoobies knew that Doug Pierce died at the hands of a soulless Santana Lopez, before her soul could be restored by their witchcraft. Brittany had been depressed before that, but the loss of her parent made her sadness sharper and harder to distract herself from, so their mother took her and her sister up north to be with family and repeat her junior year in a new school.

"As hard as it'll be to replace who we've lost," said Mr. Schuester, pausing before he could get choked up, "We have to recruit at least two new members to qualify for state championships. So keep on the lookout for students with talent. Maybe find some freshmen who want to find their niche or seniors looking to round out impressive college applications, alright?"

The bell rang for first period - the first class of the year, and the glee clubbers filed out, waving politely at Mr. Schuester as they left. Rachel pursed her lips and worried that the watcher would never feel right without his slayer. Will worried the same.

xxx

_Buffy let her feet dig into the sand and the frothy, low-tide waves tickled her ankles. The gorgeous Californian beach was practically deserted and she closed her eyes, basking in the sun, a thin cotton daydress clinging to her legs as she smelled the salt-water. Two arms slid around her waist from behind and she smiled at their touch and opened her eyes, easing herself around._

"_How did you find me here?"_

_Santana smiled back, her cinnamon eyes warm. "If I was blind, I could still find you."_

_Buffy folded herself into Santana's arms. "Stay with me."_

"_That's the point, slayer," Santana murmured into Buffy's blond hair, "I'll never leave. Not even if you kill me."_

Buffy shot up from her bed and coughed, sweat making her fair hair cling to her forehead. She reached over and turned on the lamp on the bedside table, illuminating the spacious room. There were no windows in her room, but the digital clock told her it was five o'clock on the morning as the numbers glowed red. Buffy clutched her head in her hands, exhausted.

Every night, her dreams alternated between a vision of what she wished had happened after that fateful night in May, and a recollection of what actually happened. The latter always included her and Santana, sometimes embracing on a beach, or lying in a pile of crunchy autumn leaves. Sometimes they were with friends at the Bronze, sometimes they were alone under silky sheets. The former was a much bleaker reality.

The memory was vivid in the slayer's mind. A curse had taken Santana's soul, turning her into the malicious and blood-thirsty Snix, who was hell bent on destroying the world as they knew it. All Buffy had wanted for months was for Snix to disappear and Santana to come back, with her sarcastic smirk, her warm, loving eyes and her taut arms holding Buffy tight. For a brief moment, Buffy's wish had been granted.

She had held Santana - the real Santana - in her arms, realizing that Quinn's spell, the one to restore Santana's soul, must have worked with flying colors, because here she was! But then Buffy saw the whirlpool portal to Hell over Santana's shoulder. Snix had opened it, intent on sucking their world into one much nastier, using her own blood as they key. Buffy realized, as she hugged her girlfriend, that if Snix's - Santana's - blood had opened the portal, only her blood could close it.

Buffy brought her hand to her temple and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to remember what happened next. She skipped forward the scenes of that night until she was at the Lima bus station with the little savings of allowance she had, intent on hitching her way back to LA and finding some tiny rental apartment in a bad neighborhood. All she knew was that she couldn't go home. She had met Santana on her first day at McKinley and she couldn't face living in Lima and not seeing her in the cemetery or at her house. Besides, her mother had flipped when she found out Buffy was a vampire slayer. She couldn't face her again.

Just as the bus screeched to a halt and Buffy picked up her duffel bag, ready to cross the country on her own, a heavy hand had clapped down on her shoulder. Buffy jumped and spun around, tears streaking her face even after she'd stopped crying.

"Angel," she sighed, looking up at the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man.

His mouth was in a tight frown and his eyes were paler than Buffy had ever seen them. It had only been two hours since... Buffy shook her head. She didn't want to think about it. But something in Angel's eyes told her that he already knew.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said, "I went to Snix's lair."

Buffy sniffed. "You did?"

He nodded solemnly. "Quinn says they finished the spell-"

"I know," Buffy nodded, "I mean... it worked."

Angel frowned, understanding. "The portal was already open-"

"-I had no other choice-"

"I know. You don't have to explain."

Buffy swallowed and ignored the tightening of her throat. She glanced at the bus to see all of the passengers had either left or boarded. "I better go," she murmured.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere. I can't stay in this town anymore. Not after tonight."

"Buffy-"

"Don't try to stop me, okay? I can't bear it. My mom doesn't want me around and I can't go back to my friends and tell them... What am I supposed to tell them? I can barely _think _about it, never mind _say it_. Oh, God-"

"I'm not trying to stop you," Angel said softly, "I'm trying to offer you a place to stay."

Buffy blinked through a blur of tears. "What?"

"Where were you planning on going?"

Buffy sniffed. "I was gonna stay at a hostel or something and find a job... waitressing or something. Then get a cheap apartment. As cheap as I can find. Probably in LA."

"You're seventeen years old. You're gonna live in the slums of California on your own?"

"Well-"

"Come with me to New York."

Buffy gaped at him for a moment. "What? Why?"

"I have a place there. It's not much, but my name's on the deed. Or, well, _a _name is on the deed. You can stay there for as long as you like." 

"Angel, you don't have to-"

"You can't be on your own. Not because I don't think you could, but... she wouldn't want you to be."

Buffy looked down at the gravel under her feet.

"I'm not such a bad roommate," he said when she hadn't spoken, "I don't cook, but I'm clean. Quiet during the day. Not usually home at night."

Buffy smirked and sniffed, looking up at him, grateful. "Thank you, Angel."

And now, she was here. Living in New York City, in a basement apartment under an unused office building that Angel had bought back in the '20s when it had been under a tuberculosis clinic. It had a few bedrooms, a small kitchen and one bathroom, but since Angel had no need for human amenities, Buffy mostly had the bathroom to herself.

Unable to sleep, she stood up, leaving her bed a mess, and crossed the hardwood floor to her dresser, where her green smock was waiting. For the first month, she hadn't gone anywhere, wallowing in self pity, but the lack of sunlight in the basement apartment was starting to make her crazy and she needed to start generating her own money.

Angel - whose personal bank account had swelled over the better part of two hundred years of existence - had generously supplied money for groceries he didn't eat, but it made Buffy feel useless. So she got a job waitressing in a cafe. The pay wasn't great, but a job was a job, she told herself. And hers wasn't so bad. At the very least, it wasn't life-threatening.

She dressed in her uniform - a jade green polo shirt and smock, and knee-length black skirt. She pinned on her nametag - it said 'Anne'. She brushed her blond hair back into a ponytail and looked at the day's date in the corner of her alarm clock. Today was the first day of school. The first day of what would have been her senior year.

Her heart panged at the thought of her friends attending their first glee club meeting and laughing together in the cafeteria. Rachel was probably on hyper-drive, trying to get into the country's top performing arts academy, while Tina went the Ivy League route. She frowned and thought about Will. Did he miss her? Did he hate her for leaving? If she thought about it for too long, she would cry.

She left her room and went to the kitchen, the old-fashioned fridge humming softly. She took the last of the eggs out of the fridge and whisked them into an omelette. Once it was made, she found her appetite just wasn't there and left her plate by the sink. Angel came in, a dark jacket draped over his hunched, broad shoulders.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she replied, "Just getting home?"

Angel nodded. "Sun's about to rise. You're up pretty early."

Buffy shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Oh," he said, "Well, I'll be in my room."

Buffy watched him leave down the hall, unsatisfied with their awkward exchange. Restless, she left the house and decided to be ridiculously early for work.

**a/n: Thanks for reading! I'm really excited about Season 3! A lot of cool stuff is gonna happen and I hope people will be pleasantly surprised. I hope this chapter gave a good summation of how everyone is after their summer, since that was it's only real purpose. Next chapter, you'll get to see Jesse and Shelby again, and Buffy bumps into someone from her past. Please review! I'd love to hear what you think about the start of a new season.**

**Sidenote: Did anyone catch the Teen Choice Awards? So much love for Lea Michele right now, and for all of the Gleeks.**


	74. The First Day

**a/n: Thanks for reviewing! I know some people want to know who's going to be the next slayer, but my lips are sealed. As for Punk!Quinn, she'll stick around a lot longer than she did on Glee (half an episode) because then who else would be our resident bad girl now that Santana and Buffy are gone?**

**Enjoy! xoxo**

**Chapter 71**

**The First Day**

"I have a lead."

Shelby looked up from the paperwork on her desk, her eyes drawn over her reading glasses. Will had stuck his head in through the door, wanting to talk, as he's made a habit since she started working at McKinley before last summer. She frowned sympathetically at him, dark circles under his tired eyes and the light from the window falling over his coppery curls.

"Oh?" she said, putting down her heavy ballpoint pen and resting back in her swivel chair, ready to listen.

"In Fort Worth, a friend of mine reported sightings of a girl fending off vampires in a cemetery. I'm gonna take off early and catch a flight out," he said, nervously tapping his finger against the door-frame.

"What makes this different from the last nine leads?" Shelby asked skeptically, folding her arms over her dark purple sweater.

Will sighed, looking defeatedly at the carpet. "This flight has a meal."

Shelby frowned and stood from her chair, leaning against the edge of her desk. "Listen, Will, I'm not trying to break your spirit, but I think if Buffy wants to be found, she'll let you find her."

"I have to keep looking," Will said dutifully, "I can't give up. But, while I'm gone, the kids should probably take a break from patrolling."

Shelby nodded. "I don't think they can keep up with the slayer regime this year, anyways."

"What do you mean?"

"Will, it's their senior year. Kurt and Rachel want to go to a prestigious performing arts school in New York, Mike Chang's heart is set on Harvard and I'm sure Tina will want to apply to an Ivy League, too. Blaine's father is a tenured professor at OSU. Quinn's grades are cut out for any Big Ten school... These kids have big futures in store for them and they need all of the time they can get this year to make them happen."

Will nodded. "I understand that, but until the slayer is back, this town needs to be protected. We have a responsibility to protect it."

"That's a pretty big responsibility for a bunch of teenagers."

Will frowned. He'd had time enough to mull over the hypocrisy of thinking that teenagers were ready for the responsibility of choosing the path to their futures, but not to protect the people of their hometown. Still, he often got the feeling that he was taking the scoobies away from something.

"I think Emma would have said the same thing," he said aloud.

Shelby smiled sadly. "Thank you, Will."

"Yeah," he sighed without commitment, "I'll talk to you later."

With his shoulders hunched, he walked out Shelby's office and through a scatter of students rushing through the halls on their first day back. He wasn't as enthusiastic as everyone else about the return to school and felt lost without his slayer, and without his girlfriend. He now had to fit looking for Buffy in between teaching Spanish classes to bored sophomores.

"Will?"

Will looked up from staring at the linoleum floor as he walked and saw Terri standing in front of him in her creased, white nurse's uniform.

"Oh, hi, Terri."

Before Emma's death, Will and Terri had openly and passionately hated each other's guts, but now, Terri couldn't bring herself to hate her ex-husband after he lost someone who clearly made him happy. Mostly she avoided him, sure he didn't want to see her, but sometimes her presence actually made him feel better. For one thing, she reminded him that with time, he could move on.

"How are you?" she asked, noticing the weary creases in his angular face.

"Fine. Good. Great," he said without smiling.

"Are you sure?" she asked, as students rushed to their next classes, emptying the hallway.

Will paused and looked at her blue eyes. "No. No, not really. It's been a rough summer."

Terri nodded, sympathetic. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Will frowned, reminded that Brittany's late father, Doug Pierce, had been Terri's cousin, and that Brittany's mother, who'd moved their whole family away, was Terri's best friend. He realized for the first time that Terri was probably just as lost and lonely as he was.

"I'm sorry about Doug," he said quietly.

Terri looked surprised he'd mentioned it. "Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful, "I'm sorry about... everything. About Buffy. I know I haven't always been..."

She sighed and twirled her finger around her necklace, unsure of how to apologize for everything she'd done. She had almost gotten the slayer killed before, and with no remorse. Now, everything had changed.

"It's okay," Will said, understanding where she was going, "I know. I know."

Terri smiled, a little embarrassed. "Have you been looking for her?"

"Almost constantly. I'm headed to Fort Worth in a couple days, but it's a long shot."

"Have you talked to Buffy's mother?"

"Not since after Buffy went missing. She showed me a note that Buffy left her, explaining that she couldn't stay in Lima after everything that had happened."

"Maybe you should talk to her again and tell her about Fort Worth. Maybe she'll want to help you look. It's her daughter, after all."

Will looked down at Terri and nodded. "That's a good idea."

xxx

"Can I get a grande cafe mocha, no sugar, with half skimmed and half full milk?"

Buffy knitted her eyebrows down at her order pad. "Is 2% okay?"

"No," the customer - a pink-cheeked girl with a frizzy blond ponytail and earrings shaped like cameo paintings - wrinkled her nose and slowly repeated, "Half skimmed and half full milk."

Buffy gritted her teeth. "Got it."

"And can I have raspberry syrup, mixed with the milk and _then _the coffee," the frizzy blonde said, slowly, as if she figured Buffy wasn't too bright.

Buffy nodded and wrote 'Rasp. mocha, no sugar, 2%' on her order pad and no further instructions.

"And you?" she asked, turning to Frizzy's friend, a girl whose sleek brown hair was cut in angular bob and her eyes were half-opened lazily behind her clear-lensed Ray Bans.

"Medium half-caf no foam vanilla soy latte," the brunette said without pausing, "And a bran muffin. No raisins."

"Anything else?"

The girls shook their heads and went back to their conversation, dismissing their waitress. Buffy sighed, turning away in her green smock to walk back to the counter and gave the order to the barista.

She had to admit, this cafe gig was a lot better than the job she'd first secured in a diner franchise as a fry cook that had made her break out in zits. That hadn't lasted long. She promptly quit when she found a job at the Manhattan coffee shop called Laszlo's. The pay was surprisingly good and the work was easy. The only setback was dealing with the entitled hipster children of wealthy Upper East Siders who thought they were coffee bean aficionados.

She overheard a boy with a goatee and a beanie hat say that he loved supporting small, non-chain cafes like this one, even if it was more expensive, because Starbucks was the 'McDonald's of coffee shops'. _Gag_.

"Anne?"

Buffy almost didn't look up when her boss called the name she'd put on her nametag. Pulling inspiration from Quinn Fabray, she figured her middle name was suitable for starting a new life with. And just when she was in a WASP-y enough place where the name Buffy wasn't weird. Swell.

"Yeah?" she replied, leaving the orders with the baristas and walking over to Fred Laszlo, the coffee shop's owner, who had a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard.

He led her into the break room where a lithe, pale blonde was tying a green smock around her waist. Buffy blinked at the girl's doe eyes and ill-suited red lipstick.

"Anne, this is Lily. Our new waitress," said Fred, smiling at the new girl, "Lil', Annie's gonna take you under her wing. Show you the ropes."

"I am?" asked Buffy.

"Sure you are."

Buffy frowned. "I've only been working here for two months."

"Longer than most of the idiots around here," Fred grunted, "Why don't you let Lily shadow you today? By tomorrow, our Annie can have a little help on the floor. Sound okay to you girls?"

Lily nodded gratefully, her long, bone-straight blond hair against her cheeks. "Thanks, Freddie."

Fred chuckled, his smile reaching his eyes. Nicknames were his weakness. "Give her a pep talk, eh, Annie?" he nudged Buffy in the ribs and left the room.

Buffy sighed and turned back to Lily, hoping her smile looked encouraging. "It's really not that hard. Taking orders. Balancing trays. The worst part is dealing with complex coffee orders. Most of these people think they're coffee experts, but the truth is, they probably wouldn't notice the difference between an Ethiopian blend and a Dunkin' Donuts latte."

"Anne, right?" Lily asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, Anne Winters."

"You don't recognize me, do you?"

Buffy blinked at her. Truth was, she did recognize Lily. Her pale hair, her babyish face and her scrawny, self-conscious demeanour.

"Um, no," she said unconvincingly, afraid she'd met a former classmate from Lima.

"Are you sure? Where are you from?"

"We should get back to the tables. I have customers-"

"Buffy?"

Buffy blanched.

"Don't be mad," Lily said quickly, "I won't turn you in or anything. I'm... I mean, I used to be... Chanterelle."

Buffy's brain clicked. She remembered Lily perfectly now - as Chanterelle, the pale-faced, naive vampire worshipper with purple lips, who'd almost followed Buffy's old friend Ford into a trap set by Spike, until Buffy had saved her.

"Uh, yeah," Buffy said under her breath, "I remember."

Lily nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "I never thanked you, you know. For saving us."

Buffy's eyes darted to the door. "Were you trying to find me?"

"No," Lily shook her head, her eyes wide, "I didn't even know you worked here."

Buffy stuck her tongue in her cheek and looked at Lily's face, her surprise seeming genuine. "So no-one else knows that I'm here?"

"No. And I won't tell anyone. I know what it feels like, to want to get lost," she said good-naturedly.

Buffy nodded, knowing that Lily looked like a girl without guidance. Who else would willingly sacrifice themselves to vampires?

xxx

"Hey, Hudson."

Finn looked up from where he was hunched over the the drinking fountain at the end of the east hall, right outside Mr. Perry's senior Economics class. Quinn Fabray had one shoulder leaned up against the wall and smirked down at him, the white stick of a sucker pointing out of her mouth. He almost didn't recognize her with her pink hair and her new wardrobe.

"Quinn. Hey," he said tentatively.

He'd barely spoken to her since last year, when he'd accidentally put a love spell on every girl in Lima. Since then, he'd attempted to keep a low profile, with every woman in town giving him nasty glares. Eventually, the glares had died down and he'd found solace in keeping himself busy with school work, and then housework in the summer and a weekend job at his stepfather's tire shop. But even he had heard the gossip - Quinn Fabray had undergone a total transformation when the summer had started. A transformation that included the only two girl's Finn had ever dating becoming a couple.

"Excited about your first day?" she asked, almost jokingly, taking the small cherry globe out of her mouth.

He rubbed his hands on his jeans and wondered what she wanted. "Sure," he replied unconvincingly.

"Really?" she asked, skeptical.

Finn shrugged, his shoulders square under his letterman jacket. "No, not really."

"Yeah. Senior year. It's pretty crazy."

"Yeah."

"Everybody's gonna be gone next year," Quinn sighed, gazing over at the flyers that adorned the row of pea green lockers.

Finn nodded. "Yeah," he just repeated breathlessly, not wanting to ask what Quinn was doing after high school, in case she returned the question.

Quinn ducked her head and peered up at him. It didn't take a psychic to know how he was feeling. And she was his ex-girlfriend, after all.

"I have no idea what I'm gonna do after graduation," she admitted, her voice soft and exasperated.

Finn gave her a hint of a crooked grin, feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, me either. Everybody's talking about what colleges they're going to, and internships, and moving away. I don't even know what I want to do."

Quinn smiled. "I know, and everyone's like, 'So, what are your interests?' And I'm like, 'I don't have any!' Is that so hard to believe?!"

Finn smiled wide, showing all his milky white teeth. "Yeah, if only they had college courses on grilled cheese, I'd be set."

Quinn laughed, throwing her head back, catching a few looks from their passing classmates. "So, what classes do you have this year?" she asked, an amused smile still on her face.

Finn shrugged, his smile waning.

"You don't know?" Quinn challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Finn sighed. "Just a bunch of slacker classes. Oral Communication. Woodworking. Statistics-"

"Statistics isn't a slacker class," Quinn defended.

"Oh, yeah, says you who's probably doing AP everything."

Quinn frowned. She was taking four AP classes that semester, and would have eight by the end of the year, including one online college course for extra credit. But she didn't want to brag.

"Not Social Studies. Rachel's taking AP US History and I'm stuck in Econ."

Finn smirked a little. "I'm taking Econ, too."

"Fifth period with Ms. Eaton?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Cool. We can sit together."

Finn looked down at her and furrowed his brow. "So what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You really changed over the summer. For one thing, you don't hate my guts."

"-I never hated you," Quinn paused, and then rolled her eyes, "Okay, I hated you a little. For a while. But I don't anymore. If Rachel can forgive you, so can I. I mean, it's not like I didn't do some awful stuff to you, too."

Finn nodded. "Well, thanks, Quinn."

"Yeah, no problem. So, any extra-curriculars?"

Finn wrinkled his nose. "Why are you so interested in my school schedule?"

Quinn shrugged, and sighed. "We miss you in glee club."

"You do?" he asked, skeptically.

Sure, he was a good singer, but his dancing took him down a few pegs - made him a liability, even. Besides, he heard Kurt and Blaine practising, or just singing to each other for fun. They had theatricality. Exactly what a show choir needs. Finn figured he should just stick to shop classes.

"Yeah..." Quinn tried on a sweet smile, before turning it into a disappointed frown, "Okay, I can't do this. It's insulting to your intelligence. We're down two members this year, what with Brittany and Buffy skipping town, and Rachel's pulling her hair out about winning Nationals this year and I mean, I don't even care that much, I'm only doing glee club because it gives me a Fine Arts credit and obviously because Rachel is doing it-"

"I get it, I get it," Finn frowned, holding up his hand, "You need to recruit new members so glee club can compete."

Quinn sighed, defeated. "Yeah. But, look, we really _do _miss you in glee club. Well, some of us. And, yeah, you're not the best dancer, but who cares? You have a great voice and a leading man quality. Rachel says it all the time. Or, she used to."

"Does she know you're trying to recruit me?"

"I might have mentioned it."

Finn looked down at the linoleum tiles, mulling it over. "So you and Rachel. You're... I mean, people have been saying-"

"That we're dating? Yeah, we are. It's not like I don't get why that would bother you, but-"

"Did I have anything to do with that?"

Quinn paused. "What? No. It doesn't work that way."

"No, no, I mean-" he said, awkwardly clearing his throat, "Never mind. I'll join glee club."

"You will? Really?! Oh, Finn, thank you-!"

"On one condition," he held up a finger.

Quinn paled. "What?"

"Dance numbers? I'm in the back."

xxx

"So, you live nearby?"

Buffy and Lily fell into step with each other as they walked home from their shifts at Laszlo's. It was mid-afternoon and the streets were packed with yellow taxis, dusty cargo trucks and stretch limos. The air smelled like fall foliage, car exhaust and strong black coffees wafting out of rows of trendy lunch-break spots.

"Not really. I stayed in an apartment with a friend in Korea Town for a while. Now I'm trying out hostels in Manhattan. Saving up for a place of my own. Where did you come up with Anne?" Lily asked over the sound of horns honking and pedestrians rushing past them.

"It's my middle name," Buffy explained.

"Oh. Lily's from a song. The Smashing Pumpkins. I used to be really into them."

Buffy nodded, knowing the song from when Tina played on the iPod dock in her dad's Volkswagen when they drove to Six Flags on spring break. _Lily, my one and only. I can hardly wait to see her._ Buffy didn't have the heart to tell her that the song was about a hopeless stalker.

"It's nice."

"I'm always changing it, anyways. Chanterelle was apart of my goth phase."

Buffy almost wanted to ask what name she was born with, but she didn't want to dredge up unwanted memories for her new co-worker.

"Well, I like Lily."

"Yeah, it's cool for now. Do you have any money?"

Buffy almost stumbled over her feet at the forward question.

"I don't mean it like that!" Lily said quickly, "I just mean, I know this guy who's having this sort of party in his basement and it's three dollars to get in. We could go together."

"I don't think so," Buffy shrugged, not liking the idea of losing herself in a basement full of strobe lights and people tricked out of their minds, "I kind of want to be alone."

"Right," Lily said quietly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to bug you."

"No, I just mean... A lot of people would be too much for me right now."

"It's fine, forget about it."

"No, really-"

Buffy was about to assure Lily that her company was welcome when a man ploughed into Buffy's side, rushing past her. For half a second, she thought it was a high strung college student rushing to get somewhere - typical of a 6th Avenue sidewalk - but when she looked up, it was a red-faced, unshaven man dressed in tattered rags, mumbling to himself.

"Excuse you!" Lily called angrily after him as he stepped out into the street.

He turned around, his eyes wide and terrified as he quietly mumbled to himself. The expression on his face made Buffy's stomach churn.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, not sure she said it loud enough for him to hear.

She strained her ears as he continued mumbling, and thought she heard him say, "I'm no-one." She stared at him, incredulous, until she noticed a truck ploughing toward him, it's pot-bellied driver with his pinky in his ear, his eyes rolled up obliviously.

"Watch out!" Buffy shouted.

Acting in pure instinct, she bolted toward the ragged man and pushed him out of the way, knocking him across the street and watching him fall against the curb. The truck's tire screeched and swerved, but not before smashing into Buffy's hip. Sprawled on the ground, she heard the truck collide with a fire hydrant. She lifted her head, her body tense from the hit, to see the hydrant spraying water up into the air and on the hood of the truck. Footsteps rushed forward and she raised herself up with her arms.

"Oh my God, Buffy!"

She would have reprimanded Lily for using her real name if that had been her biggest problem of the moment. The trucker rushed out of his vehicle and ran toward Buffy, his face pale and panicked.

"What were you doing?!" he demanded.

Buffy looked over at the sidewalk, but the man she saved had disappeared, and people were crowding around to get a good look at the scene.

"You shouldn't move," said Lily, leaning down to her.

"Yeah, lie down," said the trucker, "I'll call an ambulance."

"It's okay..." Buffy said, looking nervously around at the curious bystanders, "I have to go..."

"Buff- Anne!" Lily called as Buffy stood up and took off, sprinting down the street.

Buffy ran down the street and turned the corner, trying to shake off any looky-loos. She ran straight into a man's broad shoulders and with a grunt, he let go of his grip on a stack of colorful flyers.

"Sorry!" Buffy winced, and looked up at him as the flyers fell to the ground. He was young - maybe just a few years older than she was - and his golden curls reached his jawline. He smiled widely, showing off his pearly teeth.

"Where are you running off to?" he asked, friendly, as Buffy bent over and started picking the flyers off of the damp alleyway ground with haste.

He was dressed nicely, in a crisp white dress shirt and a beige sweater tightly hugging his lean frame. Buffy didn't reply as he bent down, getting at her level and gathering flyers in his taut hands.

"Or, should I say, where are you running _from_?" he asked, knowingly.

She looked up, spooked by the certainty in his voice. It was as if he knew exactly who she was. Her heartbeat started to pick up even faster as she panicked, thinking that maybe she was listed as a missing person. Maybe her picture adorned a pinboard in the 7th precinct. Maybe her face was on the side of the carton of organic almond milk that this preppy do-gooder ate with his muesli.

"I'm guessing you're not from around here. You've got the look, though," he said.

Buffy gripped a messy stack of the remainder of the flyers and squeezed them so hard their middles were jagged like accordions.

"The look?"

"Like you had to grow up way too fast," he said, his pale blue eyes softening, "What's your name?"

Buffy shuffled on her feet. She was eager to get away from him, but his gentle voice and sympathetic smile weren't unwelcome. "Anne," she replied, and thrusted the flyers into his hands.

"Anne," he repeated like it was poetry, "Anne, I'm Jeremiah. Here, keep one of these."

Jeremiah handed her a crumpled flyer and she glanced at it, the words 'Family Home' in bold on the top.

"Don't be a stranger," he smiled, "Even if you don't need food or shelter... there might be something you do need that we can give you. Something... more."

Buffy frowned. The way he said 'more' gave her the sense that he was talking about something spiritual.

"I'm alright," she assured him.

"Are you?"

Who _was _this guy? And who was he to assume that Buffy was some down-on-your-luck orphan Annie? All he could tell by looking at her was that she was a Manhattan waitress. For all he knew, she could be an NYU student wanting some extra cash from a part-time job, or an aspiring actress, waitressing during the day and taking improv classes at night. And yet, his blue eyes, almost like a crystal ball, seemed to know more.

"New York is a strange place for a kid," he continued, "You grow up fast."

xxx

"Summer is not over. I refuse to believe it."

Quinn floated atop a plastic blow-up lounge chair in the middle of the lagoon-shaped pool in Lima Heights, the warm sun beating down on her face as round sunglasses shaded her leafy-green eyes. Rachel, whose dress was draped over a pink polka-dotted bikini, had done little more than dip her toes into the warm water. She sat patiently at the wood-varnished picnic table, under a wide, red-and-white sun umbrella, her brown eyes fluttering over her girlfriend.

"We should get started soon if we want to visit the graveyard tonight," Rachel reminded her for the second time, as she tapped her pencil against the AP English assignment waiting for them.

"We have plenty of time before sundown."

"Not if we want to visit Shelby's."

Before the summer, Quinn and Puck had started visiting their daughter, Beth, weekly, and then bi-weekly, and then daily, with Shelby Corcoran's permission. It took Quinn longer to become comfortable with holding the beautiful baby girl she'd given birth to a year earlier, but now she was quickly offering to babysit any time that Shelby needed to work and Jesse needed a night off.

When Quinn and Rachel became more serious - and it didn't take long - Rachel had started visiting Beth, too, even though the situation was more than confusing for everyone. Beth's adoptive mother was Rachel's biological mother, and Beth's biological mother was Rachel's girlfriend. Not to mention that Beth's full-time nanny was Rachel's ex-boyfriend - _and _Shelby's former lover. Yes, confusing, to say the least.

"Well, I _could _do it in the morning," Quinn mused.

"_Quinn_," Rachel whined, exasperated, "That's no way to start off your senior year."

"Why not?"

"This is our _last year of high school_. We have to milk it for all it's worth! No-one wants to graduate with nothing to show for it, and no-one wants to leave this worthless town more than _me_. I have big plans for this year."

Quinn smirked. "You have big plans for every year."

"This year is different," she said theatrically, raising her hands with a Broadway flourish, "The only way I'm going to get into NYADA is if I work for it and Quinn, I've been working my whole life. This is the year I'm gonna get results. I'm not settling for anything less than a lead role in this year's school musical. I'm going to be elected class president. I'm going to maintain a four point oh GPA with all of my APs and take New Directions to Nationals and place in the top ten show choir groups if it kills me!"

"Rachel, your college applications are already going to be impressive enough. You speak Italian, volunteer at the pound every weekend and you've been playing piano since you were seven."

"It's not enough, Quinn! People from all over the world will be applying to NYADA. I have to be something special!"

"You _are _something special."

"But I have to prove it. I'm not taking any chances."

Quinn sighed, letting her hand tread in the water. "You're really set on NYADA, huh?"

"Of course I am. It has the best theatre program in the country. Besides, I've always wanted to live in New York. You know that," Rachel paused to look at Quinn, who was nodding silently in the middle of the pool, "I bet you'd like New York, too."

Quinn stomach gurgled. "Maybe."

"Just think about us living together in a tiny apartment in SoHo. Eating breakfast at Tiffany's. Window-shopping at Barney's. Star spotting in Central Park. Drinking fruity virgin cocktails on New Year's Eve!"

Quinn smiled as Rachel got a dreamy look on her face. Truth was, New York didn't sound half bad when she put it like that. She was willing to entertain to idea of being a starving artist in SoHo and taking classes at NYU when it put that smile on Rachel's face.

"I'm planning on scheduling an interview before Thanksgiving, and auditions are in March. You should come to New York with me. We can tour the campus and even look at NYU. You can experience the city for yourself."

Quinn exhaled through her nose. She didn't hate the idea of following Rachel to New York, but she didn't want to commit to following a path to a future that wasn't even really hers.

"Well, in the meantime, you and I can do our English homework," she said, turning on her stomach on her lounge and using her arms as paddles to bring herself to the pool's edge.

The last thing she wanted to do was analyze Robert Frost poetry when she and her girlfriend were clad in form-fitting swimsuits on a hot day, but she'd do anything to change the subject.

"Hey, want to do it for me?" she grinned, taking off her sunglasses and looking up at Rachel from the edge of the pool.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Come on, Quinn, like you need my help. I've read your old English assignments. It's Grade A material. Award-winning potential, even."

Quinn thought about the old assignments her sophomore Lit. teacher would give her, allowing them to write essays on the poets of their choice. Quinn tended to stick to Dickinson, Plath and Poe, even before she was willing to admit having a thing for the tortured and pathetic. No-one assumed she was any deeper than ponytails and pom-poms. Except Rachel. But with cheerleading, pregnancy, witchcraft, the death of her soul sister and the disappearance of her friend, Quinn had little time for curling up with a copy of 'The Bell Jar'.

She lamely stuck her arm out for Rachel to take. "You're gonna have to rescue me, starlet. I'm stranded," she said.

Rachel smirked and stood up, grabbing a pool noodle off of the patio and holding it out for Quinn to grab. "Come on. Mr. Frost is waiting for us."

Quinn reached out and gripped the edge of the foam noodle, tugging it hard and pulling Rachel into the pool. The girl sunk with a splash and bobbed back up to the surface, her brown hair wet and matted to her head, and her mouth wide open in a perfect circle. She grinned and put her hands under the plastic lounge, turning it upside-down and tossing Quinn off of it.

Eventually, they called a truce and started on their English assignments with warm towels draped over their shoulders. As Quinn chewed the end of her pencil and mulled over Frost's view on the road less taken, she wondered what road she would take. The one that led to Rachel and New York, or somewhere entirely different?

**a/n: Eek! Anyone else excited about Season 3? I know I am. Where do you think all the kids are gonna end up by the end of the year? I'm gonna throw a topic of discussion out there for everyone: Faberry. Thoughts?**

**Thanks for reading! xoxo**


	75. The Bait

**Chapter 72**

**The Bait**

Jesse leaned over Shelby's gray marble island counter in the centre of her square kitchen, his shoulders shading a black and white page at the back of _The Daily Lima_ while a thick portable television in the corner of the counterspace buzzed with the local news.

"_...while Old Mrs. Fink was brought to safety by a group of teenagers who remain nameless, her Corgi, Pepper, was found drained of blood the next morning."_

"_Oh, Rod, what kind of madman would kill an adorable little puppy dog?"_

"_The worst kind, Andrea, but we have to remind our citizens that this is not a time of panic. I mean, if we stopped everything every time there was a mysterious and grizzly attack in Lima, the town would never get anything done!"_

Jesse picked up the remote and switched it off, knitting his brows at the ads for apartments to rent. Before the summer had started, he'd taken a job as Beth's full-time nanny. Since Shelby's new job at the local high school had given her summers off, they'd spent most of their days taking care of Beth together and practising witchcraft in the evenings when Beth had gone to bed. Jesse soon realized it was a perfect job. The pay wasn't great, but he didn't mind. He got to spend his time with Beth and Shelby at the local pool, the ice-cream parlour and shopping at Pottery Barn - nothing he ever imagined enjoying.

And time spent with Shelby was never time wasted, even when they weren't practising the craft. A lot of times they watched terrible TV movies and spilled wine together after Beth had begun snoring in her crib. It was almost like the days when he was her show choir prodigy and they were having a secret affair. Except this didn't feel irresistibly wicked. It felt nice. Probably because the most touching they'd done was hand-holding during chants.

The only real problem with the job was the fact that his parents were constantly bothering him about it. They wanted him to get a real job or go back to college, though he argued that at least he was doing something. Embarrassed that their son was a nanny, they told their friends that Jesse was doing research for a role. As if he'd get any acting gigs in Lima.

He circled an apartment in red Sharpie. He had to get out of his parents house, and he wanted to stay close to Shelby and Beth. Sometimes he felt like there was nothing for him in Lima, but he had them, and they seemed to be enough.

"We're gonna head now," said Puck, walking into the kitchen from the back hallway.

Jesse looked up as the two high school seniors strolled in, blithe smiles on their faces after putting their biological daughter to bed that night. Right now, Jesse figured that the two of them looked like the last people you wanted to raise a child together, but Puck and Quinn were slowly becoming better parents as they spent more bonding time with their daughter.

Jesse remembered a time when Quinn had been racked with regret and anxiety. Clearly she had traded in her mental anguish for more of a fashion-themed tragedy. Jesse couldn't fathom why she let pink hair, nose-ring studs and chain-mail into her life, but he wasn't going to complain after seeing how happy his friend was.

He walked them out just as Shelby's Subaru pulled up down in the parking lot and she got out with a briefcase and a plastic takeout bag in her hand. She passed Quinn and Puck with a nod and a smile and walked up and met Jesse at the door.

"Is Beth asleep?" she asked, walking inside and dropping the stuff on the island counter.

"Quinn and Puck just put her to bed."

Shelby smiled sadly and walked down the hall to Beth's nursery, with Jesse following her. It was like any little girl's nursery, with peach-colored walls and a pink, plush cot. Stuffed animals and curve-cornered building blocks cluttered the carpet. The only thing out of place were the lace sachets of ash tree bark and sunflower petals hanging from the curtains and the curly ancient runes painted on the walls in purple. Anyone could mistake them for pot pourri and eclectic decor, but they were really there to summon protection over Beth.

Shelby leaned against the rail of the crib and smiled down at her daughter, whose pacifier was hanging precariously out of her pink open lips. Shelby plucked the pacifier gently out of her mouth and set it down on the changing table.

"I wish I could've been home earlier. There's a lot of stuff that needs to be done, because the school year just started, but it won't be this hectic later on, I promise," she said quietly.

"Doesn't bother me," shrugged Jesse, "Beth's easy to take care of. And Quinn and Puck are always here when they can be."

Shelby smiled. "I'm glad they could be here for her. No kid can have too many parents."

Jesse nodded, knowing that parental figures had always been absent from Shelby's life. His own parents weren't so loving but at least they took care of his most basic needs. Shelby basically raised herself.

"I got take-out for two. Chinese," she said over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling.

"Sounds great," he smiled, glad he could spend another night with her.

xxx

"Why do I have to be bait? I'm always bait. Let Tina be bait."

Quinn stopped to look back at her girlfriend as the scoobies trudged into the Lima Cemetery after nightfall and gave her an amused sigh.

"Vampires have a type," Quinn shrugged, her leather jacket taut against her shoulders.

"Do I _look _like a damsel in distress to you?!" Rachel exclaimed, splaying her hands out in front of her silk mini-dress, "I'm wearing flats suitable for quick getaways and a rape whistle around my neck! Clearly I'm a girl who prepares for the unexpected."

"The one thing I've gathered about vampires," Kurt said without looking back as they walked further into the graveyard, bits of grass clinging to his cavalry boots, "They don't tend to focus on details. They pick up your cute little girl vibe and your extremely human scent and they see lunch."

"Tina has a human scent," Rachel pouted.

"Actually, I've been spending a lot of time inspecting Gorathnak demon horns after school, so I probably smell a little like their venom," Tina replied.

"Tina, what are you doing with demon venom?" Kurt asked warily.

"Their bone marrow actually has a lot of healing properties," Blaine answered for her, "Actually, Tina, could I come over and take a look at those sometime?"

"Can we just get this over with?" asked Mike.

"Okay, I think this is a good spot," said Quinn, finding an open patch of land between a mausoleum and an old oak tree. She turned, her eyes scanning her friends. "Weapons?"

All of them, except Rachel, lifted a stake from their jackets, and Tina brandished an extra crossbow.

"Let's do this," she nodded to them.

They parted ways, heading for hiding spots in different directions behind headstones, vegetation and stone tombs, except for Rachel who stood awkwardly in the clearing.

"Wait! What's the plan?!" she called to Quinn.

Quinn turned around, her short pink spikes swaying around her neck. "The vampire attacks you."

"And then what?!"

"We attack _him_."

"Quinn, I don't like this."

"Rachel, it's me. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know but-"

Mike irritably hopped up from his spot behind an angel statue. "Guys! We don't have time for this!" he waved his hands.

"Yeah, places people!" Kurt called from behind the mausoleum.

"Quinn, go hide. Rachel, be bait!" said Mike.

"Why don't _you _be bait, Mike?!" Rachel snapped angrily at him, "You come face to face with a creature of the night and be as stoic as always."

"Guys," Tina sighed.

"_I'm _not the damsel in distress, remember?" 

"Well, neither am I!"

Kurt rolled his eyes behind the mausoleum at his friends' bickering. At this rate, they were going to get themselves killed. He was about to call out for them to shut up and take their places, when he felt a presence.

"Guys..." he warned, leaning around the corner of the mausoleum, his voice shaky. A twig snapped and he whipped his head around behind him. "Guys!"

A thick-shouldered vampire grabbed Kurt by the throat and lifted him from the ground until the toes of his boots were inches from the grass. Blaine sprinted forward, practically bounding a few feet at a time, and tackled the vamp. He let go of Kurt, who fell gasping to the ground, and stumbled backwards, but didn't fall.

Quinn shot into action and threw a fireball at him, just barely grazing him and singeing the collar of his shirt. He swatted at the smoke and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Quinn!" Rachel shrieked as the vampire bounded towards her girlfriend.

Quinn backed up a few feet as the vampire ran toward her and gathered a bounty of fire into her hands from within. She threw her hands out and engulfed the vampire in flames. He screamed and writhed, completely enveloped, until he burst into a large clump of ashes, smoke and dust blowing away with the curl of the breeze.

The scoobies looked at each other, breathless.

"Nice work," Mike frowned at Rachel, whose eyes bugged out wide.

"_Me_?!"

xxx

Buffy gathered her hair into a ponytail and tied it quickly, rushing into Laszlo's and right up to the barista, where Dwayne, a co-worker closer to her age, was pumping caramel syrup into a macchiato and Fred was picking up her slack.

"Sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed, a loose lock of hair falling over her face.

She'd had strange nightmares all night about a man with a mask she somehow just knew was that creepy Jeremiah guy from the night before. She'd had a strange feeling about him from the moment she bumped into him. New York was a strange place for a kid, indeed, and the nightmares had made her sleep in late.

"Great, you're here," Fred said gruffly, shoving a plate of macaroons in her hand, "You know, I count on my servers to actually make it to their shifts. I have kids who need college tuition and I can't give them that with a failed cafe."

"I'm sorry, traffic was crazy," she lied, "Isn't Lily around?"

"Lily didn't show up."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know, you said traffic was crazy. Maybe she's having trouble getting down. Listen, take the coffee bar with Dwayne, we got a lot of orders and not enough hands."

Buffy frowned, wondering where Lily could be as she slid behind the counter and started making soy lattes. Didn't she say she was staying at a hostel in Manhattan? Why would she have trouble getting down to the cafe? Buffy bit her lip as she remembered Lily telling her about a party last night. Three dollars to get into some guy's basement. It sounded pretty skeevy, but maybe Lily managed to rustle up three bucks and now she's hungover. Lily did sound flaky enough to spend her last three dollars on some lame party.

But wasn't she saving up for a place nearby? Would she really be _that _reckless? Buffy didn't know her well enough to make a good judgement, but Lily _was _that kind of girl to join a vampire-worshipping cult on a whim. Buffy paused as she gathered foam into a coffee mug, remembering the texts Lily had sent her last night, wondering if she was okay after getting hit by that truck. Buffy hadn't texted back, but Lily had told her that she'd see her tomorrow at work. Why would she say that if she planned on getting wasted at some basement party?

Buffy tried to tell herself that Lily was a grown-up who could take care of herself, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something more was going on.

"Hey, A, watch your cup!"

Buffy looked up at Dwayne and quickly back down at her hands as the foam overflowed onto her fingers.

"Crap!" she hissed, jumping back from the frothing machine and spilling creamy foam on the floor, "Sorry."

"No big," sighed Dwayne, taking a dish rag and mopping up the foam, his dreadlocks falling over his shoulders.

"Hey, Dwayne?"

"Yeah?"

"Yesterday, did Lily mention a party?"

"A party? Uh, I don't remember."

"She said something like, three dollars to get into some guy's basement-"

"Reefer!"

"Huh?" 

"Yeah, Reefer had a rave downtown in this abandoned underground place that used to be like an opium den or something. Invited, like, everyone he knows. He kinda gets around."

"Is Reefer a friend of yours?" 

"Man, Reefer's a friend of everybody's. He's a DJ, part of why his party's are so awesome."

"Did you go?"

"Nah, I had to be up for first shift."

"Oh, well, Lily mentioned going and if she did, that's probably why she didn't come in today."

"Makes sense."

"It's just... well, I want to make sure she actually went 'cause if she didn't... she might be in trouble."

Dwayne bit his bottom lip. "I could give you the address."

Buffy opened her mouth, unsure if she should follow through with this. What was she doing? Staking Lily out? Doing detective work just to find out if a girl who was barely even her friend was just a hungover flake? Was she _trying _to find danger in mundane places, or was it really there? She decided not to take the chance.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

xxx

Joyce Summers was surprised to find that life went on after her daughter disappeared. It was almost surreal to do the dishes, shop for groceries and pay the bills all the while not knowing where Buffy was, but she knew her daughter's capabilities. She tried to remind herself daily that Buffy was resourceful and brave, and wherever she was, she could take care of herself. It didn't change the fact that the silence in her house was haunting and the guilt crushed her like a vice.

Joyce scrawled a grocery list into her journal, her reading glasses slipping down her nose. She jotted down 'canned peaches' and then quickly scribbled it out when she realized that Buffy was the one who liked them. Her stomach turned and she wished Buffy was there now at the dinner table, reminding her that she'd run out of Raspberry Rain shaving cream.

The doorbell rang and her head snapped up. She discarded her journal and rushed to the door. Her hope deflated when she saw it was Mr. Schuester.

"Mr. Schuester," she greeted, trying not to sound too disappointed, "Hello."

"Hi," he said tentatively, "May I-"

"Of course, come in." She opened the door for him and he stepped inside, taking off his plaid golf cap and holding it awkwardly in one hand.

"I just got back from Fort Worth," he said as she led him into the living room, "A friend of mine called with a lead. Someone fighting vampires..."

Joyce raised an eyebrow, hopeful.

"It didn't pan out," Will said quickly.

"Oh. No Buffy?" Joyce asked quietly.

"No vampires. Bunch of high school kids in eyeliner listening to A Day To Remember."

Joyce pursed her lips. "Well, thank you for looking. I can barely leave the house. I keep thinking she'll call or... she'll need help."

"Buffy's the most capable person I've ever met. She might be confused, or unhappy, but I think she's safe, wherever she is."

"I just wish I could talk to her. The last thing I said to her..." Joyce squeezed her eyelids shut like she could hardly think about it. 'If you leave, don't even think about coming back'. She was the worst mother in the world.

"Joyce, this isn't your fault," Will said softly.

Joyce looked up at Will and narrowed her eyes, her jaw squared. "I know. It's yours."

Will's face fell as Joyce balled her fists, furious. "You've been this huge influence in her life, do you realize that? You've had this whole relationship that... It's like you've taken her away from me."

Will looked at the floor and considered this. "I didn't make Buffy who she is."

"And who exactly is she?"

He opened his mouth, unsure how to respond. Maybe Buffy was right. Maybe her mother wouldn't understand.

xxx

Kurt got to bed late that night, restlessly fighting images of vampire attacks out of his mind before he drifted completely to sleep. The breeze floating in from his open bedroom window had a calming effect on him and he was glad to be home again, instead of in the dorm rooms of Dalton Academy. Still, now that he was back at McKinley and he and Blaine were officially Scooby Gang members, it was getting more difficult to banish demons and vampires from his mind during the non-graveyard hours.

The further he drifted into sleep, the more vivid his dreams became, of gnashing fangs and spilled blood. Suddenly, the dreams ceased and he was surrounded by white and in front of him, was his mother.

"Nothing can hurt you here," she said, a smile on her lips. Her blond hair reached her shoulders and the long white dress she wore touched the ground.

"Where am I?" Kurt asked. He felt solid and corporeal, like he wasn't in a dream, but his voice echoed, ethereal. "What is this?"

His mother idly touched her collarbone, and the looked at a silver necklace with a thin, spiraling 'S' dangling from the chain that was hanging from Kurt's necklace. She reached over and lightly touched the necklace.

"You don't need this," she said. She turned her head behind her at the sound of bombs dropping in the distance, "I have to go."

"Wait. Stay."

"Be brave, Kid," she smiled, sadness in her eyes, "I need you."

"Wait!" Kurt called as his mother disappeared into darkness.

Kurt blinked his eyes open and let them adjust to the darkness in his bedroom, with only the moon glowing over his bedspread. He sat up, a cold sweat on his forehead, and switched on his bedside lamp. '02:00' glowed red on his alarm clock. He shook at the thought of the dream he just awoke from. He couldn't decide if it was really a dream, or a vision. Either way, it felt too real, and the smell of his mother's perfume still lingered in his nostrils.

xxx

"Mr. Schuester's back."

Mike folded his open locker door an inch inward to find Tina behind it, smiling up at him, her shoulders raised.

"Okay..." he replied, shoving his AP Calculus textbook into his backpack, while their schoolmates breezed past, chatting with each other and drinking from the water fountains before class started.

"So, patrol tonight?"

Mike eyed the students on their way to next period, oblivious to their conversation despite his paranoia.

"I don't think so," he replied tersely.

"What?" Tina's face dropped. "Why not?"

"Tina, we could have gotten killed last night."

Tina frowned. "Only because you and Rachel were fighting."

"Well, when six teenagers spend every night together all summer, they start to fight. It's natural."

"Sure, but it wouldn't be a problem if you'd just save it until we _weren't _in a cemetery fighting vampires."

"Shh!" Mike snapped, "Listen, maybe we shouldn't be fighting vampires in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this is not our responsibility."

Tina wrinkled her brow up at her boyfriend. "Sure it is. We know the danger's out there. We have to do something to stop it."

"We're only doing this because Buffy skipped town and left us for dead. That doesn't leave the safety of the town in our hands. We're just kids."

"Well, so is Buffy. I don't see what that-"

"Tina, do you know how much we've given up this summer? I had a summer program at Princeton that would have helped me get into an Ivy school in the country and I had to turn it down to protect Lima. Rachel sees a Broadway show every year in New York with her dads and this year, she couldn't go because she was being vampire bait. Quinn could have been spending time with her daughter, but no. She's using her hands as flamethrowers to kill demon spawn. We had to give up our lives for this, and for what?"

"For what?" Tina raised her eyebrows, her face getting red, "Doesn't it mean anything to you that we've saved people's lives this summer? We're doing a good thing, Mike."

"And saying goodbye to our lives in the meantime. Tina, I don't want to be stuck living on the Hellmouth for the rest of my life, but that's the path we're on. Don't you see that?"

She pursed her lips. "Yeah, I do see that. And I know that I wouldn't mind living on the Hellmouth for the rest of my life if it meant that I was saving people and discovering the secrets of the universe."

Mike gaped down at her. He hadn't expected that reply. "Tina, you can't be serious."

"I am serious."

"You don't ever want to get out of Lima? To go to Harvard and do something meaningful with your life?"

"How is this not meaningful? I'm protecting my hometown from the forces of evil and exploring a world that no-one else even knows exists!"

The shrill bell rang out in the hallway and the people around them picked up their pace to rush to class. Tina paused until the bell stopped ringing and all they could hear was the pitter patter of footsteps emptying the hall.

She looked up at her boyfriend in the following silence. "This is what I want to do with my life, Mike."

Mike grimaced. "Risk your life every night? Fill in for the slayer when she can't be bothered? Know more about demonology than about current events or-"

"Yes!" Tina snapped, her mouth a thin line, "I want to be a watcher."

Mike opened his mouth in surprise but didn't say anything, his nose wrinkling.

Tina shrugged, the crease in her forehead disappearing, feeling guilty that she never told him before now. She had been waiting until he warmed up to the supernatural, but clearly that was never going to happen.

"Don't you ever wonder why I spend so much time and energy studying the occult? Why I'm so... stake-happy?"

Mike almost smirked, but it quickly disappeared. "You want to do this... for the rest of your life?"

Tina nodded. "I do."

"Well, Tina... You're making a mistake."

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. You can't spend your life like that. And neither can I."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can't grow old with you, sitting around here in Lima, afraid that you won't be coming home at night because you could have been killed by a demon. I won't do that, Tina."

Tina frowned solemnly. "I've already been accepted to the Watcher's Academy."

Mike blinked. "What?!"

"I applied a month ago. Explained how I knew Buffy, and Mr. Schuester, and Mrs. Schuester. How my mother knew Mrs. Hummel. I talked about how much I already know and how much I've already experienced... They were impressed. So they accepted me."

"The Watcher's Council?" Mike said, below his breath, "In England..."

Tina sighed. Getting accepted to the academy had felt like such a victory at the time. This was supposed to be happu news. "I know you don't like the idea of being around this kind of stuff for the rest of your life, Mike, but-"

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. "I wish you would have told me."

"I know-"

"I don't think you do. Tina, it's like you think this stuff if more important than I am."

"Mike-"

"Which really sucks, because I love you more than anything in the world. More than this town and all of the lives in it."

"Mike, don't say-"

"It's true. I would die for you. But I will not sit here and watch you sacrifice your whole life for this cause of yours. I can't. I'm out."

Mike slammed his locker door shut and slung his backpack over his shoulder, turning to storm off.

"Mike, wait! You're out? Out of what?! Out of the Scooby Gang?"

Mike turned, a pained look on his face. "Out of this relationship."

xxx

Buffy walked up to a dingy building in Brooklyn with graffiti covering the door. She looked back at Angel, who was following closely, his dark figure daunting in the pale blue after sunset. The building looked like an abandoned out of business lounge, with moth-bitten red velvet curtains over the windows, sandwiched between a greasy deli and what looked like a meeting place for alcoholics anonymous. Buffy was surprised to find the door was not only not boarded up, but unlocked. She let herself inside and Angel followed, both of them taking in the sight of the empty marble bar and the dusty tile floor.

"Hello?" Buffy called, feeling like an idiot in a horror movie, "Reefer?"

"This doesn't look like the kind of place your friend should be hanging out," said Angel.

"She's not my friend. She's just... I have a bad feeling, alright?"

A door in the corner creaked and both Buffy and Angel's head snapped to it, narrowing their eyes at the dark figure who appeared in the doorway. The light in the small abandoned lounge flipped on, and a young guy with sunglasses and electric blue hair peered at them, confused.

"Are you Reefer?" asked Buffy. 

"Uh, yeah..." said the blue-haired guy, "You guys know the party's over, right? What, did you forget something?"

"Um, no," Buffy walked over to him, past the wide booth of leather seats and extended her hand, "I'm looking for a friend."

Reefer tentatively took her hand and squeezed lightly. "Well, nobody's here anymore, except for me and Blade. He's passed out on the turntables but I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any friends-"

"No, I'm looking for my friend Lily. Uh, she knew about your party last night and I'm not sure if she showed up, but if she didn't, it might mean that she's missing. Um, I don't know if Lily's her real name, but she has long blond hair, really pale-"

"Oh yeah yeah yeah, no, I know Lily. Real willowy wallflower kind of girl. Looks like she's interested in getting lost."

"Did you see her last night?"

"Uh..." Reefer raised his eyes to the ceiling and his sunglasses slipped down his nose, "No, can't say I did, but last night was pretty crazy. I could've missed her."

"You don't happen to have Lily's address or... her last name?"

"Mm-mm," he shook his head, "But, hey, I'll keep an eye out for her."

Buffy nodded curtly and turned back to Angel, nodding her head to the front door. They went back into the dark street, cars honking on their way past.

"Well, that was a bust," Buffy sulked, "Thanks for going with me. You never know what you're going to bump into in an abandoned opium den."

"Opium den?"

"Well, that's the word on the street," Buffy shrugged as they turned the corner into an alleyway, taking a shortcut to the nearest subway station.

"Looked more like a run-down strip club to me."

"Oh, ew. You think?" she asked, just before tripping over something heavy and stumbling to the ground. Before her work clothes could get stained by a dirty puddle, Angel caught her by her shoulders and steadied her back onto her feet.

"Thanks," she said, embarrassed, "So much for my slayer agility."

She looked down, behind her, at what she had tripped on and saw a thin leg. Her eyes wide, she followed the legs up to the unconscious body lying in the gutter. It was an old woman with long, pale gray hair and a gray shift dress hanging off of her thin, frail body. Buffy grimaced and stood over her, staring at the woman's open eyes.

"She's dead," said Angel, who had bent down to take her pulse.

Buffy stared at her wide, blue doe eyes.

"Buffy?" Angel prompted.

Buffy blinked, starting to feel like she was going crazy. "Lily?"

xxx

Shelby unlocked her apartment door and shoved it open with her shoulder, a bucket of KFC drumsticks in one arm and her briefcase and loose notebook pages in the other. She kicked the door closed behind her and immediately caught the scent of fried herbs in the air. She left her stuff, including the fast food, on the coffee table in the hallway and followed the scent to the kitchen.

Jesse had the sleeves of his gray button-down shirt rolled up and a dish towel thrown over his shoulder as he fried mushrooms and onions on the stove, sprinkling something green over the pan. He turned to pick up a small jar of garlic powder and caught sight of Shelby in the archway to the kitchen.

He smiled wide. "I'm making dinner."

"I can see that," she grinned.

"I thought it'd be a nice break from takeout."

"I never did learn to cook. That's very thoughtful, Jesse. Is Beth asleep?"

"Like a log," he said, leaning on the island counter and pouring two glasses of red wine.

"I'm glad I have you around, Jesse," she said, leaning against the counter with him and fingering The Daily Lima that sat on the marble surface with red pen circling apartments to rent, "You're looking for an apartment?"

"I thought it'd be easier to have one nearby instead of getting here from my parents house every day," he said, handing her a stemless wine goblet, "Besides, it's time for me to be independant from my family. I'd like to be closer to you and Beth."

Shelby raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad Beth and I have you."

"Really?"

"Of course. It definitely makes my life easier, and Beth loves you. And I... I definitely missed being your mentor. You're a wonderful student."

Jesse took a sip of wine and looked down into his glass. "You're a wonderful teacher."

"Listen, Jesse, I hope I'm not being too demanding of your time."

Jesse looked up, surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"You're here all day. You're even here on weekends. I feel like I'm robbing you of a social life."

"Shelby, I'm here because I want to be. I want to spend my time with Beth. I want to spend my time with _you_. Learning from you... Talking to you."

Shelby looked up at him, cautious. "Jesse..."

"Shelby, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be," he said, taking her hand, "I missed you last year. I know you probably won't like to admit it, but you missed me too, right?"

Shelby pursed her lips. "Yes, but-"

"Look, maybe I'm overstepping my bounds here but... I don't care."

Jesse quickly leaned in and kissed Shelby on the mouth, his hands falling over her shoulders, pulling her in. She closed her eyes and slid her arms around his waist, feeling his taut back muscles, before her eyes snapped open and she pulled back, pushing him away.

"That was a mistake," she said quickly, her lips still moist.

"Shelby-"

"Jesse, I'm not going back to that again. I'm a mother now-"

"And you said so yourself that Beth loves me. Having me around more would be a good thing and... Shelby, we work together."

"No, we don't. Jesse, our relationship was wrong. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."

"You didn't. You know that I love you."

"Yes... but I don't love you. I'm sorry, Jesse, but if we are going to be around each other, we can't fall back on bad habits."

Jesse pursed his lips, still feeling her lipstick on him. "Then maybe we shouldn't be around each other," he said, almost sulking with disappointment.

"Jesse-"

"I'm sorry, Shelby, but I think I've been under the impression that there's something for me here in Lima. Something for me to stay for. But now I'm thinking there's not."

Shelby's mouth hung open, at a loss for words. "What are you trying to stay?"

"I'm going to leave Lima, unless you can give me a reason not to."

Shelby pursed her lips and folded her arms. "I can't do that."

Jesse sighed, his eyes falling to the floor. "I can stay until you find a new nanny."

"That won't be necessary."

Jesse bit his lip, then quickly stopped and smoothed his hand over his hair. "Good. I'll leave, then." For a moment he thought he'd go to the nursery to see Beth one last time, but he decided against it, hating goodbyes.

Shelby didn't move as he brushed past her, as dark smoke billowed from the abandoned frying pan.

**a/n: So, a lot of conflict in this chapter. Tell me what you think of how everything's developing and what you think's gonna happen next. Thanks for reading!**


	76. The Dream

**Chapter 73**

**The Dream**

"Settle down, guys, take a seat."

Mr. Schuester looked like he hadn't slept much last night, his face unshaven and his eyes sunken. Everything about him seemed to wilt, like a heavy weight was pressing down on him and he could barely muster up the energy to write down a lesson plan. His tired eyes scanned his glee club students, sitting down at the tiered seats of the choir room. He only counted up to eight.

"Where are Mike and Tina?"

The others shrugged, knitting their brow and wondering the same thing.

"Do you want one of us to go look for her?" Kurt offered.

Will sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "No, we have to get on with the meeting. We have some stuff to talk about. First thing-"

As if on cue, Finn Hudson awkwardly walked through the door in baggy jeans and his letterman jacket, a sheepish look on his face. Quinn gave a small, warm smile, beckoning him to come sit.

"Sorry I'm late," he muttered to Mr. Schuester.

Will mustered up a welcoming smile. "You didn't miss anything, Finn. I was just about to tell everybody that you've decided to rejoin glee club. We're glad to have you back."

Finn nodded, smiled curtly and took a seat beside Quinn in the front row, Puck clapping him on the back from the seat behind him. Kurt and Blaine smiled dutifully at him and when he glanced at Rachel on the other side of Quinn, even she had her lips politely pursed and nodded at him as if to say hello again.

Everyone's eyes moved to the doorway as the click-clack of high heels sounded down the hallway and a girl with a crooked nose and light brown hair that none of them recognized walked in carrying a Juicy Couture handbag, a pair of dark oval sunglasses, a furry-hooded jacket and a hint of a smile on her pink frosted lips.

She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, glanced at Mr. Schuester and said, "So did you introduce me yet?"

The others gaped at her and Will uncomfortably cleared his throat. "Um, no, not yet, Sugar."

Sugar rolled her hazel eyes, her false lashes fluttering and shoved her sunglasses into her handbag. "Well, there goes my grand entrance. I'm Sugar Motta."

They continued to look at her, perplexed. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, but she walked with the gait of a middle-aged Beverly Hills housewife.

"Um, Sugar's our new member," Will explained, his head ducked.

"I saw your performance of Roar at the back-to-school assembly," she said, her voice feathery and nasal, "It was so uninspired."

Rachel's mouth fell open and her brow furrowed. "Excuse me?" was all she could manage to say. She'd fought for them to perform Roar at the assembly, opposed to Kurt's suggestion of Lady Gaga's Applause.

"I mean, I like Top 40 pop as much as the next person, but you guys just can't pull it off," Sugar said earnestly, shrugging her shoulders, "I figured that it was my civic duty to join your little club."

Kurt looked at her, incredulous. "So you're joining us out of pity?" he scoffed.

"Yes," Sugar said matter-of-factly.

Will grimaced. "Well, Sugar, how about you take a seat-"

"Or you can show us what you got," Mercedes suggested, leaning forward in her chair from the back seat and frowning down at Sugar.

Kurt smiled at Mercedes, while Rachel squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

Will paled. "That won't be necessary-"

"I think it's a great idea," Blaine smiled, oblivious, "A chance for Sugar to display her talents."

"I don't mind," Sugar shrugged confidently, tossing her handbag at one of the legs of the grand piano and tussling Brad's hair, "Big Spender, G-sharp. Hit it, sweet stuff."

The glee clubbers watched, bemused, as Sugar Motta continued to perform the most disastrous, off-key performance of Big Spender - or of anything - they'd ever seen. Sam had to hold his hand in front of his mouth to keep from laughing. Will shrank beside the piano, embarrassed for his new student. Rachel's uneasiness passed and she smiled to herself.

Sugar quit singing and looked to her schoolmates, a smug smile on her face. "Awesome, right?"

After the meeting had ended and the glee clubbers dispersed, Rachel strode away after Mr. Schuester, Quinn reluctantly following.

"You can't possibly be serious about Sugar Motta. She has no place being in show choir. She's going to turn glee club into a joke."

Will rolled his eyes. "It's not like I'm going to give her any solos."

Rachel glowered as she followed him to his office. "We're going to have to waste time waiting for her to catch up on all the routines. This is torture. We're never going to make it to Nationals with her dragging us down! We're only as strong as our weakest link."

"Rachel, please, she's not a bad dancer, okay? We can assign her to her strengths."

"She's spoiled and rude! How are you supposed to manage glee club with such an intolerable diva?"

"I think I've managed pretty well so far."

Rachel glared at him, her cheeks flushing. "Why are you fighting so hard for her to be in glee club?"

Will sighed and took a seat behind his desk as Rachel and Quinn awaited his response. "Her father offered to pay our entire year's budget if we let her in the club."

Rachel's mouth hung open. "You were _bribed_?!" she asked, scandalized.

"Rachel, you have no idea how much money goes into glee club. If we didn't have Mr. Motta's donation, we wouldn't make it to Nationals!"

"We're not _going_ to make it to Nationals with her on our team!"

"Rachel, please," Will raised a hand, exhausted, "This year is going to be hard enough on its own."

Rachel frowned, guilted. "No luck in Fort Worth?"

Will shook his head. "No. Could you do me a favor and go find Mike and Tina? Update them about glee club."

Rachel nodded, somber, and left the room with Quinn following. Will squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and wished he could sleep for a week, when a light knock came at his glass office door. He looked up to see Terri smiling sympathetically from the other side and he motioned for her to come in.

"How are you?" she asked tentatively, taking a seat across from him.

"Tired," he answered bluntly, "Having to think about glee club and classes and Buffy all at once..." And, of course, he was always thinking about Emma, but he didn't say that.

"I know, it's hard," Terri said softly, "How did it go with Buffy's mother?"

Will sighed. "She hates me. I don't blame her. This is all my fault."

Terri frowned. "How is this your fault?"

"All this time I've told Buffy that being a slayer is the most important thing in her life. It broke her. That's why she left town."

Terri stared hard at him. "Will... I couldn't tell you what was going through Buffy's mind when she left Lima because I don't know her all that well, but I can tell you that as long as I've known you, you've never done anything to hurt anyone. If anything, you made her life just a little bit better."

Will smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Any time."

xxx

Rachel pushed the girls' bathroom door ajar and heard the quiet breaths and whimpers coming from inside one of the stalls. The tell-tale signs of sobbing. She motioned for Quinn to follow her in and the two girls walked quietly into the bathroom. Quinn got down on her knees on the bathroom floor and peered under the stalls, spotting a pair of white vintage go-go boots.

"Tina?" she called.

The crying halted and Rachel went up to the stall door. "Tina, it's just me and Quinn. What's wrong?"

A sliding and a clicking sound came from the stall and Tina opened the door to reveal her tear-streaked face and mussed hair.

"Tina, what happened?" asked Rachel, horrified. Tina was always sensitive, but Rachel had never seen her cry like this.

Tina opened her mouth to speak but something caught in her throat and she started sobbing into her palms again. Rachel looked at Quinn, helpless. Quinn picked at her black-polished nails, uncomfortable, but she quickly wrapped an arm around Tina's waist and guided her to the sinks, letting her lean against them. Quinn grabbed a few scratchy eco-friendly hand-wipes from their holster mounted on the wall and put them in Tina's hand. She crumpled them up and wiped her eyes, her face red and blotchy. Rachel placed a hand on the girl's back and waited for her sobbing to turn into quick, short breaths.

"Will you tell us what happened?" she asked gently.

Tina sniffed, her face red. "Mike dumped me," she said, her voice thick with the struggle to stop crying.

Quinn and Rachel glanced at each other, their eyes wide in surprise. "What? Why?" asked Quinn, not quite believing it.

"B-Because..." Tina started to explain, but started blubbering again.

Rachel bit her lip and mouthed 'What do we do?' to Quinn as Tina buried her face in her hands. Quinn frowned and thought back to when her first ever boyfriend, Preston Casey, dumped her in the 6th grade. She'd been sobbing and ready to set something on fire. Santana, who'd never displayed any kind of sensitivity, even at twelve years old, took Quinn home after cheerleading practise, made her a cup of cocoa, let her spill her guts out about how much she hated and loved Preston, and then when the crying jag was finished, she treated her to dinner at a TGI Fridays and a stupid zombie movie at the Lima Theater. By the end of the day she'd forgotten old what's-his-name.

Quinn's stomach clenched painfully at the thought of her friend. She wasn't sure that treatment would work on Tina. For one thing, they weren't twelve anymore and for another, Preston Casey was no Mike Chang. Everyone was so sure that the first wedding for the class of 2014 would be Mike and Tina's. Quinn never realized it before, but part of her counted on them to be one couple who stayed together. They gave her hope.

"Let's skip the rest of school today, huh?" she said aloud.

The suggestion led to looks of horror from the two over-achievers.

"Hear me out," said Quinn, "This is obviously a serious emergency. The three of us need to drive back to Lima Heights, drink some Colombian coffee and talk about what happened."

Rachel grinned at Tina. "What do you say?"

Tina shrugged. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Quinn begged, "It's the second day of school. You're not gonna miss anything."

Quinn drove Tina's father's Volkswagen bus out of school without signing out, leaving Rachel and Tina fidgety and nervous that they were skipping school. They made it back to Lima Heights, where Sofia took one look at Tina's tear-streaked face and turned on the kettle to make homemade chai teas.

Tina brought up her feet and hugged her knees on the living room couch as _How I Met Your Mother _buzzed quietly on the TV screen.

"It sounds like you two just want two different things," Quinn frowned after Tina explained what had happened.

"Yeah," she sniffed bitterly as she clasped her mug of tea, "I want to be with him and he doesn't want to be with me."

"Oh, Tina, that's not true," Rachel shook her head, leaning forward on the armchair, "Mike loves you, anyone could see it."

Tina sniffed, more tears appearing in her eyes. "Then why doesn't he want to be with me?"

"He does want to be with you," said Quinn, "He just realized that the two of you want different things in life."

"He'll come around," Rachel smiled encouragingly, "Maybe you two can figure out a way to make it work."

"What if we can't? I want to be a watcher. I want to train a slayer and guard the Hellmouth. I don't want to follow Mike to Harvard like a puppy dog and be a doctor or a lawyer or a businesswoman. I don't want a house in a gated community and kids who go to private school, who don't know anything about the world around them. He does."

Quinn and Rachel looked at each other, their jaws set, fearful that she was right.

"But... you guys can't break up," Rachel said quietly, "Maybe Mike will change his mind."

Tina scoffed. "This is all Mike has ever wanted. The Ivy League school, the good wife and the white picket fence. I can't give him that. I don't _want _to give him that."

"Maybe you two are just too different," Quinn frowned.

"Or maybe Mike will come to his senses and realize that you are the best thing that's ever happened to him!" Rachel exclaimed, "After all you've been through, he can't just end it like this. He'll come back to you, I know he will."

Tina squirmed. "I wish I was that sure." Her face crumpled and she started to cry again.

"Oh, Tina," Rachel cooed and put her hand on Tina's shoulder.

"I'll get some Kleenex," said Quinn, standing up and walked out into the kitchen.

Her heart hurt for Tina but she was glad to be out of the room while the girl was sobbing. It made her uncomfortable.

"Shelby?"

She'd walked into the warm terracotta-tiled kitchen to find Shelby leaning against the island counter talking to Sofia, who was rocking Beth on her hip and cooing in Spanish.

"Oh, Quinn, I thought you were at school," Shelby frowned.

"We had an emergency."

"Hellmouth problems?"

"Boy problems, but close. What are you guys doing here?" she asked, sidling over to Beth and smiling, blowing up her cheeks for the baby to smack.

"Sofia and I have decided on an arrangement. I'm going to be dropping Beth off in the mornings with Sofia and I'll be picking her up at five. That way you'll have a nice hour after school to spend time with her and you won't have to drive to the apartment."

Quinn frowned, confused. "What about Jesse? He's not nannying anymore."

Shelby pursed her lips and picked at a loose thread in her dark purple cardigan. "Jesse isn't with us anymore."

Quinn smirked. "What does _that _mean?"

"He decided he needed to get on with his life. Out of Lima."

Quinn's smile faded. "Out of Lima? Where?"

"I don't know. All I know is that he's leaving soon."

"Why...?"

"I don't know the details, Quinn," Shelby shrugged, exhausted, "I just know if he does leave, he's probably not going to say goodbye."

xxx

Buffy let herself into the abandoned club after dark, when the city was illuminated by neon signs and taillights. She walked to the door in the corner that Reefer had come out of the night before and put her ear against the split pinewood. She couldn't hear anything on the other side, so cautiously, she opened the door and let herself in. The doorway led to a narrow cement staircase with faded graffiti on the walls and several phone numbers followed by x's and hearts written in Sharpie. At the bottom of the staircase was an open doorway that led into the expansive basement.

Buffy narrowed her eyes into the dark and trailed her hand along the wall, looking for a light switch. She turned a knob until it clicked and one dull light bulb turned on. It was enough to see to low-ceilinged space with a DJ booth, several tattered couches, a bar with a sticky surface and a bunch of empty bottles strewn on the ground. The air smelled thick and Buffy peeled her eyes for anything suspicious.

She was sure the body she and Angel had stumbled upon in the alley's was Lily's. The slight frame, the pale skin, the scraggly blond hair and the moon eyes were all identical to her co-worker's. Sure, she'd aged a good sixty years, but Buffy never expected to be able to explain everything on the first try. This was the work of something otherworldly, clearly, and it was no coincidence that Lily's dead body was dumped in the alley right around the corner from the place of the party she'd talked about a day earlier.

Buffy turned around, to the doorway. Under the phone mounted on the wall beside it was a tall metal table with crumpled pages set into a clipboard, two pens laying beside it. Buffy moved toward the papers and saw a bunch of names scrawled on it. _A guest list! _Buffy flipped through it and found two Lilys. Lily Pendanski and Lily Corgan. Buffy wrinkled her brow at it, wondering if either of them was her Lily.

Her eyes widened as she connected the name Corgan to the frontman of the Smashing Pumpkins. Lily had gotten her name from a Smashing Pumpkins song! Buffy was sure this was her, and she thought back to how Reefer had said he didn't know what Lily's last name was. He didn't even mention that there was a guest list. Buffy was sure that if something bad happened to Lily, Reefer was behind it.

Buffy squinted at Lily's name. Next to it in red pen, someone had written 'Candidate'.

"Candidate for what?" she wondered aloud.

"What are you doing?"

Buffy looked up to see Reefer standing at the end of the stairway, his sunglasses propped up onto his blue head of hair. Buffy locked her jaw, determined.

"Candidate for what?" she said again, addressing Reefer.

Reefer swallowed and looked at the guest list in Buffy's hands. "This is private property."

"Somehow I doubt that," Buffy frowned, "A bunch of these names have candidates beside them. I wonder if those kids are missing like Lily, too. I'm willing to bet they are."

Reefer looked caught. "You're gonna get yourself in trouble," he said, cautious rather than threatening.

Buffy put the guest list back down on the table, the back of her neck tingling. "I don't want trouble," she sighed, "All I wanted was to be alone and be quiet, with a fireplace, a cup of tea, maybe a book, I don't know. And instead, I get trouble. What are you doing to these kids?"

"I'm not doing anything! I just give names... I give him the names of the healthy ones. The ones who can go all night and are hardly hungover in the morning. Not the ones who are into heavy drugs... He doesn't want them to go through withdrawals-"

"Who is he?!" Buffy demanded.

Reefer pursed his lips. "The guy who owns the space next door."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "The deli?"

"No, the other side."

Buffy thought back to the dimly lit space beside the empty club. It had looked like a place where AA meetings were held, not a place where young adults were kidnapped and turned into senior citizens.

"Who owns the space next door?" asked Buffy.

"Look, they close up shop and leave by eleven every night. You're not gonna find anybody in there this late, I promise-"

"_Who _owns the space next door?!" Buffy demanded.

Reefer grimaced. "His name is Jeremiah."

xxx

Jesse flipped through the numbers on his iPhone, pausing at Shelby's. He hovered over the delete button but decided against it, turning it off and shoving it back into the pocket of his biker jacket. He looked up at the flight schedule on the flat screens above the check-in desk. He had a one way ticket to New York booked on the fly and his plane left in two hours. He had time to kill at the airport and he idly wondered if his wolfsbane would be taken from him at customs when he felt an itch all over his body. The usual feeling of when a fellow Wiccan was near.

He turned around, one hand clasping his carry-on bag, and spotted Quinn Fabray rushing into the airport, a heavy black jacket draped over her slender frame, her pink hair wild.

"Jesse!" she exclaimed when she spotted him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, slightly bemused as she ran toward him. He grunted as she tackled him with a tight hug. "Quinn, what are you doing?"

Quinn pulled back, her eyes narrowed angrily. "What are _you _doing? You're moving to New York without even saying goodbye? Without even _telling _me?"

Jesse shrugged. "I'm not one for goodbyes."

Quinn winced. "That is so lame, Jesse. After everything... you just leave?"

"I didn't think you'd be all choked up."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You can be such an ass sometimes."

"Quinn, come on," he sighed, "Look, this is hard for me. I've never been good at admitting that I care. I let myself believe that there was something between me and Shelby again, and I made a mistake."

"That's why you're leaving? Because Shelby's not into you?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "No, I'm leaving because... Because there's no reason for me not to leave. And before you get personally offended, yes, you're important to me. I care about you and I will miss you, but I have to get on with my life. I have to do something with myself."

"Why does it have to be in New York?"

Jesse smiled down at her. "I need to live in a place that shines as bright as I do."

Quinn rolled her eyes again, but broke out into a smile. "What am I supposed to do without you and your big head?"

Jesse shrugged. "You'll survive."

"And what about you? How are you going to afford living in New York?"

Jesse scrunched up his face. "My dad's rich, Quinn. I'm going to stay in a hotel until I find a place to live and eventually I'll become famous and will be able to support myself, my wife, my second wife and my four homes."

Quinn laughed. "You got it all figured out, huh?"

"Mm hm. Ones in Europe," Jesse smiled, "Promise me you'll keep practising magic. Shelby's a good mentor, you just have to prove to her that you're worth it."

"Keep in touch. I mean it. We've had a lot of ups and downs between the two of us, but you've seen me through a lot of changes. All my changes. I don't want us to forget about each other."

Jesse leaned and hugged Quinn with one arm, the other still clutching his bag. "We won't."

xxx

Kurt twisted and turned in his sleep, his sheets tangled around his legs. He felt restless and stuck half awake and halfway into a dream. He tried to imagine a meadow, a warm billowing breeze and the scent of lavender to lull him to sleep. He'd coddled himself into a dream, and once he was in it, he sighed. For once, there were no vampires or eerie warnings from his late mother. It was just him, in a field of white tulips that smelled like his pillow's fabric softener. A pale purple butterfly fluttered past against his skin. He wore a white pair of pants and a white v-neck sweater with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the jagged white scar that usually graced his arm had vanished.

He breathed in deep, glad to have a moment of peace. He walked idly through the meadow, until he spotted a slice of white off at the edge of the horizon. He turned from it, not giving it much thought, but after a moment he looked back at the white strip and wondered what it was. His dream suddenly started to feel more real. Not a fabric of his imagination but a real place he had been transported. He walked over to the fine slice of white and once he was close to it, it was about the size of his bedroom door, wider and taller than him.

Curious, he walked through and squinted in the white light that followed. The light faded and he was standing in the courtyard at McKinley. He blinked around at his school's campus. Some dream this was. Why would he dream about his school's dreary courtyard when he could be dreaming about his beautiful imaginary meadow? He spotted two girls sitting at one of the circular benches. They were huddled close, gossiping about something, eager smiles on their faces.

One, he realized, was his mother. Not somber and dressed in white like she usually was in his dreams, but looking like she did in his father's high school yearbooks. She wore a denim vest, a pair of acid-wash jeans and dark combat boots. Her blonde hair was full of thick curls. The girl next to her was Carole. Kurt blinked at his stepmother. She looked younger, and more beautiful, but she had the same crinkly smile and warm eyes.

"You're not supposed to be here yet."

Kurt whirled around. It was his dad. He looked younger too, as young as he did in high school, with a head of dark hair hidden under his baseball cap. He looked a lot like Finn, but shorter.

"What do you mean?" asked Kurt.

The girls couldn't hear them and if they could, they made no indication of it.

The young Burt shrugged. "You're not usually here yet. It's just us, back in the good old days," he smiled, not at all as perturbed as Kurt was, "Don't they look nice?"

Kurt glanced at his mother and stepmother. "Uh, yeah."

"They're getting along. I always knew they'd get along," Burt smiled to himself, staring warmly at the two girls as they laughed together.

Kurt smiled softly and looked from his father to the two women. He realized that this wasn't his dream. It was his father's. Somehow, he'd entered his father's dreams.

"Mom would be happy that you and Carole are together," said Kurt.

Burt smiled gratefully at his son. "I know."

Kurt looked around, spotting another slice of white light above the steps on the northern side of the courtyard. He figured he should leave his father to dream in private and walked up the steps and into the light. Before the light left his eyes so he could see what was on the other side, a cacophony of noises filled his ears. He heard feet stomping on metal, people cheering wildly, an unclear voice into a microphone and the screech of feedback through speakers. He let his eyes adjust and he was in the school's football field.

It was night and the too-large moon and glittering stars illuminated the whole field. People were going crazy on the bleachers, screaming, cheering and holding giant colorful signs with 'Finn Hudson Rules' in bubble writing and glitter. Kurt rolled his eyes. He just wanted to be back in his own dream. The moon cast a spotlight on his stepbrother in the middle of the field, who was being held up by his teammates after an apparent win. The scoreboard read '9000 to 0'. The cheerleaders, who were going nuts, wildly shaking their red and white pom poms, were mostly faceless, except for two.

Quinn and Rachel stood in front of the crowd of Cheerios wearing cheerleading skirts that were somehow shorter than the real ones, their massive boobs jiggling underneath their tops. Kurt grimaced. Finn had to have one active imagination to dream up a version of Rachel Berry that rocked double Ds. The big-boobed brunette bounced over to Finn as his teammates set him down on the ground and stuck her tongue in his mouth as Quinn cheered on, ecstatic.

_Okay, I've seen enough_, though Kurt, spotting the white door and sprinting towards it. He blinked against the light and woke up in his bed with a chill, the bed sheets having fallen off of him. He sat up, perplexed and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. He got out of bed and padded to his desk, lifting his laptop open and waiting impatiently for Google to load. _Dream travelling_, he typed into the search engine, knowing how stupid it sounded. A Wikipedia article on astral projection came up. He bit his bottom lip and clicked it.

His eyes scanned the blurb and stopped when he read 'result of, some forms of spiritual practice'. He wondered if practising his psychic abilities was making him gain more. He thought about his father's pleasant dream and his stepbrother's vomit-inducing one. He wondered, quite eagerly, if he could travel into Blaine's dreams or if he should stop altogether. It may be - it was definitely - an invasion of privacy. He'd already learned to control mind reading, not wanting to encroach on anyone's private thoughts. He wondered if this astral projection was just an extension of that.

He went back to bed with itching curiosity. He knew even thoughts could be deceiving. You could lie to yourself until the cows come home. But dreams were honest. In dreams, your purest desires came to light.

xxx

Reefer had been telling the truth last night about everyone clearing out of the building beside the club by eleven. She had broken in through the back window last night looking for that floppy-haired Jeremiah, but she'd come out with zilch. She'd found one locked door with a bolt around it, but she decided to wait another day to bust it open. She decided to head to the building when her shift ended at Laszlo's. She closed her hand around her order pad, itching for the clock to move a little faster. She left an order with Dwayne and walked to a table in the corner where a dark-haired guy had taken a seat.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked him impatiently, staring at her order pad with her pen ready.

"Light blended frappucino," he answered, "Two pumps of amaretto, decaf."

"'Kay, I'll be-"

"And a half slice of carrot cake, heated with one scoop of vanilla. If you don't have vanilla, whipped cream is fine, but not the canned kind-"

Buffy looked away from her order pad and down at the customer, her teeth gritted. She widened her eyes in surprise when she registered the dark curly hair and sparkling gray eyes of Jesse St. James.

"Jesse?"

Jesse looked up from the menu printed on marbled paper and gaped at Buffy. A smirk grew on his face. "I don't believe it. Buffy Summers-"

"Shh!" she winced, twisting around to make sure no-one had heard him.

"And you changed your name, of course. To what. Anne?" he raised a dark eyebrow at her nametag.

"What are you doing here?"

"I moved. Lima was cramping my style and I need to get started on my career in show business. But boy, you left a lot of damage back in Ohio, I'll tell you that."

Buffy squirmed. "...How is everyone?"

"Why don't you go back and find out?"

Buffy sighed. "It's not that simple."

Jesse frowned. He didn't know what had happened to Santana or how much it had affected Buffy, but he knew that in her wake, her watcher had fallen into a depression and her friends barely knew what to do with themselves. Quinn, though she was in a happiness coma after she and Rachel got together, could also be seen holding back tears and putting on a brave face when she decided to wear the armour that Santana had worn. She was the one who led the scoobies to protecting Lima in the slayer's absence.

"I have to get back to work," Buffy mumbled.

"Let me take you out somewhere when your shift's over," Jesse said before she could turn away. She looked dubious. "It's not a come on. I just think you should consider seeing your friends again. Your watcher... Your mother."

Buffy frowned down at her order pad. "Will you tell me how they've been?"

Jesse nodded. "I'll tell you everything."

Buffy considered, then shook her head. "I have to be somewhere after work."

"Where?" Jesse asked, skeptical.

Buffy sighed and leaned closer to the table. "A girl I knew went missing and I found her body last night, except... something had changed her. I think I have a lead on what happened and I have to check the place out."

Jesse smirked. "You can take the girl out of the Hellmouth..." he trailed off, "Let me go with you."

"No, I'll be okay. I'm staying with Angel, so-"

"So, forget Angel. I'll be your undercover guy. I have acting skills to spare."

"Jesse-"

"And not to mention years worth of experience using witchcraft."

Buffy pursed her lips. "I get off at three."


	77. The Prisoners

**a/n: I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter! Between college classes, work and family, it's been hard to churn out a chapter, but I had to set one up for you guys **_**now **_**because I plan on starting NaNoWriMo. Starting November 1st I'll be balancing work, school, family and trying to write 50,000 words of an original story by the end of the month. So who knows when I'll have the next chapter of The Other Hellmouth up. I just hope you don't lose interest, because I know I won't.**

**Thank you for reading and please please please tell me what you think and what you'd like to see happen.**

**Chapter 74**

**The Prisoners**

Jesse fidgeted in a mint-colored polyester chair in a windowless, dimly-lit waiting room, his fingers tapping against the pinewood arm rests. It was a building that the receptionist had called a counseling office, and when Jesse had given her a vague sob story of needing a place to stay and a purpose in life and someone to talk to, she fetched a boy named Jeremiah, who looked suspiciously young, with curly blond hair and sparkling eyes. This was the boy Buffy had told him about. As far as Jesse could tell, though, Jeremiah wasn't a warlock. At least that could be eliminated.

He didn't have to tell Jeremiah much before the boy led him into a waiting room with _People _magazines sprawled on a plastic coffee table, smiling vaguely all the while. Jeremiah told him to wait just a moment and Jesse leaned back in his seat, waiting patiently, until he realized he was supposed to be a nervous, troubled teen. So he started fidgeting. It felt right, and he tried not to let his chest swell with pride because he'd made such a good acting decision. He looked up, making his eyes wide with worry, as Jeremiah came back into the waiting room, carrying an armful of clothes.

"Thanks for waiting," Jeremiah smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, no problem," said Jesse, eyeing the clothes in Jeremiah's hands.

"After digging around, I think we found a place for you to stay tonight."

"Oh. Cool. Thanks."

"Yeah, all that we ask is that you let us treat you, first."

Jesse knitted his brow, his fingers squeezing the arm rests tighter. "Treat me how?"

"With simple, therapeutic meditation. We like to give our first time guests a kind of cleansing ceremony. This is the beginning of your new life. A life with purpose."

Jesse frowned. What was he getting himself into, just so that he could take the slayer out to dinner and convince her to go back to Lima? Was it really worth it?

"Um, okay…"

"Great. Just put this on."

Jeremiah outstretched his arm and handed Jesse what looked like a burlap hospital gown.

"What is this?" asked Jesse.

"Ceremonial robes."

Jesse frowned at the uncomfortable-looking gown. He really wasn't counting on wearing a dress.

"Well, you don't want to wear your own clothes for the cleansing. They'll get soaked."

Jesse nodded. "Right. And the cleansing is like some sort of baptism?"

Jeremiah smiled and shrugged. "Not quite the same."

xxx

"What's taking him so long?" Buffy asked herself, sitting on a stoop across the street from the counseling office that was squashed against the abandoned lounge where Reefer took note of candidates that poured in to his underground parties.

She'd wondered all day what kind of demon needed young, healthy people. Did he suck the life out of them and steal their youth, turning them into decrepit old people? Is that why Jeremiah looked so young but his eyes were so telling of ancient secrets? She had a bad feeling about him and she wouldn't be surprised if he made a habit of sinking his teeth into pretty young things. Buffy only feared that she made a mistake letting Jesse go undercover for her. What if she got him killed? She didn't want to feel responsible for another death. She decided that if she didn't get a text from him or see him in a window in the next ten minutes, she would go in after him.

10…

...9…

...8…

...7…

...6…

...She couldn't wait any longer.

She strode across the street and let herself in through the front door, into a small little hallway with a receptionist typing away at a computer desk. The receptionist, a plump woman with half-moon glasses, looked up and smiled, her eyes wary.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, isn't this, like, a therapist's office?"

"We have youth counseling services, yes."

"Great, because I happen to be in the need of some serious youth counseling."

"Oh, really?" The receptionist didn't look convinced.

"Yeah. You know, I just looked in the mirror one day and thought, 'Hey, what's with all the sin?' I need to change. With the… sex, and the envy… and the music we kids listen to nowadays…"

Buffy gulped, wishing she'd thought half as hard about her sob story as Jesse had. He'd made a detailed character backstory in his mind of a gay teen who ran away from his uber-religious parents who wanted to send him to a gay-away camp in Iowa, and with his extensive knowledge on off-Broadway productions, he could pull it off.

Buffy grinned sheepishly at the receptionist. "I suck at undercover. Where's Jeremiah?"

The receptionist frowned, and darted out of her seat, but not before Buffy could catch up to her and slam her head into the wall. Buffy winced at the loud thump, knowing she'd given the woman a concussion, but hopefully no permanent damage.

xxx

"Well, don't you look nice?"

Two brutish thugs had walked Jesse from his changing room to a room in the basement of the office building. Jesse wondered why a counselor's office would need bouncers, as his eyes were level with their shoulders, feeling like he was being brought to see a loan shark. They let him into the basement room where Jeremiah was waiting, smiling unnervingly next to a stone pool of dark water. The bouncers left, locking the door behind them, and Jesse shivered, feeling ridiculous with his lean legs poking out of a burlap gown.

"I guess," he winced, folding his arms over his chest.

Jeremiah tread his fingers over the surface of the murky pool. "We come here to wash away the past. Come, kneel with me. Let the water run over the sin, the pain, the uncertainity."

Jesse gritted his teeth and knelt next to Jeremiah. "It looks kind of dirty."

Jeremiah just smiled, staring into the pool. "Feel the water."

Jesse braced himself, and let his fingers run against the water like Jeremiah's did. It didn't feel grimy like he expected, but cool, like a clean lake. His arm glided in until the water was up to his elbow. He wondered how deep the pool was. The door was thrown open and Jesse shook, pulling his arm out of the pool and whipping his head around, still kneeling. It was Buffy, standing in the threshold, her hazel eyes darting from Jesse to Jeremiah to the pool and back to Jeremiah, the door splintered from her forceful kick.

Jeremiah stood, puffing out his chest. "This is a private moment, if you could just-"

"How do you make them old, Jerry? You feed on youth? What's the deal?"

Jesse frowned. "I was about to make a breakthrough!"

"What, in his pool of youth?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

Jesse looked down at his arm and tried to jump back from the pool, but he was yanked in by something beneath the water. Something pulled him in and he went head first, diving deeper and deeper, deeper than he thought the pool could go. Water filled his mouth and ears and nostrils and stung his eyes. His heart pounded, sure he was about to drown, when he hit concrete. The wind knocked out of him, it took him a moment to realize he was completely dry.

He rolled over and sat up, groaning, and looked up to see an identical pool latched onto the ceiling, the water suspended in midair. Soon after, Buffy and Jeremiah fell out of the pool together and hit the ground, hard, tumbling away from each other. Buffy got up on lightning fast reflexes, her eyes wild.

"Jesse! Are you okay?"

Jesse frowned around at the dark, stone chamber they seemed to be in. "No. No, I'm not okay. I'm wearing a dress."

"My face!" Jeremiah shouted, huddled on the ground, bent over with his back arched, clutching his head, "Ow, my face! Do you have any idea how long it took to glue that thing on?!"

He spun around, his face glistening and scarred, like lava spilling through cracks in a black, molten surface. Human flesh sat limply in his hand and he glared at Buffy, seething with rage.

"Guards!" he called.

Figures in clunky boots ran towards them from the shadows, their faces just as demonic and disgusting as Jeremiah's. Buffy scrambled towards Jesse and pulled him up by the arm.

"Come on!" she yelled, dragging him away from the guards, down a dark corridor, "There has to be another exit."

Their eyes widened at the sight of light coming from the end of the corridor. They stopped at the wide entrance, their jaws hanging open. It was an enormous open space, part factory, part prison camp. A Hell dimension. Young, human prisoners wore gray shifts as they hauled stones in rickety wheelbarrows, dust and grime staining their skin. Huge, concrete pillars ran up the walls and Buffy looked up, horrified, to see people hanging from them by chains. Left to die, for crimes unknown. Gutters run along the walls, molten metals running down them, and everything was covered with a thick layer of rock dust.

Jesse stared down at the workers, wearing the same demeaning outfit he had put on, only theirs were dirtier, and their faces were that of zombies. Demon guards patrolled the area, their bulky, military-style uniforms making them look like medieval Nazis. Jesse swallowed.

"What is this?" he asked Buffy, his voice shaky.

"Welcome to my world." Jeremiah stepped between them and gazed out at the area, a smile on his demonic face. "I hope you like it. You're never leaving."

xxx

Kurt fetched two glass tumblers from the kitchen cabinet, his homework sprawled on the surface of the breakfast table after night fall. Blaine was hunched over a Trig assignment, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth while he worked, as the ceiling lamp bathed in a warm yellow glow.

"I'm not looking forward to tonight," Kurt said and breathed through his nose, pouring cherry lemonade into both glasses and taking a seat at the table, handing one to his boyfriend.

Blaine sipped from the glass, both of them falling into a habit of pretending that they were drinking wine and doing their taxes every evening. "You could stay at my house."

Kurt pursed his lips, hovering above his glass. "I don't know…"

"I'm just saying, it's been fun playing house with you."

"And your parents wouldn't mind?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Well, my mom and dad are on a homecoming retreat for the OSU professors, so he wouldn't have to know."

"Well, _mine _would find out, and Burt _would_ mind. Besides, I need to practise self control."

Blaine sighed. "You practise self control twenty-four seven and you always slip up. Not that I blame you, I mean, I'm adorable-"

"I mean, controlling my clairvoyance."

"Oh," Blaine blushed, "You know, I don't mind if you see my dreams. I only dream about you. And chasing a full moon, but you're usually there."

Kurt smirked and flipped open a pad of graph paper. "That's flattering, but seriously, it's like every time I learn how to control one aspect of my powers, something new pops up. And these dreams… I mean, we need to find Finn a girlfriend, okay? You have to help me play matchmaker."

"I'll see what I can do. How does it happen, anyways? You don't have any way to stop it?"

"It's like, I see this door, and behind it is someone else's dream, but as much as I don't want to invade their privacy, it's like I can't stop myself. And Finn is giving me these weird looks. I think he's noticed that I'm in too many of his fantasies. Really, though, how long ago did Rachel break up with him? He says he's fine but I've never seen him so lost."

"You're really eager to play Cupid, huh?"

"If anyone's going to set Finn up with a new girl, it should be me."

xxx

Spots appeared in front of Buffy's eyes and she blinked hard, trying to adjust to the darkness. Her head ached hollowly and her skin felt slick with grime and sweat. She sat up, her butt against a concrete floor, and saw Jesse sitting beside her, his back against the high-rise wall.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Jesse looked over at her, surprised. "He hit you with his mallet… thing…"

Jesse's rattled gray eyes shifted around the room and Buffy followed his gaze to a much older man who was hugging his knees, his eyes wide with horror, against the other wall, and a decaying corpse in the corner. Buffy held her hand over her nose to mask the pungent smell of rotting flesh. Three of the walls were concrete blocks, black with soot, but the fourth was a wall of wrought-iron bars, like an old-time prison cell.

"Where are we?" Buffy asked, remembering Jeremiah's ugly face and the demonic labor camp they had stumbled upon. She was still wearing her own clothes, though they were now dark and dusty.

"Hell," Jesse replied, looking shaken.

"This… isn't Hell…" said Buffy, though she couldn't be entirely sure.

"Isn't it?"

She and Jesse looked up as Jeremiah swaggered over to the bars. His face looked cracked and un-human, but his voice was that of the oddly pleasant, unnervingly happy young man they had met before.

"What is Hell, but the total absence of hope? This is where you've been headed all your life. You've come from nothing, to become nothing."

Buffy glanced at Jesse, who was glaring up at Jeremiah. She hoped his innate narcissism would make him angry. She needed him angry.

"Just like Lily," said Jeremiah.

Buffy bit her bottom lip. Now she was angry. _Good_.

"She remembered your name long after she'd forgotten her own. But, after all those years…"

"Years?" Jesse raised a dark eyebrow.

"Time here moves more quickly than in your dimension. A hundred long years will pass here. On Earth, just a day."

"So you work us until we're too old, and spit us back out," Buffy said, grinding her teeth.

"You'll die of old age before anyone wonders where you went," Jeremiah smiled, "Not that anyone will. I know you, 'Anne'. So pathetic. So determined to run away from whatever it is you used to be. Well, you got your wish."

Buffy set her jaw and looked at Jesse, whose chin was raised in defiance. She knew what he was thinking. Jeremiah hit the nail on the head with Buffy, but Jesse St. James was an entitled WASP with a trust fund and two overbearing parents who wanted to hear from him weekly. Jeremiah was never going to get under his skin. Buffy wished he wasn't getting under hers.

As Jeremiah called for a guard to come get them and put them to work, Buffy winked at Jesse. The guard led them down to a dark room with old, iron machinery, and a large group of other lost-looking teenagers waiting, frightened.

"You work and you live," the demonic guard said to all of them, clutching a thick stone club, "You do not complain or laugh or talk or do anything besides work. Whatever you thought, whatever you were, does not matter. You are no-one now. You are nothing."

The guard walked invasively closely to a boy who couldn't have been much older than Buffy, with blond hair and a baby face. He shivered, terrified.

"Who are you?" asked the guard.

The boy shook and hesitated. "...Aaron."

The guard swung his club and smashed it over Aaron's head, knocking the boy to the ground. Buffy flinched and saw Jesse's hand move, but she pinched him before he could do any damage, as the guard moved on to the second prisoner.

"Who are you?" he asked a small girl with a wild mane of red hair.

The girl blinked back tears. "No-one."

The guard smiled, and moved to the next person. "Who are you?"

Buffy turned her head to Jesse. "We're gonna get out of here," she whispered.

"I know," he hissed back, his jaw locked, "How?"

"I'm a slayer. You're a warlock. We can figure this out. Just tell me… How are my friends?"

Jesse blinked at her like she was insane. "They're… fine."

"But, specifically."

"I mean, I don't know. They're pissed at you, for one thing."

"Jesse, come on, I'm looking for something that'll make me want to see them again."

Jesse nodded like he understood. "Rachel wants to go to New York for college next year. Big Broadway dreams and all that jazz. Quinn has emulated the Courtney Love look. She's going through the grunge phase a little late. The gay one came back to McKinley, and he brought his barber-shop boyfriend."

Buffy smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Your watcher is sad all the time. The Asians broke up."

Buffy gasped. "Tina and Mike broke up?!" 

"I don't think we have time to talk about this," Jesse frowned as the guard came closer.

Buffy bit down hard on her bottom lip. "I need to be there for them. I need to be their friend."

"Yes, good, which first means that we have to get out of here," Jesse said nervously.

"Yeah, I know…" Buffy trailed off as the guard stepped up to the boy on her other side.

"Who are you?" he asked.

An Indian boy trembled next to Buffy. "No-one," he replied.

The guard nodded and stepped in front of Buffy. "Who are you?"

Buffy paused, and glanced at Jesse, then turned back to the guard with a wide smile.

"I'm Buffy. The vampire slayer. And you are?"

The guard raised his club and as he brought it down, Buffy caught his arm and jerked it back, a horrible cracking sound eliciting a scream from the demon. She grabbed the club that had dropped out of his hand and swung it at his face. He fell back onto the dusty concrete ground, unconscious, his arm bent at an unnatural angle.

"Anyone who's not having fun here," said Buffy, looking back at the other teenagers, "Follow me."

Buffy took off in a sprint down a dark corridor, with Jesse on her tail, and many soft footsteps following them. They came to a corner and huddled against the shadows, and Buffy waved them back to wait as she crept closer to look around the next corridor. Around the bend, a ledge looked over a wide chamber of workers; the one that Buffy and Jesse had ran to when they fell through the portal.

"What are we supposed to do?" Jesse whispered over Buffy's shoulder, staring at the guards wandering on the ledge.

Buffy gulped. "Okay, when those guards leave, and they will, you take these guys and get up to the ledge. If anyone else wants to come along, fine, but you don't stop for anything."

"Where are you going?"

They turned and heard the barking voices of guards approaching behind them. "We've gone public," said Buffy, "Get them out, now!"

"But where are you-"

"Jesse, go!"

Jesse ran forward, leading the rest of the trapped teenagers through the main chamber as a group of guards ran toward Buffy. Buffy's eyes scanned the small group and she ran out into the chamber, wondering if she could take them all. Quick on her heels, she grabbed one of the standing metal pipes and swung herself around, kicking one of the demons in the face. A few of the workers stopped what they were doing and stared at the slayer, their mouths open wide as she fought off demon guards.

It wasn't long before a screeching siren began to sound. A cool sweat dampened Buffy's forehead as searchlights passed over her face. Buffy waved her club through the air, keeping the demons at bay when she spotted Jeremiah rushing onto the ledge that lead into the chamber, staring wide eyed at the commotion.

"Humans don't fight back!" he yelled in her direction, "That's how this works!"

He grabbed a guard by the shoulder and ordered him to get down there before vanishing back into the corridor that led toward the portal. As the guards occupied themselves with fighting Buffy, a few soot-covered prisoners peeled away from their posts and ran toward the exit. One of the demon guards jumped off of the ledge, a warrior's cry ripping from his throat as he fell toward Buffy. The slayer took one step to the side and the demon landed with a thud on the ground.

"Demons," Buffy grunted, "Not that bright."

At the end of the exit corridor, Jesse stood underneath the portal of suspended, murky water, he and another boy hooking their hands together on the ground so that they could lift the prisoners to freedom. His ears rang with the shouts of the fight down the corridor. A droplet of sweat stung his eyes and he blinked it away, wondering if even the slayer could survive in a chamber full of demons.

"You," he said, pointing to a generously freckled boy, "Help lift."

The boy obediently took Jesse's place as Jesse crept down the corridor, headed toward the chamber, keeping to the shadows. The end of the dark hall was eerily silent, and when he saw the sliver of light and the cacophony of noise coming from the chamber, something thin, cold and sharp was tapped against his neck.

"You're coming with me."

Jesse swallowed. It was Jeremiah's voice and Jeremiah's blade threatening to slice Jesse's throat. Jeremiah pushed him forward, keeping the blade tight against Jesse's neck, and led him out onto the ledge. Jesse widened his eyes down at Buffy, who was a little blond fleck fighting off a horde of demons armed with clubs and blades.

"One of you fights," Jeremiah bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, "And you all die."

Buffy looked up, her chest heaving, and stared at the blade on Jesse's throat. Jesse's mouth crept up in a smirk and he winked one eye at Buffy, hoping she'd notice. Buffy's arms fell limp to her side and a bunch of demons grabbed at her limbs, holding her in place.

"That…" Jeremiah breathed, "Was not permitted."

Buffy frowned coldly up at him. "Yeah, but it was fun."

Jeremiah gritted his teeth. "You've got guts. I think I'd like to split you open and play with them. Let everyone know, this is the price of rebellio-"

Jesse shut his eyes and threw up one hand, and a crooked bolt of lightning cracked and illuminated the entire chamber in a blinding white. Everyone shrunk back and when Jesse opened his eyes, Jeremiah had dropped his blade to the floor and was holding one hand in front of his face to shield from the light. Jesse grabbed onto the rough fabric of Jeremiah's clothes and threw him off of the ledge, right into a vat of molten metal. Prisoners and guards alike gasped and shrank back from the flecks of hot metal, and Buffy laughed with surprised, looking up at Jesse with a newfound respect.

The slayer headbutted the two surprised guards and leapt onto one of the machines, grabbing on to a hanging metal chain that was hooked onto the ceiling and took a jump, swinging onto the ledge and landing with a heavy thud and a spry body roll. Jesse grabbed her arm and hoisted her upwards.

"Let's go."

Down the corridor, they helped the rest of the prisoners out before the last few pulled them up with them. Breathing heavily, they pulled themselves out of the murky pool and when they'd looked back, it was replaced by solid stone.

"It's closed," Buffy sighed, "It's gone."

Jesse stared at the pool, his breath rattled.

"Are you okay?" asked Buffy.

"No," he frowned, "I'm wearing a dress."

xxx

_It's been a while since I wrote in my journal. The last entry Finn cheating on Rachel with Santana… so I've obviously been on kind of a break. What can I say? Things got hectic. Things got bad. Real bad. The worst they've ever been, actually. And I left. I couldn't deal, so I ran. It's not the soundest solution, but my fight or flight instinct kicked in. All it took was seeing someone from Lima again._

_Jesse got me thinking about my friends more than I already was. Rachel and Quinn are happy together. Tina and Mike broke up. Finn's back in glee club. Mr. Schuester is depressed… The only one he couldn't really tell me about was my mom. Not knowing about her was the worst. I was missing all of these important moments in my friends' lives. I couldn't handle it anymore._

_So Angel's letting Jesse rent his room, and Fred let him fill my position at the cafe. Jesse says it's just until his big break, so not long. I took the first Greyhound back to Ohio. I needed to face my fear of returning to what's no longer there so I can be around for what _is _there. When Mom answered the door, I half expected her to slam it on my face. But she folded me into her arms and wouldn't let go for an hour. I'm in the bathroom now, scribbling in my journal like a little girl, preparing myself._

_It's time I see my friends._

_- B_


	78. The Prodigal Daughter

**Chapter 75**

**The Prodigal Daughter**

It was both strange and familiar to be back in Lima. Slipping on a leather jacket that still hung in the same place in her closet, Buffy figured it was like she'd never left. But she had. And even though nothing looked different, it would be. She would have to adjust all over again. With her mom. With her friends. So she figured she may as well get the ball rolling.

She snaked around a back alley that was a little-known shortcut to the Bronze. She figured if her friends weren't pooling their money to get spaghetti dinners at Breadstix, they would be trading squished cockroaches for free sodas at Lima's only night-club's pre-fumigation party. She walked along, the heels of her boots echoing in the alleyway when she heard the reverberating crash of a trash can not too far down the alley. She crouched a little lower and continued walking, alert. She had a feeling it wasn't just a stray cat or a drunk teenager.

She walked on in the eerie quiet until she accidentally kicked at a discarded soda can on the ground. It skittered noisily across the pavement and a figure jumped out from the shadows, brandishing a sharp weapon. Buffy caught the attacker's wrist in one hand before she could be stabbed in the chest. A wooden surface scraped against her jacket. A stake. Buffy looked up and saw wide, swampy brown eyes. Buffy broke out into a smile at the sight of them.

Blaine.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you about playing with pointy sticks? It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."

Blaine dropped his arm down to his side and gaped at Buffy. "You shouldn't… sneak up on people like that. Jeez, Buffy…"

Blaine pulled her in for a hug, the stunned look still gracing his face, his arms closing over her shoulders. Buffy closed her eyes and the almond-y smell of good old Blaine Anderson came back to her. Suddenly, she fell toward thin air as Blaine was pulled back by a vampire. Blaine executed a headbutt from underneath the vamp's grasp, as Buffy dashed forward, sending a punch thudding against the vampire's head. The vampire toppled off of Blaine and clasped his head, wincing dizzily as Buffy drew her stake. Just as she did, Blaine leapt off of the ground, holding his own stake, eyes darting between Buffy and the vampire.

"Oh, you wanna…?" Buffy asked, taking a step backward.

"Oh, no, you go ahead."

"No, you can-"

Light blinded Buffy and the blonde shielded her eyes as a ball of flames erupted in the alley. Buffy looked up to see the vampire set ablaze, arms flailing, his screams muffled by the engulfing smoke and fire until he turned to dust and the flames disappeared. Buffy bugged out of her eyes as the black ash left on the grimy ground and looked up to see a tall girl decked in plaid and leather, sporting a choppy pink haircut.

"Got him," she frowned smugly, placing her hands on her slender waist. She looked up at Buffy, her face blank a moment, before she registered the slayer's face.

"Quinn?" Buffy gaped.

"B-Buffy?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Buffy opened her mouth.

"Quinn," Blaine frowned.

"I mean… When did you get back?" Quinn frowned.

"Today," Buffy replied as the now pink-haired girl stared her down, "I like your new 'do."

Quinn self-consciously touched the ends of her bubblegum bob. "...Thanks."

A crackle of electricity drew Buffy's eyes to the walkie-talkie attached to Quinn's studded belt.

"Come in, Pink Ranger. Everything okay?"

Buffy and Quinn met eyes again, Quinn's cheeks turning the same shade as her hair under the glow of a distant street lamp.

"Pink Ranger?" Buffy smirked.

"Shut up," Quinn muttered sourly, looking Buffy up and down, "Welcome back."

Buffy smiled to herself. "Thanks," she said under her breath.

Quinn brought the walkie-talkie up to her lips. "Guys, come around the corner. There's something you need to see."

Buffy's heart picked up as footsteps quickly sounded down the corner and figures approached. Kurt, Rachel and Tina appeared under the light and their jaws dropped once they saw the slayer.

"Hey," she said lamely, feeling shy and sheepish under their stares.

Speechless, they rushed toward the slayer and attacked her in a tight group hug. Blaine joined the huddle and Quinn watched from the back, wondering what this would mean for Lima now.

"We have to go to Mr. Schuester's," she said, still frowning.

Rachel pulled away from the group hug and turned to Quinn, her face frozen in shock and glee. "Yes. Of course!" she said, quickly turning back to Buffy, "Does Mr. Schuester know you're here? When did you get back? We have to go see him."

"I just got back tonight. And no, he doesn't know," Buffy shook her head.

Kurt breathed out, looking distressed. "Where were you?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "New York."

"New York City?! You went and lived in New York all summer without me?" Rachel asked, jealousy rising up her face before Quinn calmly touched her shoulder.

"Rachel." 

"Sorry," Rachel sighed, "What were you doing in New York?"

Buffy shuffled uncomfortably. "So you two are dating now, huh?"

Rachel and Quinn glanced at each other. "Uh, yeah. How did you know?" asked Rachel.

"Jesse told me."

"You saw Jesse?" asked Quinn, "When?"

"When I… Listen, this is a lot. We should go to Will's place. I'd like to see him."

The scoobies, plus one, piled into Tina's car and drove to the low-rise apartments on the other side of town that Mr. Schuester lived in. They piled around the front door and Buffy's finger hesitated in front of the buzzer.

"Are you sure it's not too late? Maybe we should come back tomorrow-"

"Buffy," Tina said tentatively, sounding like a stern mother.

"Okay, okay. But what if he's mad?"

"Why would he be mad?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Because you abandoned your post and your friends and your mom and made him lie awake every night worrying about you when he wasn't flying across America looking for you?"

Buffy retracted her finger from the buzzer and balled her hand into a fist.

Rachel turned around to give her girlfriend a scolding glare. "Quinn, really?" 

Quinn shrugged.

"Buffy, he'll be happy to see you. Really," said Blaine.

Buffy nodded, breathed out and pressed the buzzer. After a few long seconds, Mr. Schuester's voice crackled on the other end.

"Hello?"

Buffy's voice almost caught in her throat before she managed to croak his name. "Will?" 

He paused for what felt like a year. "Buffy?"

Buffy sighed and pressed the buzzer. This was harder than she thought it would be. A million times harder. "I'm back. I'm with the gang."

Will paused again and the buzzer sounded. "Come in."

The gang rushed upstairs to Will's apartment and knocked on the door, only for him to almost simultaneously open it. Buffy blinked at him - hardly recognizing her watcher. He was clad in only socks, jeans and a gray t-shirt and scruffy, five o'clock shadow covered his face. His eyes were blood-shot, but they stared sternly at Buffy's face. She wondered if he'd been drinking and was immediately engulfed with guilt. What had she done to him?

His face suddenly softened.

"Welcome home, Buffy," he smiled, and pulled her into a hug. The scoobies smiled and shuffled awkwardly in the hallway.

"Come in, come in," he said, ushering them in, one arm over Buffy's shoulder as he guided them all into his living room.

The place was cluttered with maps, letters, books and empty beer bottles, but he hurriedly tried to tidy the place as the scoobies sat down.

"When did you get back?" he asked as he flitted around, shoving loose pages of paper out of sight.

"Just a few hours ago. I went to see my mom first," Buffy replied as she sat on the couch, sandwiched between Blaine and Rachel.

"Of course," said Will, taking a seat on an armchair, "How did you find her?"

Buffy shrugged. "I pretty much remembered the address."

"No, I mean… Never mind. I'm just glad you're back."

"And you're not wanted for murder anymore," said Kurt.

"Oh, good," Buffy sighed, "That was kind of a drag."

"She was in New York," Rachel knowingly informed Will, before addressing Buffy, "What were you doing in New York? Were you living in a box or what?"

"It's a long story," Buffy squirmed uncomfortably.

"So get right down to the good stuff," said Kurt.

"Maybe we should let Buffy adjust a little before we give her the third degree about her summer," Tina piped up calmly, her eyes on Will's carpet.

"What she said," Buffy nodded.

"Fair enough," said Blaine, "We can even keep taking care of your slaying duties. We've got kind of a thing going on."

"I see that. You've got quite the set-up. Walkie-talkies and everything."

"Yeah, and we're good," said Quinn, "We dust nine out of ten."

Rachel shrugged. "Six out of ten."

"Whatever. We've been kicking ass, basically."

"That's okay," said Buffy, "I'm more interested in this makeover that's going on. You're talking like Puck and dressing like Tina circa 2009."

"Well, someone had to pick up a little bad-ass slack since you and Santana…"

Quinn trailed off. Buffy looked away, the playfulness in her eyes fading away, as the others gave each other somber looks.

"What about you, Tina?" Buffy asked, looking up at her friend, trying to resurrect the cheer, "Where are the studs and eyeliner?"

Tina smirked. "I didn't have as much time for the creature-of-the-night look, with us slaying and everything."

"Right," Buffy nodded, "Well, hopefully things can get back to normal now. You know, slaying, school, brainless fun. Kid stuff. Are you guys up for hanging out tomorrow?"

The scoobies silenced.

"Actually, Buffy, I'm kind of tied up," said Rachel, glancing at Quinn, "I'm running for student government this year, so…"

"So am I," Kurt piped up, "Rachel's my opponent, actually. We're being surprisingly civil about it all, though."

"Oh. Okay," Buffy nodded, disappointed, "Tina?"

"Tomorrow?" Tina asked, looking uncomfortable, "I don't know…"

"Come on, I need to get myself a new wardrobe. Manhattan boutiques are way too expensive," said Buffy.

"You lived in _Manhattan_?!" Kurt hissed at her, before Blaine shot him a fervent look, "Or, you know, tell us all about it in your own time."

"I'm just saying, I need a girls' trip to the Gap. Friends don't let friends browse alone."

Tina hesitated, and gave Buffy a shrug. "Yeah, I mean, I had some school work, but I guess I can cancel my plans."

"Speaking of school, Buffy," said Will, "You'll have to talk to Principal Figgins before you come back."

"On it. Mom's making an appointment for tomorrow. It'll all be taken care of."

xxx

"Absolutely not. Under no circumstances."

Principal Figgins' office looked the same as it did before the summer. Thunderclap yearbooks lined the bookshelves chronologically, their red and white patterns varying for every year. A gold-plated bar boasting Figgins' name sat on his cherrywood desk and his russet hands were clasped behind it.

"But you can't keep her out of school. You don't have the right."

Buffy squirmed in the fabric chair next to her mother, both women opposite the stone-faced principal. This conversation wasn't going how either of them had wanted or expected it to, and the desperate frustration was written all over Joyce's face.

"It's not just up to me. No parent in their right mind would enroll a child in a school that welcomes a _wanted fugitive_, Ms. Summers."

"Buffy was cleared of all charges!"

"While that is a relief to us all, Buffy Summers is still a troublesome student. Numerous times she has destroyed school property and skipped her classes. Her grade point average alone is abysmal."

"Do you even understand that this is a young girl's entire future?"

"I believe that Ms. Summers' natural charisma will open doors."

Buffy locked her jaw and put a tight grip over the handle of her purse. "This is a waste of time," she said, leaning forward, "Mom, let's go."

She stood up and headed for the door. Joyce quickly stood, as well.

"This isn't over," she said, "I'll go to the school board. The mayor if I have to. In fact, I think I might just get the media involved. Let this town know what kind of system you're running."

Joyce stormed out, following her daughter out into a hallway cluttered with teenagers.

"How did it go?" 

Will had been waiting outside the office, trying to look casual as he checked his iPhone and absentmindedly inspected flyers for an 80s themed open mic night at the Bronze while he waited for Buffy and Joyce to finish with their meeting. By the looks of their tense faces, the meeting had not gone well.

"How do you think it went?" Joyce snapped, running a hand through her hair.

Will sheepishly looked at the floor. "Right. Sorry."

Joyce sighed, exhausted. "No, I'm sorry. That horrible little man should be replaced immediately."

"There has to be some way he can overruled," Mr. Schuester said, the three of them making a small triangle.

As the adults talked about Buffy's situation, the slayer gazed down the hallway of her old high school. It didn't feel like it had been so long since she had been here, daydreaming through glee club rehearsals and researching ghouls with her fellow scoobies. She knew things would change, drastically, and it was going to be a hard year for her and her mother. As she watched her former classmates shuffle past, a familiar blond mop-top passed.

Her staring caught Sam's attention and they met eyes. He lifted his hand and gave her a small wave, his mouth wide open, stunned. He looked like he was about to approach - probably to barrage her with questions about being back in Lima - but Mercedes rounded the corner and tugged on his arm. With a last glance at Buffy, he swung his arm over Mercedes' shoulders and the two walked away with Buffy staring after them. _Sam and Mercedes? _It didn't make any sense for her to be jealous. Sam deserved a loving girlfriend and Mercedes deserved to be with a good guy. She was happy for them. She was just surprised by how fully Lima seemed to have moved on without her.

xxx

Rachel stuck a straight line of tape over a graffitied locker, covering up 'Piper 3 Rick' with a campaign poster that featured her smiling widely, a star-spangled hairband adorning her head. She smiled at her profile and at the red, white and blue words above her that read, 'Vote Classy. Vote Berry.' It was perfect.

"It's perfect," she said aloud, clasping her hands together as she admired it, "And it really brings some class to our school's dreary hallways. That's one of my promises - to make our school look like a cleaner, more sophisticated version of itself. Starting with painting over these drab, pea green lockers."

"Who are you talking to?"

Tina walked over to the brunette, textbooks in hand, and leaned against a nearby locker.

Rachel looked over at Tina and smiled. "I'm practising my speech. One of my promises is to make McKinley beautiful. It's a part of my Make McKinley Beautiful campaign."

"Clever."

"The lockers are going to be alternating red and white. The school colors. They're not extremely flattering, but it is somewhat patriotic, don't you think? Besides, I'm planning on getting rid of these terrible linoleum tiles. Stoner Brett was messing around in the Chem lab and spilled a noxious acid on the ground and it melted away the tile, and do you know what they found underneath? Hardwood floors! Can you believe it?"

Tina shrugged and looked at the floor. Rachel turned to her friend and gave her a good once over, wondering why she wasn't more enthusiastic about her amazing campaign. Tina's dark ponytail hung limp and she was wearing - probably for the first time - just a sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. Rachel looked at the girl's eye bags and frowned sympathetically.

"Tina, I'm worried about you."

Tina wrinkled her brow at Rachel. "Don't be. I'm fine."

"I don't think you are. You've lost all of your drive. You got an A- on our first day History pop quiz. You've never gotten a grade that low!"

"What does it matter? I may as well blow off everything this year; I already got into the Watcher's Academy."

Rachel's eyes widened at her friend. "No. You're just going through a depression. You'll get over this; you just need to keep busy. Here, help me hang my campaign posters."

Rachel handed Tina a stack of glossy poster pages.

"When did you have time to make these?" Tina asked.

"Please," Rachel laughed, not even dignifying it with an answer.

"So you're really immersing yourself in this election, huh?"

"At first, I just wanted it to look good on my college applications, but now I really believe that I can change McKinley for the better with a little class. We could play smooth jazz in between periods. We could put a salad bar in the cafeteria. The possibilities are endless, really."

Tina nodded, looking at the ground. "Do you need any help after school?" 

Rachel's smile faded. "Aren't you meeting up with Buffy after school?"

Tina frowned. "Yeah, I guess," she said, and looked hopefully at Rachel, "Hey, do you want to come with?"

Rachel shrugged, looking away. "I have a lot of work to do-"

"I could help you. I'm sure Buffy will understand."

Rachel looked up at Tina, saying nothing for a moment. "It's weird that she's back," she finally said, quiet.

Tina sighed, almost relieved. "I know. I mean, I'm glad that she's back. But it's weird. We don't know what happened to her or to Santana and she's missed so much. How are we supposed to just go back to how things used to be?"

"That's the thing. I don't _want _things to go back to how they used to be," Rachel said in a hushed tone, leaning in as her classmates passed, ignoring the girls' conversation, "Things have changed and I like it. I like being _the unchosen ones_. It makes me feel important and I hate to sound self-obsessed, but for once, not everything is about Buffy."

Tina shrugged. She didn't want to admit it to Rachel, but she did want things to go back to how they used to be. She just knew it was impossible. The girls straightened up as Quinn approached, her hips swinging with a plaid sweatshirt tied across them.

"Hey, ladies," she smiled coolly, leaning her hand against a locker and looking up at Rachel's poster, "Nice."

"What do you think of the slogan?" Rachel asked, smiling widely at her girlfriend, "Is it too uppity?"

Quinn smiled. "It's very 'you'."

Rachel smiled, showing off her pearly teeth. "Thanks. The Make McKinley Beautiful initiative is going to _rock_!"

Quinn snorted. "So, can I take you out to lunch? I have Sofia's car, so we could hit up a Taco Bell."

Rachel looked back at where Tina had been standing, but the girl had disappeared.

"Oh, um," Rachel stammered as she turned back to Quinn, "Actually, I wanted to work on this campaign some more. I have posters to put up and speeches to write. That sort of thing. I'm even working on a campaign tour around Lima. A rally at the Bronze, maybe a meet-and-greet at the public library."

"Is that expected?"

"It's unprecedented," Rachel smiled proudly, "But my goal has always been to raise the bar."

Quinn gave her a half-smile. "You always do."

xxx

Kurt rushed up the steps to McKinley, a half-full cup of Lima Bean frappucino sloshing around in his hand. He had already missed first period because he had overslept and had to pick up a coffee so that he didn't crash in the middle of AP French. His dreams - or rather, his family's dreams - had kept him tossing and turning all night, only getting about three solid hours of sleep.

Finn's dreams had been fraught with anxiety; his big, oafish hands fumbling to catch a football, make a grilled cheese sandwich and unclasp a bra. His dads dreams hadn't continued to sweetly include his late wife and current wife, but heavily featured bowling tournament victories. Carole's dreams were always either beautiful and poetic, or as mundane as loading an endless pile of laundry. Frankly, Kurt was sick of his family's innermost thoughts infringing on his beauty sleep.

"Rough night?"

Kurt pulled off his sunglasses to see Blaine speed-walking beside him. "Is it that obvious?"

"You look fairly hungover and I would be pretty offended if you had a margarita night without me."

"I would never," Kurt fake gasped, "It was the dreams again."

"They're getting a little out of hand, huh?"

"A little? I can barely tell what are my own dreams anymore. This has to stop. I'm tired all the time now."

"Well, I knew you wouldn't have a lot of time, so I made these."

Blaine stepped in front of Kurt and unrolled a glossy page of poster paper, revealing a picture of them both, wearing tailor-made suits they had gotten that summer for a _Great Gatsby _brunch they had both hosted. Except in the picture, they were in black and white, with blue words on top that said, 'Stand Up', and red words on the bottom that said, 'Hummel-Anderson '13'.

"Oh my God, Blaine," Kurt gushed, "These are great. Thank you so much. It completely slipped my mind to start making posters. When did you find time to do this?"

Blaine just laughed. "Please."

"I don't know what to say."

"Oh, I know exactly what you should stay," Blaine smiled, "I have been working on an amazing speech for you to give at Breadstix next Wednesday night."

"Why would I be giving a speech at Breadstix?"

"Please, you think Rachel is the only one who's planning on having a campaign tour?"

"How do you know Rachel's doing a campaign tour?"

"I have inside sources."

"Tina?"

Blaine pursed his lips. "I'm not at liberty to say."

"So Tina."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Do you know what Rachel's campaigning for? Class."

"Class?"

"She wants to class up McKinley. Sparkling water drinking fountains and calligraphy lessons."

"That sounds amazing."

"To you and I, sure, it sounds amazing, but to the average McKinley student, there are things that matter a lot more than being classy."

"You have a point. So what are we concentrating on? With 'stand up' as our slogan, I'm thinking anti-bullying? Because, I mean, it's an issue that's important to both of us, and I was thinking about banning dodgeball from gym class-"

"No, no, no. Kurt, our classmates don't care about bullies. We have to concentrate on things that they care about."

Kurt frowned. "Such as?"

"How about this?" Blaine smiled excitedly, splaying out his hands, "The citizens of Ohio are a simple people. Even the youngest and the trendiest go home to their Republican parents and their fried vegetables. They are traditional. They are _American_. So, we do what Americans do. When someone tries to take away our rights, we _stand up_."

Kurt furrowed his brow. "So what are we going to do, exactly?"

"When Rachel Berry decides to put a salad bar into the cafeteria, we take that as an attack on our right to eat whatever trash we want. When Rachel paints over our pea green lockers, we accuse her of starting a war on tradition. When Rachel starts to regulate our dress codes to ban halter tops and tanks, we stand up for our right to bare arms. When-"

"Blaine," Kurt held up a hand, "With all due respect, this sounds kind of… stupid. Like we're pandering to our classmates, but in a really condescending way."

Blaine smirked. "You just don't understand politics," he said before Sugar Motta strode forward and flashed both boys a blinding smile.

"Hey, ladies," she whinnied, and offered up a candy bar covered in pink paper with _Sugar _written in glitter, "Vote Sugar."

Kurt looked from the candy bar up to Sugar's face, her eyelashes covered in glitter as well. "Vote Sugar? For what?"

"Senior class president," Sugar smiled.

"Did you say _senior _class president?"

"Do you have a hearing problem?" Sugar asked slowly, "Yeah, I said senior class president."

"But Sugar, you're a freshman," said Blaine.

"Like it matters," Sugar snorted.

"What are you talking about? Of course it matters. You're not allowed to run unless you're a senior," said Kurt.

Sugar smirked. "I can do whatever I want. My dad is single-handedly funding the school government program."

She gingerly tucked her candy bar into the front pocket of Blaine's pinstriped button shirt and skipped away, her Louis Vuitton handbag dangling from the crook of her elbow.

"Can you believe that?" Kurt asked, staring after her.

Blaine rolled his brown eyes. "She's like Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian rolled into something that's somehow less talented. Trust me, she's not a threat."

xxx

"Don't worry about school, honey."

Buffy stared out of the passenger seat window as her mother pulled the car up to the Lima strip mall. Truthfully, she wasn't all that worried about school, but her mind was full. Things had changed in Lima since she'd left. Changed in the sense that they kept going on without her. She shouldn't be offended that people moved on with their lives. Not everyone would stop everything for her. Not everyone was like Will. And if everyone else can move on, then she can too.

"If we can't get you back into McKinley," Joyce continued when Buffy didn't reply, "We may be able to swing private school."

Buffy wrinkled her nose and looked at her mother. "Blazers and kilts? You want me to get field hockey knees?"

"It's not that bad," Joyce sighed.

"How about homeschooling?" Buffy asked, hopefully, "It's not just for scary religious people anymore."

"We'll work something out," Joyce said vaguely, unlocking the doors, "Tell Tina I said hi."

Buffy nodded and gave her mother a peck on the cheek before swinging her purse over her shoulder and getting out of the car. She didn't realize how much she'd missed being in a Midwestern mall as she took in the scent of day-old pretzels and perfume samples. She took a seat on a smooth, cold, metal bench outside of a Sephora and waited for Tina.

Buffy sighed and tapped her fingers against her knees, thinking about Sam and Mercedes again. Was she stupid for dumping him for Santana last spring? No, of course not. She was in love with Santana. She didn't have the same passion with Sam. She was just lonely and jealous and looking for comfort. And who better to comfort her than Sam, who had practically idolized her? She looked around for Tina again. Maybe her friend could make her feel better. After all, the two were now single and sad. They could comfort each other.

If Tina ever showed up. Buffy checked her watch. It was well past the time they had agreed on and Tina was almost never late. Buffy decided to give it a few more minutes, but after a while, she started to feel like a ditched prom date. She grabbed her purse and got a bus back to the suburbs, feeling like an industrial-sized pile of garbage as she padded up the front walk of her house alone. She looked up to see an older woman with cropped blond hair walking down from her porch.

"Oh my word, you must be Buffy!" the woman smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, "Look at you. Aren't you a picture?" 

Buffy furrowed her brow. "Thanks…"

"I'm Pat. I'm from your mother's book club. I'm sure she's mentioned me."

"Actually-"

"I sort of took it upon myself to look after her while you were off and away and what have you. Between your situation and reading 'The Fault in Our Stars', she was just a wreck. You can imagine."

Buffy opened her mouth though she was unsure of how she was supposed to reply to that. Luckily, Pat was already heading off in a hurry.

"Well, I'm off. We're making empanadas in my Spanish class tonight. You go be with your mother. The two of you need to re-bond," she called to Buffy as she shuffled to her hatchback.

Buffy turned her back and walked into her house, irked by Pat, tossing her purse on the end table in the front hallway. She noticed the TV buzzing in the living room, playing a local news channel that featured a fluffy-haired anchorman ensuring the citizens of Lima that the feeling of being watched in a dark alley is due to anxiety that comes from toxins in our drinking water and should be ignored.

"Pat wishes us quality time," said Buffy, leaning against the living room arch and looking at her mother, who was flipping through a cookbook on the couch.

"Oh. I met her in-"

"Book club. Got it."

"Before I forget, Tina just called."

Buffy's mouth made a thin line. "Where was she?"

"She says she got held up, but she tried to call."

Buffy nodded, looking distantly at the floor. Maybe it wasn't just her. Maybe she had good reason to feel left out of everyone's lives in Lima. Joyce tried to look hopefully as she slapped a bookmark into her cookbook and stood up.

"I had a thought," she said lightheartedly, "What if I invited Tina and Mr. Schuester and everyone over for a dinner party?"

Buffy considered the idea, unsure if she wanted to spend a whole awkward evening with her friends.

Joyce grinned sheepishly. "I was hoping for a yes, since I already did."

Buffy sucked in some air. "Okay. It'll be fun," she said, wishful.

"Great. Why don't you run downstairs and get the company plates?"

"Mom, Tina and everybody aren't company plate people. They're normal plate people."

"Indulge your mother," Joyce smirked.

Buffy rolled her eyes good-naturedly and headed for the basement. An old armoire was pressed against the back wall, where they kept their good china wrapped in newspaper. Buffy lifted the stack of plates to find a Polaroid photograph stuck to the bottom of the drawer. She plucked it from it's position and held it up in the darkness. It was her, Tina and Rachel, decked in fluffy pyjamas and seaweed facials, from a sleepover at least a year back.

Buffy frowned at it, feeling like she was looking at a picture of someone else's life. She pursed her lips and opened the top shelf of the armoire, sticking the picture back in. Her hand touched something furry and she yelped, pulling back, a clump of something dark falling out of the armoire and onto her head. She dropped the china with a thud and a crack, and looked at the thing that had fallen on her and was now limp on the ground. Her eyes widened to see that it was a dead tabby cat, stiff from rigor mortis.

Buffy pulled her eyebrows together and muttered, "Gross."

**a/n: Thank you, everyone, for waiting so long for this chapter. I've been really busy and I haven't been able to upload in a long time, but I haven't abandoned the story and hopefully no-one else has. I hope you guys like it!  
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**Next up, Rachel and Kurt continue to work on their campaign while a homecoming dinner party for Buffy turns into a full-on hootenanny.**


	79. The Welcome Home Party

**Chapter 76**

**The Welcome Home Party**

The sun was starting to set as Buffy kicked at the heel of a shovel, digging dirt out of the ground near her mother's bed of azaleas in the back yard.

"Next time," she said, as Joyce knelt down to place a black garbage bag in the makeshift grave, "I get to pick the mother daughter bonding activity."

Joyce stood back up, her eyebrows knitted together with sorrow as Buffy shovelled dirt back into the grave. Buffy had presented a dead cat to her mother, who tearfully suggested that they give it a burial rather than pay Animal Control to take care of it.

"You want to… say something?" Joyce asked hopefully as Buffy brushed dirt off of her hands.

Buffy curled her lip at the unearthed patch of dirt. "Like what? Thanks for stopping by and dying?"

"How about, goodbye stray cat who lost its way. We hope you find it," Joyce said somberly, clasping her hands together in front of her khakis.

Buffy glanced at her mother, her stomach turning again. An irrational part of her had hoped that when she came back to Lima, everything would be fixed. Santana would still be gone, but at least Buffy would still have her friends and she could wrap herself in her mother's arms and feel like a kid again. She was wrong. Her friends didn't want her in their lives anymore. Even though her mother was glad to have her back, Buffy could tell that she was still hurting, and there wasn't anything her daughter could do.

xxx

"It's not that I'm not happy that she's back," said Rachel, her paintbrush trailing over the construction paper that Sofia picked up for her, "It's just that she's missed so much and I'm still pretty ticked at her for just bailing on us. If we start spending quality time together, I'm either going to have to pretend that everything's fine or we're going to end up having an argument, and I don't want to do either of those things."

Quinn sat on a stool at the other end of the Lopez's Spanish style kitchen island with her laptop, typing up an essay.

"The longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be," Quinn said absentmindedly, her eyes not leaving her screen. Her Motley Crew tank was riding up her abdomen.

Rachel painted a pink curl on the last 'L' in 'Make McKinley Beautiful'. The time she spent working on her campaign was time ignoring her problems with Buffy.

"I know I'm going to offend her," Rachel sighed, "I just don't want her to start calling the shots again. She doesn't get to do that after everything she's done. It's not fair."

"You don't have to worship her as your leader," Quinn snorted, "But if you keep avoiding her, you'll lose her as a friend forever. I mean, she _is _making an effort."

Rachel groaned and looked up at her girlfriend. "You're going to make me go to this party, aren't you?"

"I'm not going to make you do anything. You have all night to decide."

Rachel exhaled, staring back down at her campaign poster. "How is it that you're so supportive of her, when she's _not _around?"

"Buffy had a whole public school obsessed with her. She doesn't need one more person feeding her ego. I'm just keeping her grounded," said Quinn, raising her head and winking at her girlfriend.

Rachel contained a smirk as she leaned over to continue painting. After a moment, Quinn closed the lid of her laptop and peered imploringly at the brunette.

"What?" asked Rachel, keeping her head bowed as she met Quinn's eyes.

"Let's take advantage of the pool before fall closes in on us," said Quinn, swinging her legs around the stool and hopping down, away from the island.

"No," Rachel shook her head, "I have to concentrate on this campaign."

"Come on, no-one takes student council this seriously," Quinn groaned, leaning against the island.

"I do. I have to win this."

"Like your applications won't look good enough-"

"They won't. There are some serious candidates for NYADA. So far, I haven't won a single show choir competition or starred in a school play."

"You don't have to put _this _much work into student council to win class president. People have won doing a lot less."

"Yes, but those people were popular. I have to put in the effort - I'm the least popular candidate."

"That's not true-"

"Yes, it is. I know Kurt had to leave last year because of bullying, but coming back made people respect him and like him more. I'm still practically invisible."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It doesn't matter what you believe," said Rachel, painting over the L as soon as it had dried, "It's the truth. People like Kurt better than me, so I have to be… better."

Quinn leaned over the island, a strip of bare skin on her stomach touching the cold tile, making her shiver as she clasped Rachel's free hand.

"What makes you think that people don't like you?"

Rachel snorted. "Quinn, people hate me. You hated me for years."

Quinn drew her hand back and frowned, staring at the surface of the island. "That was different."

"How is that different? People think of me now what you thought of me then. That I'm an annoying, overachieving, self-obsessed, delusional loser."

Quinn pursed her lips. She hated to hear Rachel talk about herself like that, especially because it echoed the comments Quinn and her Cheerio minions used to make about her in freshman year.

"I was going through some stuff. The only reason I tortured you like that is because, obviously, deep down, I had feelings for you that I didn't understand."

Rachel's face softened. "I know, and I never want to hold that against you, but… You weren't the only one who treated me that way. People would still be treating me that way if they weren't so afraid of _you_."

"They're just intimidated by you."

Rachel snorted derisively.

"They _are_," said Quinn, "I was. Everyone knows that you're ambitious and talented. You're going somewhere, and the rest of us are… stuck."

Rachel frowned. "You're not stuck."

"No, I'm not. Not now that I have you."

Rachel blushed down at her poster. "Well, maybe people respect me more than I give them credit for, but that doesn't mean that they like me."

xxx

Kurt was in the same meadow, surrounded by lilacs, trying to resist the urge to follow a doorway into someone else's dream. He needed a moment's rest to soothe himself. He was just glad that he had Blaine to help him along with his campaign, because he couldn't handle it all by himself. It was only the first week of school and he felt his grades slipping at a time when he could not afford them to.

He felt something illuminate in front of his eyelids as he laid with his eyes closed. His lashes fluttered open as he adjusted to the light and saw a doorway open right in front of him. Stubbornly, he closed his eyes again, folding his arms over his chest and forcing himself to smell the fragrant flowers and feel the grass brush against his bare forearms. He ignored the doorway, but his eyelids pulled open and the light illuminated him.

He was in the white plane of nothingness and the only other person there was his mother. The same blond hair. The same white dress. Kurt couldn't even be angry that he had been pulled away from his own dream to be apart of this vision. Any time he got to see his mother was precious - even if it wasn't real.

"Kurt, I need your help," she said.

She looked serene, as always, but her voice was tensed, like there was an urgent danger.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I need you to come closer," she said, "I need you to set me free."

Kurt stared at his mother's frightened face. "I don't… understand."

"Come closer, you have to see. You have to see."

"See what? I don't understand. Tell me what's wrong."

"Be brave, Kid," she said softly.

The dream ended and Kurt blinked his eyes open, the confusion and alarm left over from the vision still eminent, bouncing in his ribcage. It was morning and he didn't feel like he had gotten a wink of sleep.

xxx

The hallways were eerily empty. A rogue flyer was stuck to a trash can, with not even a slight breeze to shake it off. Buffy pushed a door open to find one of the classrooms empty, too. The whole school was completely desolate, but Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I thought they would be here," she said as Santana moved beside her, looking respectful in a black blouse and black jeans, her hair hanging bone straight on each side of her face.

"They are," Santana replied, "They're waiting for you, Slayer."

"Am I dreaming?"

Santana smiled, more carefree than Buffy had ever seen her look. "I'm probably the wrong person to be asking about that. You'd better go."

"I'm scared."

"You should be," Santana said matter-of-factly.

The bell rang, sounding like evenly paced, angry beeps. Buffy furrowed her brow and rolled over in bed to find the bell was actually her alarm clock. She slammed her fist down on it, smashing the plastic for the third time since she'd had it. She smoothed back her messy hair and realized that it had been a dream. As she lifted herself out of bed, she realized she didn't have anywhere she needed to be. Still, she got dressed and went downstairs to rummage through the fridge for something heavier than cereal.

"I've been talking to the superintendent," Joyce announced as she poured herself coffee, "He seems more reasonable than Figgins. I'm going to speak with him this afternoon. As for private schools, Miss Porter's accepts late admissions. I wrote down the information for you-"

"A girl's school?" Buffy sneered, letting the refrigerator door fall closed, "So now it's blazers, kilts _and _no boys? Why don't we just add in a little footbinding?"

"Buffy," Joyce frowned, her hand laid on the private school paperwork on the counter, "You made some bad choices. You may just have to live with some consequences."

Buffy pursed her lips and opened the fridge again, pretending to look for something. Joyce sighed, taking the trash bag out from under the sink and tying it closed.

"Nothing's settled yet," she said, "I just wish you didn't have to be so secretive about things. I mean, it's not your fault you have a… special circumstance. They should make allowances for you."

"Mom, please, I'm a slayer. It's not like I have to ride the short bus to school," Buffy frowned, letting the fridge close again.

"Couldn't you tell just a few people?" asked Joyce, padding to the back door, her hand on the knob, "Like Principal Figgins? The police department? I'm sure they'd be happy to have a superhero- Is that the right term? Is that offensive?"

Joyce yelped and Buffy whipped around to see her mother drop the trash bag on the floor as cat darted inside the half-opened back door. A tabby cat, padding dirt-covered paw prints into the tiles.

xxx

"I think I need to tell you guys something."

Mike's father briefly glanced over the top of _The Daily Lima_, his coffee getting cold on the rectangular kitchen table. His mother looked questioningly over the green tea she had brought to her lips, the sunlight from the breakfast nook bathing all of them. Mike had finished his Cinnamon Toast Crunch and drained the sugary milk before deciding to do what he'd been avoiding for the last couple days.

"What is it, Mikey?" Mrs. Chang asked sweetly, her brown eyes aflutter.

Mike balled his hands into fists and laid them on the table. "Tina and I broke up."

His father looked up again, lowering his paper. "Is that so? What happened?"

Mike cleared his throat. "We just realized that we were too different."

Mr. Chang nodded. "Good for you. She was dampening your potential."

Mrs. Chang cast a disdainful glance at her husband, and looked lovingly back at her son. "Oh, Mike, are you okay?"

Mike nodded. "I'm fine… I just thought that you guys should know."

Mr. Chang's cell-phone started to ring on the table and he quickly snatched it and pressed the Answer button.

"Sir?" he said, and paused, "Of course."

Mr. Chang rose from his seat and wandered into the other room, talking furtively into his phone.

Mrs. Chang looked sheepishly at her son. "He's been so busy with work. There's that big project coming up." 

"Yeah," Mike nodded, taking his cereal bowl and rising from the table before Mrs. Chang laid a hand on his wrist. Mike looked down at his mother, whose eyes were trying to apologize.

"I'm sorry about Tina. She was a sweet girl."

"Yeah," Mike said quietly, "She still is. We're just… we want different things."

xxx

"Welcome to the Hellmouth petting zoo."

Will got onto his knees to take a look inside the small, gated pet cage that was lying on the edge of Joyce's bed. The tabby cat curled around inside, its fur matted with dirt, hissing and moaning like it was dying.

"The smell…" Will coughed, standing up and backing away from the cage.

"Not exactly new car smell," Buffy said with her hands on her hips, curling her upper lip as she peered at the cat.

Joyce stood by the door, fingering her necklace, her eyes bugged out at the pet cage.

"I'll take it back to my office and… examine it," Will said, frowning, as he turned and saw a wooden, carved mask hanging on Joyce's bedroom wall, "Interesting decorations."

"It's Nigerian," Joyce said, still looking half stunned and clutching her necklace, "I have this dealer who specializes in ancient-"

"You know I love the art talk as much as the next very dull person," Buffy said, "But Will, shouldn't we go get into research mode?"

Will looked uncomfortable. "I think you should stay with your mom, Buffy. I'm sure you have lots of-"

"No, it's fine," Joyce shrugged, "She can go with you."

"Actually, she can't," Will frowned and looked apologetically at Buffy, "You're not allowed on school grounds."

"Oh," Buffy said, surprised and turning pink, "Well, that's a first. I want to go to school but the school doesn't want me."

"I'm sorry. I'll call as soon as I know something."

"And we'll see you tonight?" Joyce asked hopefully, "At dinner?"

"Of course," Will smiled, "Tonight."

xxx

Kurt traced circles on his Chemistry textbook. He was supposed to be sketching molecular bonds, or, at the very least, working on his campaign, but he was doing neither. He was tracing circles and thinking about his mother. In the vision he'd had last night, she seemed desperate for his help. So much so that he had to keep reminding himself that his mother was dead and couldn't possibly need help - but that thought only led him back to the story of how she died. Her soul floating around in the universe she'd wished for at the hands of the Djinn. A world where she wasn't the slayer. Where she could be happy. Even if her soul was somehow experiencing life in an alternate universe, why would she want to be saved?

"Lance agreed to give us the stage at seven, so I'm thinking we should be there by at least five thirty to rehearse and work out the kinks. Did you want to look over your speech now?"

Kurt looked up from his textbook to see Blaine sitting beside him at one of the concrete picnic tables in the courtyard, surrounded by flyers and printed sheets of paper, smiling encouragingly.

"I'm sorry… what? Who's Lance?"

Blaine's face went blank. "The manager of The Bronze?"

"Oh, okay. I give my speech at seven."

"Mm hm. Rachel's giving a speech at Breadstix but we know there will be more people from school at The Bronze. I also convinced Marcie to give us the front page of _The McKinley Times_ - I wrote an article about how much you cared about McKinley."

Kurt blanched. "I haven't even started writing a speech."

"Got you covered," Blaine smiled, sliding a laminated sheet of paper across the table.

"Blaine, thank you," Kurt said gratefully, even though he winced to see that the speech started with, 'My fellow Americans', "I've been off my game lately, because of the dreams."

"That reminds me," said Blaine, rummaging through his backpack and taking out a thin binder, opening to the first page, "I have a list of candidates for Finn."

"Excuse me?"

"Girls, to set up with Finn," said Blaine, "You said you wanted to play Cupid. Get him a girlfriend so that he'd stop having vulgar dreams about Rachel."

"Oh, right," said Kurt, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I take it you have a few ideas."

Blaine grinned and nodded. "Okay, we have Lynette Barger. She's in his Statistics class and plays the cymbals in the marching band. Um, Celeste, she's a Cheerio, but she has low self esteem because of this neckbrace - it was because of this accident from last year's Nationals - anyways, she's getting it off in a couple months, so-"

"Blaine, when do you sleep?"

Blaine smiled and clasped his hands together on the tabletop. "This whole campaign has really brought my organizational skills to light. Maybe I could have a future in politics. Or… event planning."

"It's only been a week," Kurt reminded him, "But thank you. I appreciate it. I've barely been able to function. I feel like I'm seriously sleep deprived. I don't even know if I should go to this dinner thing tonight-"

"You should definitely go," said Blaine, and sighed, "How will it look if you don't? Everyone's been avoiding Buffy. I get it, you're all mad at her, but clearly something bad happened last spring. She made a bad choice but she was just trying to… escape, whatever it was that happened. And I'm willing to bet what that something was."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think anyone wants to say it."

"I know," Blaine nodded, "But if… if Santana died, before we could save her, it would have destroyed Buffy. Maybe it did. Maybe that's what happened."

Kurt breathed through his nose. "I know. I want to be there for her, I do. I just also want to be there for Rachel and Tina. We really bonded this summer and I got to see how hurt they were by Buffy's absence."

"I'm sure we can find a way to all be friends," said Blaine, "And maybe we can start the mending process at dinner tonight."

"Guys," called Quinn.

Kurt and Blaine looked up to see her leaning against one of the railings on the edge of the courtyard. She jerked her head in the direction of the main school building, coaxing them to come follow her.

"I really hope this isn't about the campaign," Kurt muttered as he and Blaine gathered their things and rose from the picnic table.

The scoobies gathered in Will's office, where a pet cage sat on top of his desk, and a tabby cat yowled inside, smelling like death.

"What is this?" asked Kurt, wrinkling his nose as Quinn led them in. Rachel and Tina were already there.

"Zombie cat," Tina said, marveling at the cage as she sat at the desk, her laptop loading up a Google search on 'reanimation'.

"Looks dead. Smells dead. Moving around," said Quinn.

"Interesting," said Blaine.

"Buffy found it last night," Will exclaimed, "Dead. She buried it, but it… well, it rose from the grave."

"I like him," Quinn said jokingly, leaning over to take a look into the mouth of the cage, "We should name him Patches."

Rachel looked back at the boys. "Are you going to Buffy's dinner tonight?" she asked.

Kurt and Blaine glanced at each other, and Kurt gave Rachel a tight nod. "Yeah."

"Okay," Rachel nodded. She had told Quinn that she would attend Buffy's dinner party if everyone else was going. She didn't want to be the only one to not turn up. "Should we bring something?"

"Like what?" asked Tina, looking up from her laptop, "Dip?"

"Well, what kind of party is this?" asked Blaine, "Is this a sophisticated social gathering, because if so, I think brie is in order, maybe some light jazz."

"I hate brie," commented Tina.

"I hate jazz," said Quinn.

"What would we talk about at a gathering, anyways?" asked Rachel, "'So, Buffy, did you meet any prostitutes with hearts of gold on your worldly travels? And b-t-dubs, thanks for putting us through hell for the past six months.'"

"Rachel," Quinn raised her eyebrows, surprised by her girlfriend's cattiness.

"You know what I mean," Rachel sighed, "She doesn't want to talk about what happened and neither do we. Maybe we should invite some other people. Let them know that Buffy's back in town. Play some music. Dance. _Not _talk."

"Buffy did say she wanted to do some regular kid stuff. I think a party qualifies," said Tina. 

Will sighed. "Guys, I'm not sure that's what Buffy's going for. She just got home. She's feeling disoriented. Maybe we should keep things more intimate."

"But what would be a better 'welcome back' than a big Buffy party?" Rachel asked aloud, splaying her hands out at her sides.

"So we have one vote for an intimate party from Mr. Schuester and how many votes for fun?" asked Kurt, raising a hand.

The others raised their hands with him and Mr. Schue shook his head, defeated.

"Fine," he said, "Have it your way. I'm just glad she's back. Now things can get back to normal."

xxx

Buffy felt a little bizarre, standing in a living room full of people she barely knew. She had anticipated that this dinner party would be awkward, but she hadn't expected _this_. She'd been setting the dining room table when Stoner Brett showed up with a bunch of college freshman slackers who claimed to be apart of his reggae band. They were playing the steel drums right now in front of her fireplace. Her mother hadn't even been mad when half of her senior class showed up. She even seemed _proud _that Buffy had been so popular.

The thing was, Buffy barely knew most of the people at her house right now. They didn't even seem to know that they were at someone's welcoming party. They were just dancing around in the living room, spilling out into the hallway, spiked sodas sloshing around in their red plastic cups. Buffy felt surreally out of place, like something out of a Dali painting. She gripped her own Diet Mountain Dew can and spotted Tina sitting at the edge of the couch across the room, absentmindedly bopping her head to the beat of the drums. She had been hard to spot because she didn't look like her usual self, decked in black lace and purple lipstick. She looked… sad.

Buffy weaved through the dancing teenagers and took a seat on the arm of the sofa.

"Hey," she yelled over the music and the talking.

"Hey," Tina nodded to her, looking uncomfortable.

"So this party is… large."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's great. I was thinking it be just us. You know, the gang."

"What?" Tina yelled, shaking her head.

"This is great, but I still want to hang with just-"

Tina shook her head and pointed to her ears, mouthing, 'I can't hear you.' Buffy almost got up and wandered away, but she decided to lay a hand on Tina's arm and leaned into her ear.

"Is everything okay?" she asked right into Tina's ear, "I feel kind of like you're avoiding me."

Tina laughed nervously. "I'm not avoiding you. We're talking. I'm here. You're here."

"So we're cool?"

"Totally. That's why… you know, the party. We're glad you're back."

"Okay," Buffy said uncertainly.

Tina nodded and stared at the band, and Buffy moved off of the sofa, weaving back through the partygoers, wondering why she didn't feel any better. She squirmed her way out of the living room and darted down the hall, looking for a quiet moment. She turned the corner to see Rachel pinned against the door of the basement with Quinn against her, the pink-haired girl's hands splayed on the wall behind her girlfriend, the studded lapels of her leather jacket riding against Rachel's houndstooth sweater-dress. Buffy cleared her throat, averting her eyes and staring at the floorboard.

"Buffy!" Rachel gasped, her cheeks turning bright pink.

She swatted one of Quinn's hands away and smoothed down her dress, clearing her throat, embarrassed. Quinn took a step back and kept one hand leaned against the wall, dropping her hip and keeping her gaze on Rachel. The brunette looked mortified but Quinn looked somewhat proud of herself. She finally pulled her eyes away from Rachel and gave Buffy an uncommitted glance.

"What's up, Slayer?" she asked, her voice sultry smooth, making Buffy flinch.

"What's wrong?" asked Rachel, her face still pink.

"Nothing, just…" Buffy trailed off, staring at Quinn, "Is that Santana's jacket?"

Quinn's grin disappeared and she glanced down at the black leather jacket she was wearing over a Sex Pistols t-shirt and a red pencil skirt. "Uh, yeah," she mumbled.

"Impressive turn-out, huh?" asked Rachel, smiling nervously, jerking her head towards the sounds of Brett's reggae band, "It looks like a lot of people are glad that you're back."

"Yeah, people I didn't even know," Buffy nodded, "Did Will say he was going to be late?"

"He was doing research in his office the last time I saw him," Rachel shrugged, "But he'll be here. He missed you. We all did."

"Yeah," Quinn nodded, looking at Rachel, "But the bait-and-switch routine was kind of a turn on."

"_Quinn_," Rachel gasped, batting at her girlfriend's arm, pretending to be embarrassed but looking insanely pleased with herself, her smile stretching across her face.

"I'll just…" Buffy trailed off awkwardly and wandered away, leaving Quinn and Rachel to nuzzle each other.

The last time she had seen those two, they had finally become friends. A complicated pair of friends, oddly invested in each other, but still. Buffy hadn't prepared herself for _that_. She walked around the staircase and through the hallway on the other side, her hand trailing against the wall that lead to the kitchen. She walked to the doorway when she heard her mother's voice on the other side, having a conversation with Pat, her book club buddy.

"Having Buffy home… I thought it would make it all better," said Joyce.

Buffy's stomach dropped at the sound of her name.

"But in some ways," Joyce continued, "It's almost worse."

Buffy's mouth fell open. She ran upstairs before she knew what she was doing. She closed her bedroom door behind her and sniffed, determined not to cry, but her mother's comment had been a slap in the face. She knew that things were different. Harder. That her friends were avoiding her and her school didn't want her back. But she thought that her mother was the one person who wanted her back. The empty suitcase poking out of the bottom of her bed caught her eye. Maybe Lima really didn't need her. Maybe she could make it a better place by leaving.

xxx

Will had dozens of different books, all open on reanimation, studying as the zombie cat yowled hopelessly in its cage. He had just been about to give up for the night and drive to Buffy's house for her party, when he found a picture of an ancient relic that Tina had printed out earlier that day. It was a mask. Nigerian. He had seen it somewhere before.

"Oh, God."

He took out his cell and dialled Buffy's number. Whoever answered was a boy, and there was music and talking in the background that muffled his already slurred speech.

"Party villa. Blaze it!"

Will wrinkled his brow. "Is this… Buffy's phone?"

"This is _somebody's _phone," the boy laughed on the other line, "What can I do you for, old man?"

"I need to speak to Buffy, right now. It's an emergency."

"Bunny?"

"Buffy!"

"Hey! Is there a Buddy here?! I need a Buddy!" the boy called into the crowd. Will ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry, he's not here. You got the wrong casa, man."

The boy hung up and Will balled his hands into fists. He shoved the phone into his pocket, exasperated, and threw on his jacket.

xxx

Tina made her way upstairs. She couldn't find Buffy anywhere else. Quinn and Rachel said they saw her, but she disappeared. Tina wondered if they had snubbed her like she had. She had been planning on avoiding Buffy for as long as she could, but the guilt was starting to weigh on her. Clearly, Buffy wanted to start fresh, rectify her actions, but they weren't letting her. Tina couldn't imagine how she must have felt, but she was willing to bet that she was lonely. She turned the knob on Buffy's bedroom door and peered inside to see the blonde leaning over her bed, stuffing clothes into a suitcase, sniffing, with tears stuck in her hazel eyes.

Tina stared for a moment, trying to register what she was seeing. "You're leaving again?" Tina asked, her voice just barely working.

Buffy looked over at her, surprised, her hands hovering over the suitcase, with a blouse bunched between them. "Tina-"

"You're just going to run away, all over again? You're not even going to try to make things right?" 

"I _am _trying-"

"Really? Because it looks a lot like giving up."

"Tina, please. I'm just trying to make things easier."

"For who, Buffy?"

"For you. None of you want me here. You're all doing just fine without me."

"We did the best we could. It's not like we had much of a choice."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I left, but you don't know what I went through."

"Because you never told anyone. I'm your best friend, you're supposed to talk to me."

"When am I supposed to talk to you? You're avoiding me like the black plague!"

"This isn't easy for me, Buffy. I know you're going through stuff, but so am I."

"I know you were worried-"

"No, not just that. A lot has been going on in my own life, Buffy. The most important… the _only_ relationship I have ever had ended. I haven't told anybody yet but… I'm going away next year. To the Watchers' Academy."

Buffy's eyes widened. "…You're going to be a watcher?" 

"Yeah. And if you had been around, I would've been able to share this important life stuff with you. But you didn't even ask about Mike when you came back. You're just worried about whether I'm mad at you or not."

Buffy opened her mouth but didn't say anything, stunned, and ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, but it's not enough."

"Tina, you have no idea how much I _wanted _to talk to you. I thought about you and the rest of the gang every day. I wanted to call-"

"It doesn't matter, Buffy, because you didn't!"

Buffy's face fell as her eyes moved over Tina's head, and Tina turned to see Joyce standing in the open doorway, her eyes fixed on the suitcase on Buffy's bed.

"This is a joke, right?" she asked, finally looking at Buffy.

"Mom," Buffy's stomach fell, "Can you just-"

"No, I can't _just_, Buffy," said Joyce, looking betrayed, "What is this?"

"She was running away again," Tina muttered, folding her arms.

"I wasn't!" Buffy exclaimed, "I mean, I'm not sure what-"

"Well, you better get sure, and explain yourself, right away," Joyce demanded, "If you think you can just take off whenever-"

"Stop! Just stop, okay?" Buffy exclaimed, bursting into tears, running her hands through her hair, "I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing!"

She ran out of the room and down the stairs, still unsure of where she was going, but feeling an overwhelming urge to escape. She headed for the front door but her mother was hot on her heel.

"Don't you dare leave this house young lady!" Joyce shouted, nearly hysterical.

People started to turn toward the commotion as the steel drums halted and Stoner Brett and his friends lifted their heads to look at the women fighting.

"Mom, please-" Buffy started as she spotted Quinn and Rachel approaching from the hall.

"No, Buffy, I don't care what your friends think of me, or you, for that matter. You have put me through the wringer all summer. Do you have any idea what it was like?"

"Mom-"

"No, you can't imagine. Months of not knowing whether you were living it up somewhere or dead in a ditch-"

"But you told me!" Buffy shouted, tears continuing to spill down her face, "You said, 'If you leave this house, don't come back.' You found out who I was and you couldn't handle it, remember?"

Joyce huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You didn't give me any time. You just dumped this thing on me and expected me to get it. Well, guess what? Mom's not perfect. I handled it badly. But that doesn't give you the right to punish me-"

"Punish you? I wasn't trying to punish you."

"Well, you did," said Kurt

Buffy's head darted to the living room arch where he was standing, staring steadfast at Buffy, with Blaine awkwardly looking between them over his shoulder.

"Kurt-" Buffy sighed.

"You left and you have no idea what it did to her."

Buffy looked around. "Why is everbody attacking me right now?!"

"Because I know what it's like when someone disappears, Buffy. When you have no idea what happened to them or what you're supposed to do about it. When it's someone you love. Maybe you thought you were doing the right thing, but you weren't."

"Great," Buffy smiled sarcastically, "Does anybody else care to weigh in?"

"Yes," said Rachel, walking forward, her eyes already apologetic as she laid them on Buffy.

"Rachel," Buffy sighed, "Please, I can't hear this right now-"

"We know you don't want to hear it, Buffy, but he's right. You hurt a lot of people."

"So now it's time for all of you to gang up on me?"

People were slipping out of the front door and wandering away from the scene, but most were hanging back, staring at the argument ensuing. Tina stood behind Joyce, looking almost guilty, like she had started the grande blowout.

"We're not ganging up on you," Quinn said bluntly, her hands in her jacket pockets, "But taking off like that was selfish and stupid."

"Okay, I screwed up, I know that, alright? But you have no idea what I was going through," said Buffy.

"Did you even try talking to anybody?" asked Rachel.

"There wasn't any point. There was nothing anyone could do. I had to deal with it on my own."

"And we all see how well that went," Quinn muttered.

"You can't just bury stuff, Buffy," Rachel said softly, "It always comes back up."

"You wouldn't have understood-"

"Because you were the only one who lost Santana?" Quinn asked, accustorily, "She was my best friend and I managed not to hop a Greyhound out of grief."

Buffy scoffed. "No, this grunge-chic identity crisis is totally a healthy way of dealing with it." 

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're wearing all of her clothes. Calling me Slayer, acting all… broody. You really think pink hair makes you cool and edgy?"

"Screw you, Runaway Barbie, I was the one who picked up the slack when you left to have a pity party. You're so pathetic-"

"Keep piling on, Quinn, your It Girl complex hasn't quite rounded itself out yet."

Quinn laughed. "Alright, you stop acting like an idiot, I'll stop piling on."

"You're calling _me_ an idiot… Pink Ranger?"

"Okay, you guys need to calm down," said Blaine, brushing past Kurt to stand between Buffy and Quinn, afraid a cat fight might break out.

"Just let them go at it, Blaine," Kurt said, unimpressed, "Talking about it isn't solving anything. We may as well try violence."

The party guests flinched as something crashed through the Summers' living room window. Bursting through shards of glass and drapery was a man whose flesh was falling off of his body. His eyes were dead and lifeless as he shuffled toward them. The partiers screamed and scattered throughout the house, some of them making it to the door, but most of them flailing around in a panic.

"I was being sarcastic!" Kurt cried, as Quinn darted forward and threw a flame from the palm of her hand.

The zombie caught fire but flailed dangerously close to the curtains and the other guests. More zombies were pounding at the front and back doors, trapping most of the gang's classmates into the house.

"Are you _trying _to burn the house down?!" Buffy exclaimed, grabbing Quinn by the shoulders and pulling her back from the flaming zombie. She ran across the room and grabbed a fireplace poker, tossing it to the other girl. "Kitchen!"

Quinn nodded in a way that said she'd have Buffy's back and darted toward the kitchen with Rachel. Buffy picked up the torn drapes and smothered the flaming zombie with them. He was lying still, but more were tumbling through the broken window. Joyce picked up a vase and smashed it over one of their heads, but the zombie was unfazed.

"Are these vampires?" Joyce asked her daughter uncertainly.

"No," said Buffy, punching one back and watching several teeth fall loose and clatter to the floor.

While the zombie reeled, Buffy grabbed a stake that had once been taped to the bottom of the coffee table and slammed it into the zombie's chest. Nothing happened.

"Nope. Definitely not."


	80. The Slayer

**Chapter 77**

**The Slayer**

Quinn slammed a fire poker through a zombie's chest as more flooded in through the back door, but the metal hook stuck halfway through his chest as he stumbled. Buffy darted in through the hall, her eyes bugging out at the impaled zombie.

"We have to barricade the door!" she called as Quinn poked her head in from the dining room.

Blaine and the rest of the scoobies started grabbing end tables, chairs, anything to hold back the horde of zombies pounded their fleshy fists at the front door. A hand broke through the diamond-shaped window in the door and Rachel screamed as small flecks of glass caught in her hair.

"Upstairs!" ordered Buffy, abandoning the barricade. The scoobies and a few frightened party guests ran upstairs and towards the master bedroom, when the slayer spotted a body moaning on the floor of the landing.

"Pat!" Joyce cried.

"Help me," said Buffy, as she leaned down to lift Pat from the ground.

She and her mother carried the woman into the bedroom as Quinn urgently ushered them in. They dropped her onto Joyce's bed as Quinn, Kurt and Blaine held the door back, trying to shove hungry zombie arms back out.

Buffy grabbed Pat's wrist, trying to feel for a pulse. Her face paled. "She's…"

"Oh, God, Pat," Joyce moaned.

Buffy frowned, not wanting to meet her mother's eyes. "She's dead."

Joyce looked pained, but turned around to see the three teangers struggling to barricade the door with their bodies. Joyce and Buffy rushed toward them to help as Quinn turned, pressing her back against the door.

"Where's Rachel?!" Quinn asked, panicked.

Buffy swallowed. "She's okay. She'll be okay," she said, unconvincing, "We can't let these zombies in."

"_Zombies_?!" Joyce cried, "Oh, God, what happens if they get in?"

"We die," Buffy said curtly.

xxx

"I don't hear anything. Should we check?"

Tina sighed. All she could hear in the darkness of the Summers' linen closet was Rachel's shaky breathing and her own heart beating.

"Yeah, let's go for it."

Tina opened the closet door open with a creak and poked her head out. The house looked trashed - and abandoned - but she could hear some rustling around down the hall. Rachel held a ski pole out for Tina to take.

"Thanks."

They both walked side by side down the hall, hearing the faint sounds of footsteps and a plate falling upstairs. They rounded the corner, both armed with ski poles, when a shadow floated over them. Rachel gasped and held out her ski pole, ready to stab, when she saw it was Mr. Schuester.

He stumbled back and hissed, "Rachel, it's me, it's me!"

"Mr. Schuester! You're alive!" Rachel sighed as she lowered the pole.

"I think the dead man's party has moved upstairs," said Tina, her eyes to the ceiling as they heard some more rustling and shattering coming from above.

"That makes sense," said Will, following Tina, "It's the mask in Joyce's bedroom they're after."

"Mask? What mask?" asked Rachel.

"One of the relics you were researching, Tina," said Will, "Evil Eye."

"Evil Eye," Tina sighed, "Mrs. Summers has the relic of Ovu Mobani in her bedroom?! That is so badass."

"What is Ovum Banana?" asked Rachel.

"Ovu Mobani. A zombie demon," said Tina as they reached the bottom of the staircase, "How are we supposed to get past the zombies?"

"What happens if they get the mask?" asked Rachel, holding the ski pole close to her chest.

"If one of them puts it on, they become the demon."

"Worse than a zombie?"

"Way."

xxx

The bedroom door bust open, throwing back Buffy, Joyce and the remaining scoobies. Quinn landed with a thud on the floor and raised her weakened arms when she noticed the zombie that had busted through had scorch marks all over its burned flesh. It was the same zombie she'd set fire to. Still alive. Still strong.

"How are we supposed to kill them?!" she yelled desperately, her face hot with frustration as Buffy attempted to hit the zombie.

The zombie landed a backfisted punch onto the slayer's face and Buffy thudded against the bedroom wall, knocking a piece of wooden artwork to the ground. Joyce stumbled back, flustered as her daughter tried to fight back the monster, when Pat caught her eye. The woman was standing up from the bed, looking strong and stone-faced.

"Oh, God," Joyce breathed, starting toward her, "We thought you were-"

Pat grabbed Joyce by the shoulders and threw her over the bed. Joyce rolled over the covers and stared in her friend's direction, bewildered. She scrambled over the edge and tried to hide on the other side, where Kurt army-crawled toward her. Both of them watched as Pat bent down to pick up the wooden mask that had fallen to the floor and Buffy, Quinn and Blaine continued to fight off the zombie that had broken its way into the bedroom.

Pat lifted the mask to her face and with a small glowing light, the wood seemed to meld into her flesh. Pat was wearing the glaring red eyes and the fanged frown like it was her own face, and as she did, the zombie that the other scoobies were fighting began to whimper and back away.

"Generally speaking," said Kurt, "When scary things get scared, it's less than good."

Joyce nodded, stunned, as the zombie dropped to its knees, cowering on the floor. The other scoobies turned to face Pat.

"I live," she said in a hollow, otherworldly voice, "You die."

Buffy ran toward Pat, arms out, ready to fight, when she met the demon's eye and was stunned by a flash of light. Pat raised her arm and slammed her fist into Buffy's chest, throwing her to the other side of the room. Buffy fell into a winded heap on the floor as Quinn and Blaine stared at Pat, helpless.

"Don't look!" Buffy raised her head to say, her voice hoarse, as Pat's eyes produced another blinding flash of light.

Pat grabbed a petrified Quinn by the end of her pink hair. Buffy darted up from the ground and grabbed the demonic woman, throwing both of them against the window. Buffy felt glass shatter against her skin and she and Pat were falling. She let go of the woman and rolled down the gable roof and her stomach swooped just before she hit the grass in the backyard. Buffy hopped to her feet and spun around, attempting not to look Pat in the eye.

The demon grabbed the slayer by the back of her dress and threw her to the ground. Buffy shielded her eyes and turned on her back, kicking wildly in front of her until she felt her foot hit Pat's chest. She scrambled over the dewy grass and reached for the shovel that was lying near the upturned patch of earth that the zombie cat had crawled out of. As Pat stood back up and walked toward her, Tina came rushing out of the back door.

"Buffy-" she called, before Pat turned around and, with a blast of light, stunned the girl.

Buffy stood up while Pat's back was turned and wielded the shovel.

"Hey, Pat," she said, almost grinning.

Pat spun back around and Buffy quickly shoved the sharp end of the shovel into the woman's face, slicing right between the eyes of the mask. Pat stumbled back, groaning in pain and reaching, in vain, for the shovel that had impaled her.

Buffy smirked and scanned her brain for something to say. "...Made you look."

_Yeah_, she thought, _I still got it_.

A blinding light poured out of the mask and Pat disappeared into thin air, taking Ovu Mobani with her. Buffy's chest heaved as she tried to reclaim her breath. She looked up at Tina, who was standing on the back porch.

Tina shrugged. "Never mind."

The girls quietly walked back into the trashed house together, the front door off of its hinges, as Joyce led the rest of the scoobies downstairs, her hair a wild mane.

"Oh, honey!" she breathed, rushing over to Buffy and embracing her in a death grip, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Buffy sighed.

Strangely, she _was _alright. She knew she'd bruise a little in the morning, but more than anything, she felt invigorated. She felt like she had a purpose again, like she had done exactly what it was she was supposed to do. And as the scoobies gathered under the arch between the living room and the hallway, they looked at each other - and at Buffy - with exhausted reverence. They were all alright. Things were finally back to normal.

"So, is this a typical day at the office?" asked Joyce, her lips curled in a nervous grin.

"No," Buffy smirked, "This was nothing."

Quinn leaned against the arch, breathing heavily as Rachel held her hand. "Nice moves," she said.

Buffy nodded. "You, too."

Tina sighed mournfully and grabbed the slayer by the shoulders, gripping her in a tight hug. As she slid out of the embrace, smiling sheepishly, Rachel ran forward to hug the slayer, too.

"We don't all have to hug you, do we?" Quinn asked as Rachel and Buffy pulled away from each other, "Because that's a level of intimacy I'm not really ready for with you."

Rachel rolled her eyes and smirked at her girlfriend. "That's Quinn for, 'We're happy to have you back, Buff'."

Buffy smiled and glanced at the floor. "I'm happy to be back."

xxx

"I mean, I'm not a full-fledged witch. I don't really plan on becoming one. I have NYADA and everything to worry about. Turning Quinn's hair pink is probably the most impressive thing I've done so far. Not like her. She tried communicating with the spirit world a couple weeks ago. It didn't work, but she did manage to blow out the power for her whole neighborhood."

"So you and Quinn are spending a lot of time together, huh?" Buffy murmured as she took a sip of mocha.

She, Rachel and Tina had taken a tall table at the back of The Lima Bean during lunch to talk over sugary drinks.

"Yes, we've been openly dating since April," Rachel announced proudly, "I know, it's probably difficult for you to adjust to-"

"No, no, I get it. I just… well, I don't think she likes me."

"Trust me, she likes you," Rachel rolled her eyes, "She just has a funny way of expressing affection."

"Yeah, if she really didn't like you, she would ignore you completely. Like she does with me," Tina smirked.

"Tina-" Rachel pouted.

"Rachel, it's fine. I'm perfectly happy not being on Quinn Fabray's radar. Or anybody's," she said, absentmindedly stirring her chai.

"I wouldn't say that. That waiter is giving you googly eyes," Buffy smirked as she nodded her head at a college freshman in a red smock behind the counter glancing their way.

Tina blushed. "Please don't tell me that you came back to Lima to set me up because I'm so not ready for that."

Buffy smiled sympathetically. "Is it awkward? In glee club? With… he who must not be named?"

Tina smiled gratefully at the slayer. "No," she said quietly, "Mike dropped out of glee club. I feel so bad…"

"Don't feel bad for him," said Rachel, "He dumped you for following your dreams. You don't need that kind of negativity."

"Yeah, and besides, this year is going to be the best. I can tell," Buffy nodded.

"Why in the world would you think that?" asked Tina.

"I don't know. How could it be any worse than the last two years?"

"The last two years weren't that bad," said Rachel, "I mean, despite all of the fatalities and the betrayal and the broken hearts, I've had some fun since sophomore year. I've made friends."

"And now we're seniors," said Buffy, "It's the end of an era. Which would probably be more meaningful if I was actually enrolled in school."

"Figgins will come around," said Tina, "He's probably going to let you back in during your meeting later. Why else would he want to see you again?"

Buffy shrugged and gripped her coffee in both hands. "That's what Mom is hoping. I don't know, though. Maybe he just wants to rub it in my face what a delinquent I am. It's kind of poetic justice though, right?"

"What do you mean, Buffy?" asked Rachel.

"This is what I deserve. For bailing."

"No, you have to stop blaming yourself," said Tina.

"Yeah, we forgave you," said Rachel, "We have to make allowances, for what you're going through and be adults about this."

Buffy cocked her head and smirked. "Is this moral superiority thing for your class president campaign?"

Rachel smiled. "No, but it is an added bonus. And if Figgins does let you back in school - which he will - you can help me. I still don't have a running mate, so-"

"No, I think Vice President is a little more than I can handle," said Buffy, "Even if it is just over our class."

"Maybe you're right. So, if small government is out of the question, what about dating?"

Buffy flinched and gripped her coffee tighter. "I don't know."

"I know, I know, you're still sore after… whatever it is that happened, but it's been all summer, and there's a cute new boy at school."

Buffy smirked. "I'm not saying I'm interested, but when I hear the phrase 'cute boy', I'm programmed to ask for details."

"Are you talking about Joe?" asked Tina.

"Yes," Rachel smiled excitedly, "He's not really my type, but he _is _cute, if you're into dreadlocks and barefeet."

"Granola hottie?" asked Buffy.

"Very much so. He's pretty religious, too, and not in an in-your-face, my-girlfriend-circa-2010 way. I'm not saying that he's the boy that you marry but he's at least the boy that you flirt with just because he's cute and you're single."

Buffy exhaled. "I'm not trying to snare any boys right now. That includes flirtiness. I just want to get my life back and do normal stuff."

"Flirting is normal. Right, Tina? Back me up."

Tina shrugged. "I'm not in the state of mind to tell anyone to get back on the horse, but yeah, flirting is normal. And Joe doesn't look like the type of boy to try and bring about the apocalypse."

"Maybe you have a point," said Buffy, "Flirting is normal. Dating is normal. I just… I don't know. I want to start with easy stuff. Like shopping and hanging out and going to school and saving the world from unspeakable evil. Girly stuff."

Rachel smiled encouragingly as her phone bleeped in the pocket of her purple trench. She took it out and opened up a picture that was sent to her. She widened her eyes.

"What is it?" asked Tina.

"The school newspaper. They ran an article in the student government section about Kurt. A full page about how much he cares about McKinley," she pouted, "That is propaganda! _The McKinley Times _is supposed to be an objective medium!"

"Maybe it's an opinion piece," Tina suggested.

"I have to get back to the school," she groaned, grabbing her purse, "Sorry to skip out on lunch early but I have to work on my audition for the school musical."

"School musical?" asked Buffy.

"Mr. Schuester's putting on a senior production of _West Side Story_," Tina explained.

Buffy pouted. "I feel so out of loop."

Rachel left _The Lima Bean _and hopped into her car, calling Quinn before she turned the key in the ignition.

"Hello?" Quinn greeted on the other line. 

"Hey, I'm coming back to school. Want to run lines with me as Tony?" Rachel asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Sure, but I thought you were taking lunch to catch up with Buffy?"

"I figured I should get in some extra rehearsal time. I really want to get this part."

"Are you avoiding her again?"

"No, this isn't about Buffy. Somebody texted me a picture of the school newspaper - probably Blaine, just to rub it in my face. Kurt has a full-page article in the student government section about how he loves McKinley so much that he'd come back to it even after being harassed by bullies. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"What does that have to do with _West Side Story_?"

"If I don't win this election, I have to have _something _going for me, and I can't count on winning Nationals next spring. I need to land the role of Maria."

"Don't worry, Rachel, you'll get it. You're pretty much the only one who cares about the school musical, anyways."

"I'm not as sure as you are. I just feel like maybe I've deluded myself into thinking I'm more special than I am. I need to work harder."

"Rachel, all you do is work hard."

"And obviously it's not enough."

"So I'm guessing between the campaign and glee club and _West Side_, you won't have time to practise tonight?"

"Practise what?"

"I was going to teach you some glamours, remember?"

"Oh, right. No, I don't think I'll have time for magic anytime soon."

"No, I guess not."

"Are you disappointed?"

"Honestly, yeah, but it's not your fault. I know witchcraft isn't really your thing, even though I keep telling you that you could be great at it."

"I just have so much going on."

"I know. I guess with Jesse gone, I just need to find somebody else to practise with."

xxx

"Here are the returns of your re-entry. One, you must pass a makeup test of every class you flunked last year. Two, you provide a letter of recommendation from any member of our faculty who is not a glee club instructor. Three, you complete an interview with our school counselor who must conclude that your violent tendencies are under control."

"I'm not sure I like your attitude, Mr. Figgins."

Buffy picked at a glossed fingernail and smirked at her mother. The meeting that Figgins had called that afternoon had been to allow her back into the school, after all, but the high school principal didn't look happy about it. It seemed that Joyce's many complaints to the school board were weighing on Figgins' shoulders.

"I spoke to the school board," Joyce continued, "And they told me that-"

"I'm required to provide an education for every child in the district," Figgins interrupted, "Welcome back, Ms. Summers."

Buffy smiled to herself. "One question?"

"Yes?"

"I don't have any of my stuff with me for today, but do you think I could go to glee club?"

xxx

"Look who's back!" Tina smiled broadly, waving her hands over Buffy's head with a flourish as both of them entered the choir room.

Will looked up from writing in his notebook on the surface of Brad's piano and smiled as the glee club cheered. Buffy blushed at her clapping classmates.

"We missed you, Buffy," Mercedes smiled as she sat in the front row, Sam's arm slung over her shoulder.

Buffy smiled politely. "Thanks."

"Okay, who is she, and why didn't anybody clap when _I _joined glee club?" asked Sugar, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to get a good look at Buffy.

"Sugar, this is Buffy. Buffy, Sugar," Will smirked.

"Nice to meet you," Buffy half-smiled at the younger girl.

"Probably."

"Whoa, Buddy is back!"

Buffy spun around to see Puck and Finn walking into the choir room, their backpacks hanging from one shoulder.

"It's Buff-... Okay, I know you know what my name is, so I'm not going to bother correcting you anymore," she smirked.

Puck smiled and rustled her hair as she passed. "We've had some good times, Buster."

Finn nodded to Buffy as Puck handed Will a note.

"We can't do practise today," he said to the teacher, "Football practise."

"In the middle of the day?" Will asked skeptically.

"There's a scout from OSU coming to watch Friday's game."

Will sighed. "Fine, I guess. We'll just run harmonies. Buffy, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Buffy said and huddled over with Will at the piano as the other glee clubbers chattered to each other in their seats, "What's up?"

"It's about the demon, Acathla."

Buffy's smile faltered as she remembered the apocalyptic stone demon they fought before the summer. "Gee, don't gush about my miraculous return or anything."

"I wouldn't call it miraculous. I had to make several daily phone calls to the state school board."

"_You _broke them down?"

"Don't worry about it. Worry about getting back on the proverbial horse. Where slaying is concerned, at least."

"Right. Acathla. Should we be panicked?"

"No, not at all, we just need to make sure that the vortex is totally sealed. I'm getting Shelby to help me with a binding spell."

"So what do you need me for?"

"There are some incantations during the spell that get very specific, so I need a few details about your last fight with Snix."

Buffy frowned and glanced at her classmates, happily going about their business. "Now?"

"If it's okay."

Buffy looked back at Will and shrugged, trying to look easygoing. "Fire away."

"I figured that the time the vortex was closed about a half an hour after Mike rescued Tina."

"Less. More like ten minutes."

"Was the vortex already open?"

"Barely."

"Oh. And Snix?"

Buffy shrugged. "Big fight. She got the pointy end of the sword. Acathla sucked her into Hell. That's about it."

Will nodded. "Thanks, Buffy. That should be… helpful."

xxx

"Dahling, you're simply _glowing_," Kurt crooned as Buffy squeezed past a gyrating blond girl and a guy with a pencil-thin moustache on the dancefloor and met the rest of the scoobies - sans Quinn and Rachel - in a corner of The Bronze with mismatched velvet couches pushed together in a cosy semi-circle.

Buffy giggled, "I passed my English make-up exam."

"Good for you!" exclaimed Blaine.

"Good job, Buffy," Tina said encouragingly.

"I'm just glad to be hanging with my friends. Hello, my life, how I've missed you," Buffy smirked, "I wish Rachel were here."

"She's going crazy with school stuff," Tina shrugged, "And of course, Quinn is helping her out."

"I'm surprised _you're _here," Buffy said, looking pointedly at Kurt, "Don't you have an election and a school musical to worry about, too? And Blaine told me about your dreams. Do you ever get any sleep?"

"Oh, yeah, usually at about 11:30 in Natural Science," Kurt joked, "I haven't gotten the chance to see you since your less-than-festive welcoming party."

"Look who's walking over," Tina smirked, nudging Buffy with her elbow.

Buffy looked over to see a modestly-dressed boy with dreadlocks and leather sandals approaching. It must have been Joe. Rachel was right - he _was _cute, and in a way that Buffy never imagined herself being into. He had smoky eyelashes and a silver nose ring. The perfect specimen for harmless flirting.

"Hey, guys," he greeted them, an easygoing twinkle in his eye.

"Hi, Joe, what are you doing here?" asked Tina.

"You told me if I came after eight I could meet your friend Buffy."

Buffy threw a look at Tina, whose face had fallen with guilt.

"Sorry," Joe smirked, "I'm a bad liar. It's not good for the soul. You must be Buffy."

Buffy smirked. "Hi, Joe," she said shyly.

"You like this song?" he asked, nodding to the live band on stage.

"Yeah, actually, I do."

"Well, would you like to…" he trailed off, gesturing toward the dancefloor.

"...Dance? Um, I don't know. I'm bad with… Well, thank you for asking, it's just that-"

"Look, I'm just going to stand by the dancefloor. If you change your mind, mosey on over. No pressure," he said, smiling kindly.

Buffy smiled back, grateful, and slightly embarrassed. "'Kay."

Joe walked away, hands in the pockets of his loose jeans, as Buffy's friends collectively winced at her.

"That was hard to watch," said Blaine.

"Come on, Buffy, that guy is all charm and sincerity," Kurt smiled.

"And normal. Don't forget normal," said Tina.

"Well, as normal as a previously home-schooled teenager can be," Blaine commented, "But other than that, what's stopping you?"

Buffy hesitated, but was saved from replying when Morgan Ru skipped over and threw herself over the back of Buffy's chair.

"Buffy Summers, as I live and breathe," she sighed into Buffy's ear, her warm breath smelling like mojitos.

"Nice seeing you, Morgan," Buffy smirked.

"Is there any way I can convince you to join the Cheerios this year or have you become an alternative lesbian, too?" she asked, "Ugh, don't answer that. Just take a look at that Slut-Bomb Barbie and her 70s coke dealer boyfriend grinding to Hipster Top Hundred. _Gag me_."

"Morgan, you're interacting with me in a way that implies that we're friends, and I feel that it's misleading to-" Buffy started to quip before she turned her head in the direction that Morgan was sneering, to spot the odd couple she had brushed past earlier.

Morgan snorted. "I mean, what was the last thing he danced to? KC and the Sunshine Band?"

Buffy smirked at the pencil-moustached man's embarrassingly retro dance moves, but she became overwhelmed by a familiar sensation as the man swept his arm around the blonde's waist and pulled her away from the crowd, out through the back entrance.

Buffy frowned. "I don't think that guy thrives on sunshine."

She grabbed her purse and stood, giving her friends the look. She stormed through the crowd and head toward the exit when Joe side-stepped in front of her with a wide smile.

"Hi," he greeted eagerly.

"Hi," Buffy half-smiled, and then realized what he must have thought, "Oh, no, I'm not- I just have to-..."

She trailed off, pointing to the door.

"Oh, right, sorry. My bad," Joe shrugged, stepping out of her way.

"No, it's mine, really. I have to go," she said, waving apologetically as she walked away.

Buffy darted out of The Bronze and whipped her head around the alley outside, but she couldn't see or hear the couple that she had followed out. Tina, Kurt and Blaine came bounding out behind her.

"Where'd she go?" Buffy asked aloud.

"Maybe it's nothing," said Kurt, "Maybe they're just making out."

They heard a heavy thud come from around the corner and their heads snapped in the direction of the sound. Buffy, with her stake in hand, took the lead and darted around the corner to find the 70s faux pas vampire cornering the blond girl. Before Buffy could get to him, the blonde grabbed the vamp by the throat and pushed him backward. She leapt onto an abandoned crate, jumped off of it and gave the vamp a flying kick to the face. Buffy stumbled backward, perplexed, as the vampire reeled and the blonde turned to give the slayer a grin.

"I think I've got this," she said, looking the slayer up and down, "You're Buffy, huh?"

Buffy's mouth fell open. "And you are?"

She had all of her glossy, platinum-blond hair gathered into a thick ponytail. Her button-nose and cat-eyeliner screamed sexy little victim, but her jump-kick said the opposite. The vampire gathered himself and ran up behind her, grabbing her by the shoulders, but she head-butted him from behind and slammed him into the wall.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that she's the new slayer," Tina murmured.

The blonde kicked the vamp in the gut a few more times before throwing him to the ground.

"Can I borrow that?" she asked Buffy, almost sweetly, before grabbing the stake out of her hand and slamming it into the vampire's chest.

As the vampire dusted, the girl stood up straight with a smug look on her face. "I'm Kitty."

**a/n: Thanks for reading! Kind of a short chapter but I'll make it up to you. I'm sure plenty of people will be disappointed that I didn't bring in Faith, but I decided to make Kitty the new slayer, honestly, because I've never written her before and I think she'll be funny and interesting, so I hope you'll give her a chance. Let me know what you think! xoxo**


	81. The Single White Female

**Chapter 78**

**The Single White Female**

Quinn had been typing furiously on her laptop and raking her hard-drive for pictures of Rachel when Sofia tapped softly on the bedroom door.

"Come in," said Quinn, pulling one earphone out. She was laying on her stomach on the bed in Santana's old bedroom.

Sofia pushed open the door and smiled at Quinn, taking a tentative seat on the corner of the bed. "Are you doing homework?"

Quinn shrugged and closed her laptop. "Something like that. What's up?"

"Nothing," Sofia replied, stressing her syllables, "I just want to check up on you. You've been pretty busy lately."

"Well, Buffy's back and Rachel has this election and there's the school musical… and college applications. It's kind of overwhelming."

"Of course. If you need any help… I know I'm not your mother. Both of us being here feels like we're living in someone else's home with someone else's family, but I think it's okay. Santana cared about you like a sister so I will care for you like a mother."

Quinn smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Sofia," she whispered, as her phone buzzed on her bedside table.

Sofia glanced at it and rose from the bed. "I be downstairs, watching the sexy doctor show."

Quinn smirked. "I'll watch it with you. Just give me a minute."

Sofia left the room and Quinn reached for her phone. It was from Blaine. All it said was:

**New slayer in town.**

xxx

"So, some freshman starts screaming in the hallway and my roommate comes running into the bathroom, rambling about vampires attacking Warner Hall. I mean, before last summer, I would have assumed she was high on the LSD her hippie-revival parents spike their well water with, but after everything I'd been through, I couldn't take that chance."

Buffy side-eyed Kitty in the back of Kurt's Chevy. After the girl had promptly introduced herself as a vampire slayer, the scoobies had questions. They'd piled into Kurt's car, texted Rachel and Quinn, and were set on meeting up at Will's apartment.

"So I run out into the hallway, as naked as the day God made me, and wasted the vampires," Kitty continued, "I mean, they had come for the slayer but ended up distracted by some itty-bitty-titty-committee chair member? If anything, I was insulted. Next thing I know, the corridor is covered in dust, the dean turns the lights on, everybody sees me naked and that asshole freshman starts screaming about how _I _attacked her. Me! Long story short, I get arrested and kicked out of prep school for being awesome."

Buffy gaped at the blonde next to her. She hadn't stopped talking since they met outside of The Bronze. She was from Connecticut and Buffy could tell that she came from a wealthy family, judging by the Cartier watch and the diamond earrings glinting against her platinum hair. She reminded her of someone.

"That is the coolest story I've ever heard," said Tina, staring at Kitty in awe.

Buffy nodded. "So, how did you know to come here?"

"My watcher sent me," said Kitty, "We trained all summer before he took off for England and sent me your way. Which begs the question, if I'm the chosen _one_, what's your deal?" 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Wait, why did your watcher go to England?"

"To go on some watcher retreat," Kitty shrugged as Kurt pulled up outside of Will's apartment.

The five of them shuffled upstairs, where Will ushered them into the living room, giving Kitty a probing stare. Rachel and Quinn were already waiting, clad in pyjama pants. Rachel had flecks of red and blue paint on her hands - clearly she had been torn away from a poster-making venture.

"So this is her?" asked Quinn, arms folded on the couch as she watched Kitty walk inside, "Another blonde?"

Kitty raised an eyebrow and took a look around at the scoobies. "So this is the supernatural research brigade?"

"Kitty, right?" Will asked as he shook her hand, "I'm Will Schuester, Buffy's watcher and, uh, Spanish teacher. Nice to meet you."

Kitty smirked. "Wow, why didn't _I _get elderly Justin Bieber to be my watcher?"

Buffy cleared her throat. "Kitty's watcher is in England," she said, "On a retreat."

Will glanced at his slayer and nodded. "Right. The watcher's retreat, in the Cotswolds. It's nice. I've heard."

"You've never been?" asked Kitty.

"Never been invited."

"Well, it's nothing to develop an eating disorder about. Those guys are way too stuffy. If I had _you _as a Spanish teacher, tutoring sessions would've been _muy caliente_."

Buffy's upper lip curled as Will blushed. "Well," he said, and cleared his throat, "It's probably good that you came when you did."

"I knew it," said Rachel, "There's something afoot. That's why she's here, now, right? Because there's evil brewing?"

"You'll never be bored here, Kitty," said Tina, slipping off her coat, "Lima is kind of known for its brewing evil."

"Fine by me," Kitty shrugged, "Kicking undead abomination ass all summer has kind of been the most fun I've had since the first time I made out with a seventh grade boy in the Sunday school bathroom stalls."

"So what's your stand on werewolves?" asked Blaine, joining Quinn and Rachel on Will's couch.

"Blaine is a werewolf," Buffy explained, "It's a long story."

Blaine shrugged. "I got bit."

"Apparently not that long."

"Well, try not to hump my leg and we'll be fine," said Kitty, running a finger over the dust collected on one of Will's end tables.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ward off a headache. "So what's the big, brewing evil, Will?"

"I don't know how big or evil it is, but two people have disappeared just outside of town," said Will, grabbing a copy of _The Daily Lima _from the coffee table and handing it to Buffy.

Buffy sighed. "I can patrol tomorrow, but it'll have to be a little late. I promised Mom I'd be home for dinner."

Will nodded and his eyes shifted to Kitty, who had her hands clasped expectantly.

"Oh, um, would you like to come to dinner… Kitty?" asked Buffy.

Kitty shrugged. "Yeah, why not? I've been interested in picking your brain ever since my watcher told me that you're from L.A. Also, I hear you have a story about a rocket launcher?"

Buffy stifled a smug smile. "That I do, but I don't know if I can tell that one at dinner. My mom hasn't heard it."

"Then you can tell me on patrol tomorrow night," Kitty shrugged.

Buffy hesitated. "Right. Patrol. Which we'll be doing together. Great."

xxx

"Kurt?"

Kurt snapped his eyes open, expecting to be in his bedroom, but he was in a familiar field of lavender. The sky was blue above him and leaning over him was his mother. He had driven home that night, after giving a few scoobies a ride back to their houses, and fallen to sleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, glad that there was one more slayer in town to help out.

"Mom," Kurt gasped. She looked clearer than he'd ever seen her, but he was certain this was a dream.

"I need your help, Kurt," she said urgently, her eyes wide and her dress billowing, "Come. Hurry."

Kurt got up from where he was lying on the grass and furrowed his brow at his mother. "Come where?"

"There's no time. Hurry," she said, and darted in the other direction.

Kurt ran after her, right into a wall of blinding light. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened one as the light dimmed. He was in some sort of windowless basement, with hard metal tables displaying crossbows, axes and flame-throwers. His mother wasn't anywhere in the room. It was completely abandoned, except for him, breathing shakily in the musty silence.

xxx

"I want you to run this next week."

Marcie Cross looked up from the desk. Quinn Fabray had sauntered into the room in a pair of low-rise black jeans and dropped a thin stack of paper in front of her. Marcie, the editor of the school newspaper, had set up her things in an English classroom where she'd been given permission to work during lunch and some free periods. She was annoyed to know that no-one was heeding the 'Do Not Disturb' notice on the classroom door. A classmate of hers - another school newspaper peon - was typing movie reviews on his laptop beside her, but he had started to type slower and glance up at Quinn every few seconds since the girl walked in.

"What is this?" asked Marcie.

"It's an article I wrote for the Berry campaign," Quinn said formally, her pink hair poking out of a knit beanie hat.

Marcie straightened her glasses as she flicked through the pages. "It's better if articles are e-mailed to me."

"Oh. Well, I can do that."

"Don't bother. I'm not going to run this."

Quinn frowned, deep creases forming in her forehead. "Why not? You ran that little opinion piece on Kurt Hummel!"

"Yeah, because it was a little opinion piece, and because Blaine Anderson got tickets for Mary Poppins at the Lima Town Hall Theatre for me and my family. This looks like it'll take up, like, four pages, at least, and I have to write a spread for the outcome of tonight's game."

"You're going to run the article, four pages, and you're going to post _that _picture on the front page, along with the headline… Berrying The Competition."

"That's terrible."

Quinn folded her arms over her Nirvana t-shirt. "Run it."

"Why should I?"

"Because I can give you something better than Mary Poppins tickets."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Marcie asked skeptically.

"Like a date with a football player."

Marcie peered thoughtfully at Quinn from behind her glasses and gestured to her classmate, typing at half speed on his laptop. "Give us a moment, Lionel."

Lionel shut his laptop and hopped up, scurrying out of the classroom and closing the door behind him.

"Which football player?" asked Marcie, laying her hand on Quinn's article.

Quinn pursed her lips. "Finn Hudson."

Marcie pursed her lips, considering. "You can get Finn Hudson to go on a date with me?" she asked, running her tongue over the surface of her braces.

"You interested?"

"Maybe," Marcie shrugged, "He _is _a quarterback. Then again, he's kind of soft around the middle and he did pass out in freshman year when we were dissecting a cow heart. Doesn't exactly make a girl swoon."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Really? The girl who wore a back brace up until last spring can afford to be a chooser?"

Marcie frowned, sitting back in her chair and quietly folding her arms.

"Sorry," Quinn sighed, "Look, Finn's not that bad. And Blaine is trying to set him up so he probably won't be on the market for much longer. I'd take this opportunity."

Marcie shrugged. "A date with Finn Hudson will get you… two pages and a subhead."

Quinn groaned. "Well, what about Puck?"

Marcie widened her eyes. "Noah Puckerman?"

"Yeah, he's single and we're friends. He'll go out with you, if I tell him to. What's he worth?"

Marcie swallowed. "Three pages… but the headline has to be about tonight's game."

"Tonight's game can get a subhead, Marcie. I want four pages and the headline."

"Fine. The headline, the front page… and a _two and a half_ page spread. But I want my date with Puckerman. This weekend, Breadstix, and he better dress nice."

Quinn smirked. "Deal."

xxx

"So, I've been having a little trouble with the binding spell for Acathla."

Buffy turned away from her locker to see that Will had rushed up to her, his curly hair tussled.

"Good morning, Buffy," she said quaintly as classmates strode past, chatting animatedly to each other.

Will sighed. "Good morning, Buffy. I don't have the right details to get it done. I need to know the physical location. Was Acathla facing south?"

Buffy sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she filled her backpack with textbooks for that morning's classes.

"Mm hm," she replied, tight-lipped, "Listen, I've got make-up tests to pass. Missing people. Kitty's coming over for dinner tonight and… everything's kind of overwhelming right now. Next time I kill Snix, I'll video it, 'kay?"

Will opened his mouth to protest when someone cheered, "Oh, look, there's Buffy!"

Buffy shut her locker and tightened her grip on her backpack as Blaine and Kurt quickly led Kitty down the hallway. Her long hair looked even blonder and her hips swung confidently in a tight pair of jeans. Buffy realized who she reminded her of. Herself. Herself, before Lima. Before slaying. Buffy wondered how long it would take Kitty to be a little less cute, a little less fun and a little less blond.

"Hey, guys," Buffy greeted the trio with a smile, as a disappointed Will slipped away, muttering to himself.

"We were just giving Kitty the tour," explained Blaine.

Buffy wrinkled her nose and smiled. "And why would Kitty want a tour of a suburban public high school?"

Kitty shrugged. "I like to get a feel for places. I figured that while I'm getting registered, I may as well take the tour."

"Registered?"

"Mm-hm. I have to find somewhere to go to school, may as well be here. I'd drop out right now and start bartending slash slaying full time, but I don't want to make anybody suspicious."

"So, you're going to school here now?"

"Yeah," Kitty nodded and smirked as if Buffy was a little slow, "I start on Monday."

"Wow. That's… great."

"We're letting her get acclimated," said Kurt, "Preparing her for sub-par cafeteria food and the icy pain of slushies."

"Oh, please, you're never going to get slushied," Blaine laughed as he swatted Kitty on the shoulder, "You have a very specific, coveted look about you."

"Oh, yeah?" Kitty smiled.

"Yes. You should try out for the Cheerios!" Blaine gasped.

"What are the Cheerios?"

"Cheerleaders. You can see them tonight, at the game," said Kurt.

"What game?" asked Buffy.

"Tonight's football game," said Kurt, "You didn't know about it?"

Buffy shrugged. "Guess not."

"Well, you should come. Apparently it's a big deal because a talent scout is coming to watch. There's buzz that one player might get a scholarship. Everybody's going."

"Everybody? Well, I'm still having dinner with my mom, but if you want to go-"

"Oh, come on!" Kitty waved her off, "We can stop by the game and leave early. I can't wait to meet Mommy!"

Buffy cringed. "Mommy?"

"What do you say?" Kitty asked enthusiastically.

Buffy kicked out one leg, not sure how she felt about the idea of cheering on the football team with her friends, plus Kitty.

"Why not?" she shrugged, faking a smile.

"Excuse me, ladies," said Kurt, spotting Shelby down the hall, over Buffy's shoulder, "I have to schedule a meeting with the counselor. I need help filling out those pesky financial aid forms."

"Sure," said Buffy, "Seeya."

Kurt waved and strutted down the hall, where Shelby was paused, holding a small stack of community college brochures in one arm and checking her phone.

"Ms. Corcoran?" he raised an eyebrow as he approached her.

Shelby looked away from her phone, her eyes shifting over Kurt as she took a few seconds to register who he was. "Oh. Kurt Hummel. Can I help you?"

"Maybe. I think so. I don't know. It's about… it's about my mother."

Shelby still looked lost, but she put her phone back in her blazer pocket and spoke with a hushed tone. "Do you want to speak in private?"

Kurt nodded, and Shelby led him to her office around the corner.

"Excuse the mess," she said as she tried to quickly shove brochures, forms and paperwork into neat stacks, "I don't know how Ms. Pillsbury always kept everything so organized. I guess she had a gift. Please, sit."

Kurt took a seat opposite her desk and ran his hands over his skinny jeans. "You knew my mom, right? When she was alive?"

Shelby took a seat and a deep breath before nodding. "I did. We weren't really friends but… she helped me out of a jam once or twice. Sometimes I returned the favor."

"Like when you split her soul."

"Well, yes. That spell was… highly experimental, to say the least. The only reason I agreed to do it was because I was very young and very eager to show off my talent. If she asked me to do it today… There's no way. I know better now than to mess with that stuff."

"Souls?"

Shelby nodded. "Last year was an exception."

Kurt swallowed. "I've been having dreams."

"Prophetic dreams?"

"No. More like… astral projection. I'm in my own regular dream, but there are doors that take me to other dreams. My dad's and my step-mom's. Finn's. Their dreams. Because they're near, I guess. But sometimes, my mom will be there. And I don't always have to go through a door to see her. Sometimes she comes into _my _dreams and she's always asking for help."

"Help with what?"

"I don't know, exactly. She wants me to let her go or something. It's just… there's something I've been thinking about since last year when I found out how she died. I think that a part of her is still out there, in some alternate universe that the Djinn made for her. And maybe she's still there, and she hasn't been able to rest, because apart of her is still alive in _me_."

Shelby looked skeptical, her fingers pressed together under her chin. "Even if that were possible, which I'm not saying it's not, what could we possibly do about that?"

"We could take it out, right?" Kurt asked hopefully, "Take out the part of me that has powers. The part of me that's… her."

Shelby shook her head. "Kurt, it's not like getting your tonsils out. We don't even know if the source of your powers is your mother's soul."

"It has to be," Kurt said desperately, "There's no other explanation."

"Even if we knew that for certain, even if we knew that that part of her soul was keeping her alive in this… alternate Djinn universe… even if we _knew_, for sure, that removing it would free her, it's just too dangerous."

"But you did it once."

"That was a fluke."

"So you could fluke again."

"Or, I could split part of _your _soul along with hers. Do you know what would happen to you if your soul was split?"

Kurt pursed his lips together and shook his head. "No."

"Neither do I. But I can only imagine the shell of the person you would be if that happened. You would lose part of your spirit, Kurt. Your essence-"

"Is that what happened to her?"

Shelby frowned. "Your mother?"

"Yeah. When you split her soul, and gave part of it to me, did it turn her into a shell of a person? Is that why she went to the Djinn and got herself killed?"

Shelby sat back in her chair and gave Kurt a long, concerned stare. She finally replied, "I don't know."

Kurt gripped the arms of his chair and lifted himself onto his feet, a look of resolve spreading over his face. "I have to go."

"Kurt, I know this is a difficult situation-"

Kurt shook his head. "I'm going to be late for the West Side Story auditions, so… I have to go. Thanks for your help."

Shelby frowned as she watched him stride out of her office, his satchel banging against his thigh as he stormed off.

xxx

"Hey! Number twenty!" Quinn called from the edge of the bleachers.

She leaned over the railing in the front row as people filled up the seats and the McKinley marching band played a brassy rendition of _Blurred Lines_. The Titans were gathered around the benches, watching eagerly as Coach Beiste chit-chatted with the unfamiliar man who was rumored to be a talent scout for Ohio State. Puck looked up at the bleachers, squinting his eyes in the brightness of the floodlights to see Quinn waving.

"What?!" he called to her, barely audible.

"I need a favor!" she yelled through cupped hands.

He cupped a hand against his ear like he couldn't hear her.

"I need a FAVOR!"

Puck just shrugged, holding his helmet limp in one hand.

"I'll call you!" she said, waving him away as she turned her thumb and pinky into a hand-phone.

She turned away from the field and walked back to one of the middle rows of the bleachers, where the scoobies were sitting, shivering in the cold Friday night air. Quinn shuffled through the row and squeezed in between Rachel and Tina.

"It's cool you could come out tonight," Quinn said to her girlfriend as the brunette vigorously thumbed her cellphone.

"Mm hm," Rachel murmured back, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, not looking away from her phone.

"What is she doing?" Quinn asked Tina.

Tina glanced over at Rachel, holding tight to her cardboard bucket of popcorn. "Drafting her election day speech. Popcorn?"

Quinn frowned, grabbed a handful of Tina's popcorn and leaned forward to see Buffy, Kitty, Kurt and Blaine shivering on the same row.

"Hey, Kitty," Quinn greeted as she chewed.

Kitty nodded politely at her and let her eyes trail back to the football field as the Cheerios sprinted gingerly out to start a performance. Morgan took the front and center spot and gave Kitty a quick wave before they began their routine. Kitty waggled her fingers back and Buffy eyed her suspiciously.

"You know Morgan?" she asked.

"Yeah," Kitty smirked, "I auditioned for the Cheerios while you were taking your make-up test."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "And…?"

"And I start next week."

"You got in?!" Buffy asked, surprised.

"Congratulations, Kitty," Blaine smiled, "You know, Quinn and Buffy used to be Cheerios."

"No way," Kitty guffawed, ogling the two girls.

"It was a phase," Quinn said dismissively.

Buffy shrugged at Kitty. "It was a favor."

Kitty laughed. "Well, I'm looking forward to it. I always thought I looked good in uniform. And those football players. Meow! What I wouldn't give to have one of those boys make me purr. Mohawk is just asking for it."

Quinn wrinkled her nose. "Puck?"

Kitty's smile faded. "What? Do you two have history?"

Quinn shrugged. "Kind of. We have a daughter."

Kitty's eyes bulged out at Quinn. "Whoa. Okay, off limits."

"No, it's fine if you want to go for Puck. Just wait until he goes on a date with this girl Marcie first. It's kind of a favor he owes me."

"It sounds like a complicated situation, so no thanks. How about Big and Tall? I could make him carry me around like Cleopatra."

Buffy snorted as Quinn wrinkled her nose again.

"Another ex?" Kitty asked skeptically, "What, did he father Lovechild Number Two?"

Quinn smirked. "No. But yeah, he is my ex. And Rachel's."

Kitty frowned. "You and your girlfriend both have the same ex-boyfriend?"

Quinn nodded tightly.

Kitty sighed. "Then I'm out. The last thing I need right now is to turn into a lesbian. Okay, how about Asian Sensation down there? I could dig a little oriental spice."

Tina shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Buffy cleared her throat. "I wouldn't."

"He yours?" asked Kitty.

"No," Buffy nudged her head at Tina.

"Oh, ew, I thought he was your brother," Kitty frowned, disappointed, "You glee clubbers date way above your league. No offense. I mean, Buffy, do they leave you any play at all?"

Buffy smirked. "Well, I used to date number 15," she said, spotting Sam's head of blond hair down on the field.

Kitty squinted at the players. "My God. It's like a cesspool of show choir incest. I have to go get a hot dog and try not to hurl."

"We'll get hot dogs for everybody," Kurt said, suddenly alert, "Everybody want hot dogs?"

"Not really," Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"Quinn, will you help me and Kitty carry all the hot dogs?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow and glanced at Rachel, who was still engrossed in her phone. She shrugged and stood from her seat. "Sure."

"I can help," said Blaine.

"No, stay," said Kurt, laying a hand on Blaine's shoulder, "You can tell me if something exciting happens."

"Oh… kay," Blaine replied as Quinn, Kurt and Kitty shuffled away.

The three of them headed down from the bleachers toward the short, fat concession stand, when Kurt grabbed Quinn's arm and pulled her back a step, letting Kitty walk forward, toward the hot dog vendor.

"What are you doing?" asked Quinn.

Kurt moved close beside her so she could hear him over the whooping and cheering as a whistle blew and the game started. "I need your help."

"With what?" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"A spell."

A spark of interest flashed in her eyes. "What kind of spell?"

Kurt blew out cold air through his nose. "I can't talk about it here, but it might be dangerous."

Quinn looked suspicious. "How dangerous? Kurt, what's going on?"

"Come over to my place tomorrow. I'll explain everything, okay?"

Quinn frowned. "Okay," she sighed, and glanced back at Kitty, who was standing beside the concession stand talking animatedly with the new kid, Joe Hart, "Looks like Kitty's making friends."

"She's really something, huh?" Kurt smirked.

"She reminds me of me," Quinn sighed, "Well, two years ago. They'd be cute together, right? Kitty and Joe?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. An opposites attract sort of thing."

Buffy appeared at Quinn's side, looking over the pair's shoulders at Kitty and Joe, laughing together by the concession.

"Hey, Buff," Kurt greeted.

"Hey. What are those two talking about?" asked Buffy, nodding her head over at Kitty and Joe.

Quinn shrugged. "We don't know. We were just saying how cute they would be together."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "But only if you're done with him," he said to Buffy, who promptly looked offended, "Not that you _used _him…"

Buffy grimaced and pushed past Kurt and Quinn, squeezing through classmates with their faces painted red and white, cheering on the football players, to get to Kitty.

"Hey," she greeted them both loudly, over the sounds of the commencing game.

"Hey, Buffy," Joe smirked, his hooped, silver nose ring glinting under the floodlights, "Kitty's been telling me tall tales."

Buffy smiled and nodded. "She's funny, but she's leaving."

"We just got here," Kitty pouted.

"We have to go," Buffy said adamantly, "My mom's waiting in the parking lot."

"Okay," Kitty sighed, and waved at Joe, "Bye, Avatar."

Joe snorted. "Bye, Kitty."

xxx

Finn wiped the sweat from his brow in the locker room during halftime as he took off his helmet. His forearms were sore but he would play through the pain. The whole team had been mumbling about the talent scout since practise started late in the summer, but Finn hadn't paid much attention to it until now. College had still seemed distant, but now that his friends were getting ready for interviews and his step-brother was putting together a repertoire and campaigning for class president, he'd felt a sudden onslaught of guilt. Getting a football scholarship seemed like his only shot to prove that he wasn't a total slacker.

Puck rounded a row of lockers with a wide smile spread across his face and beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

"Pumped to get back out there?" he asked energetically, his eyes sparkling.

Finn pulled a crooked smile. "Yeah, not as pumped as you, though."

"Come on, man, get into the Titans spirit!" Puck laughed, punching Finn playfully with one fist while holding his helmet in the other, "Today's a good day. The McKinley boys are blessed."

Finn furrowed his brow. "Are you high?"

"No, man!" Puck laughed, "I'm just psyched. Look, don't say anything to anybody else, but Coach Beiste was talking to that Cooter Menkins guy out there and she says he wants to give _me _the scholarship. Can you believe that?!" 

The light seemed to dim in front of Finn's eyes, but his smile widened artificially. "Seriously? That's… How does she know?"

"He told her. They're hooking up or something, I don't know, man. But how crazy is this?! I think my luck is finally turning around."

Finn smiled as he shoved his helmet back onto his matted hair. "I'm happy for you, man."

xxx

"So you're a slayer, too? That's… interesting," Joyce commented, confusion written on her face as she served up diced carrots and broccoli to Kitty's plate, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," Kitty smirked as she grabbed a hot bun off of a serving plate.

"Mom," Buffy chirped, indicating to her empty dish.

"Just a second, honey," Joyce said, distracted now as she peered down at Kitty, her brow buckled, "Buffy never talks that way about slaying. Why do you love it?"

"Well, when I'm fighting, it's like the whole world goes away and only one thing matters," said Kitty, tearing the bun apart with her hands, "I'm gonna win. They're gonna lose. I like that feeling."

Buffy raised an eyebrow as she spooned herself some mashed potatoes. "Sure beats that dead feeling when they win and you lose."

Kitty smirked. "I don't let that kind of negative thinking get to me."

"Right," Joyce nodded in agreement as she took her seat at the table, "That could get you hurt. You know, Buffy can be awfully negative sometimes. See, you gotta fight that."

Buffy ran her fork over a bed of mashed potatoes, like a starchy zen garden. "Workin' on it," she said dismissively.

"Oh, Kitty, can I get you something to drink?" asked Joyce.

"Sure. How about a gin and tonic? Heavy on the lime?" Kitty asked as Joyce rose from the table and paused, taken aback. Kitty laughed charmingly and waved her hand at Buffy's mother. "I'm kidding! Any kind of diet soda you have would be great."

Joyce laughed, pressing her hand to her chest in relief. "Kitty, you are too much!" she smiled fondly, and practically skipped back into the kitchen.

"She's pretty cool," Kitty said earnestly as she ate a forkful of potatoes.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at the blonde, guaging to see if she was being sarcastic. "Best mom ever," she replied flatly, "Excuse me."

Buffy rose from the table with her own empty cup and walked into the kitchen, where Joyce was pouring diet cherry Pepsi into a glass, still smiling to herself.

"I like that girl, Buffy," she said without looking up.

Buffy nodded. "She's very personable. She gets along with my friends, my mom, my not-boyfriend. Personally, I think it's kind of creepy."

Joyce sighed, exasperated, and put her hands on her hips. "Does anybody else think that Kitty's creepy?"

"Well, no. But I'm the one getting _Single White Female_d."

"It's probably a good thing that you were an only child."

Buffy blushed. "I'm just getting my life back. I'm not really willing to go halfsies."

"Well, there are some things I'd be happy to see you share. Like slaying. I mean, the two of you fighting is safer than one, right?"

"I guess," Buffy shrugged, pouting.

"And you heard her. She loves slaying. Couldn't she, I don't know, take over?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No-one can take over for me. That's not how it works."

"But you're going to college next year," said Joyce, leaning over the island counter.

"Mom, the only way you get a new slayer is when the old slayer dies," Buffy explained wearily.

Joyce paused, her face fallen as she stared at her daughter. Buffy's stomach turned when she realized what she had just said.

Joyce furrowed her brow. "When did you die? You never told me you _died_-"

Buffy waved her hands. "It was just for a few minutes-"

"Oh, I hate this," Joyce sighed, beginning to panic, "I hate your life."

"Mom, I-"

"Look, I know you didn't choose this," she said, trying to remain level-headed, "I have tried to march in the slayer pride parade but I can't lose you, Buffy. Not again."

Buffy frowned and walked around the island to hug her mother. "You're not going to. You're right. Two slayers are better than one."


	82. The Article

**Chapter 79**

**The Article**

"It's official. Puck has a full ride to OSU-Lima. So… I'm happy for him. Really, I am."

Celeste managed a stiff nod across the table from Finn. Blaine had made a reservation for them at Breadstix that weekend, during dinner when they dimmed down the lights and the jazz band played. Celeste had been impressed - she didn't even know you could make reservations at Breadstix, but here she was, on a date with the school's quarterback. She couldn't believe how lucky she'd been when she was set up with Finn Hudson, but she was beginning to realize why he had trouble getting dates. All he'd done all evening was ramble on about that night's football game and how his friend, Noah Puckerman, had gotten a scholarship from the talent scout in attendance.

"He's my best friend and… he deserves it. I guess. I mean, it's not like he's ever had a real interest in going to college but… neither have I, I guess, so who cares, right? He'll go to OSU with a bunch of our friends and I'll just… work in my stepdad's auto-shop, I guess," he continued as he absentmindedly crushed a breadstick in between his thumb and his forefinger and sprinkled the crumbs onto his salad plate.

Celeste cleared her throat, about to tell Finn that she missed out on a cheerleading scholarship because of her neck injury, in an attempt to comfort him, before he interrupted her.

"I mean, maybe deep down, part of me feels that Puck just lucks into everything, you know? It's not like he really worked for this scholarship, right? He's just happy he has it so that he doesn't have to worry about what he's gonna be doing for the next four years. He'll just be partying and playing football until he's twenty-two, which is fine, but I mean, some of us have to work to get where we are, you know, and even then-"

"Who had the macaroni and shrimp?" asked a dark-haired waitress as she turned to their table with a tray of food.

Finn blinked up at her. "Oh, me."

She smiled and laid down their bowls of pasta. "So you have the penne rosa, and the gentleman across the room sent over a plate of calamari."

Finn narrowed his eyes at the plastic basket of food that looked like thick onion rings and peered across the room to see Puck waving at him from a booth, smiling widely as he sat across from a ginger girl in his World Geography class. Finn gave him a little wave and frowned down at the calamari. He didn't even know what calamari _was_.

"Well, that's… nice. Really classy of him, to send over appetizers like he's… I don't know, some sort of adult who has his life together. I mean, am I overreacting? Am I taking this too personally or is he shoving this in my face? I bet he doesn't even know what calamari is, either."

Celeste was about to tell him what calamari was, but he continued to rant to himself, so she just started to eat.

xxx

"Didn't we do this street already?" Kitty whined.

The two blondes were circling the perimeter of Lima's southernmost area - one could even call it downtown if it weren't slightly less eventful than Wednesday night at Chili's.

"That's the thing about vampires," Buffy said sanctimoniously, "They'll hit up a place even after we've been there. It's like they have no manners."

Kitty sighed as they walked step-by-step, fingering their stakes and listening for something other than the distant thumping of a late night Bronze.

"You've been doing this the longest, I guess," Kitty shrugged.

"I have."

"Maybe too long."

Buffy scrunched up her face as they turned the corner into an alleyway. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Kitty smirked, almost smug. "Nothing."

Buffy stopped walking and narrowed her eyes at the younger girl. "Do you have a problem with me?"

Kitty whirled around the face the slayer, a mocking smile still on her face. "No, I don't. But I have been wondering this whole time what yourproblem is with _me_, and I think I just figured it out. Either, you're threatened by me, or you're just flat out jealous."

Buffy almost reeled back. "Excuse me?!"

"Did I stutter, Smurfette? You're either threatened that there's a new slayer in town who may or may not steal the title of Strongest, Shortest Blond Bitch out from under your nose, or you're jealous that, I don't know, I'm prettier, funnier, better-"

"Get over yourself, okay? I am not _jealous_. Sure, I may not fight vampires in the nude or flirt with everyone I meet-"

"Well, maybe you should start, because obviously something in your bottle needs uncorking. Have you even gotten laid one time since Santana?"

Buffy grimaced. "What do you know about Santana?"

Kitty shrugged. "Just what your friends have said. Big love. Big loss. How everyone has moved on except you. I mean, what is this, Twilight? Get over it."

Buffy balled her fists and stared at the pavement beneath them. "I've got an idea. How about I don't hear anything from you, about Santana or anything else in my life, ever again?"

Kitty smirked. "What are getting so worked up over?"

"Why are your lips still moving?"

Kitty barked out a laugh. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"Hardly. Do you really think you could take me?"

Kitty's eyes wandered over Buffy's shoulders. "Yeah, but let's just hope _they _can't."

She pushed Buffy out of the way and lunged towards two vampires who ran toward them. Buffy fell against a brick building as Kitty got into blows with one vamp and the other started to corner her. Buffy grabbed an abandoned trash can from beside a dumpster and shoved it over one of the vampires heads as Kitty continued to fight hers. As Buffy removed her stake from inside her sleeve, another vamp pounced from behind and lifted her up, throwing her against the dumpster. She kicked out at his face as he neared and Buffy looked up to see Kitty still punching the bloodied, incapacitated vampire.

"Kitty, stake him already and give me a hand!" she called to the other slayer, just as one of the vamps wriggled out from the trash can and pounced on Buffy's back, knocking her stake to the ground.

He wrapped his hands around her neck as she struggled to reach the stake and said, "For Kakistos we live. For Kakistos you'll die."

"Kitty!" Buffy yelled as she continued to reach for her stake, just inches away.

Kitty was still punching out the vampire in a mad rage when Buffy gripped the stake and leaped up in time to stake both vamps on her tail. She grimaced as she turned to the younger slayer, still beating her vampire to a pulp. Buffy grabbed the small blonde from behind and tossed her aside, staking the beaten vamp in one swift motion. Kitty panted and furrowed her brow at Buffy and the now lack of vampires.

"What is wrong with you?" Buffy demanded, getting splinters from gripping her stake so tightly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Kitty.

"I'm talking about you going all Grand Theft Auto on that vampire."

"If vampire cruelty upsets you then you're probably in the wrong line of work," Kitty chuckled.

"I think you like it a little too much."

"I was doing my job!"

"The job is to slay them, not to recreate a scene from Pulp Fiction while I get cornered and almost killed!"

Kitty smirked, smug. "I thought you could handle yourself."

xxx

Kurt had his head bowed over the desk in his bedroom, working through some basic calculus when Quinn knocked on the door.

"Oh, hey, Quinn. I'm glad you came," he said, smiling nervously as he rose from his seat, rubbing his hands against his zebra-stripe jeans.

"Yeah, your dad let me in," she said, closing the door behind her as her messenger bag clanged against her hip.

"I didn't even hear the doorbell," said Kurt, "I'm trying to catch up with this homework Ms. Laurie sprang on us-"

"Can we just cut to the chase?" asked Quinn, her eyebrows knitted, "What do you need my help with?"

Kurt sighed. "Okay, well, you may want to sit down," he said, taking a seat at the edge of his bed.

Quinn reluctantly joined him, staring into the boys' eyes.

"It's kind of a complicated situation, but basically, I need you to remove a piece of my soul."

Quinn bugged her green eyes out at the boy, a stray spike of pink hair falling over her face. "What are you talking about?"

Kurt took a deep breath and relayed all the details of his mother's death, of the Djinn, of his astral dreams and his theory that his mother can't be laid to rest until the rest of her soul is set free.

"I think that if it's pieced back together, she'll be able to go… I don't know. To Heaven. To rest, finally."

Quinn brought her fingers to her temple, her brain on overload. "So, you want me to take the piece of her soul out of your soul and… set it free?"

"Basically."

"_Basically_? Kurt, you have to admit that this is insane. First of all, how can you know for sure that your mother is in some alternate universe gone awry, and how can you possibly know that taking away your powers will save her?"

"I have to try, Quinn. You don't know what it's like when she asks for my help. I know that something is wrong. Something in her universe is wrong and she needs to… die."

Quinn sighed deeply. "God, Kurt… Do you have any idea what you would be risking? If something went wrong… And how would I even go about… It might not even do anything, or it could make things so much worse. And what would we do with it… It's just a really complicated situation."

Kurt held up a hand, silencing her rambling. "I know it sounds like a lot, but if we take time and look into it, figure out what we have to do… We have to do _something_. I can feel how tired she is."

"And you're willing to compromise a piece of your soul being damaged in the crossfire? Do you have any idea what would happen to you? Because I don't. What if I lost part of your soul, or all of it! There's no way I could pull this off, Kurt. Why don't you ask Shelby if she can help you?"

Kurt pursed his lips and sat on his hands, looking at the floor in frustration as a look of resolve washed over Quinn's features.

"You did," she continued, "You went to Shelby and she said no, didn't she? She said it was too dangerous."

"She just doesn't want to be held responsible if something goes wrong," Kurt snapped, desperate.

"Oh, but I do? I'll be A-okay messing around with your soul? It's your _soul_, Kurt."

"No, it's _her _soul," said Kurt, standing from the bed, his face hot. He was so frustrated he was close to tears. He thought Quinn would be happy to flex her magical muscles. He hadn't noticed she'd become so _ethical_.

Quinn sighed sympathetically. "I'm sorry about your mom, Kurt, but… it's just too dangerous."

"So what am I supposed to do?" he asked quietly, folding his arms over his button-down.

"Maybe she's happy wherever she is. Maybe your dreams are just… anxiety attacks or something."

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You don't understand," Quinn continued, "It's not like me blowing out all the light bulbs. I'd be way in over my head. I could really hurt you."

"It's not like you've never done anything like this. You could have returned Santana's soul, if you'd had enough time."

"We don't know that," Quinn said quietly, through gritted teeth. She didn't like to be reminded of her biggest disappointment. "Besides, we had nothing to lose. I'm sorry, Kurt, I can't."

"Quinn-"

"I have to go help Rachel with her speech, okay? Just… don't do anything stupid."

xxx

"Congratulations, Berry. You've got my vote."

Rachel turned away from her open locker, quietly mumbling to herself the final paragraph of her acceptance speech for election day. It was only a week away and she was barely reaching four hours of sleep a night, between practising two speeches, working on policies, decorating posters, rehearsing for glee club, and for _West Side Story_, and keeping up her impeccable GPA. She could tell that her friends, and especially Quinn, were getting tired of her determination, but she was so close to being elected, she could taste it.

"Huh?" she furrowed her brow at Morgan Ru, who had strutted up to her in her crisp Cheerios uniform with a crumpled newspaper in her hand.

"I'm voting Israeli this election," Morgan announced proudly, "I was going to vote for that nasally little mob daughter because she promised to upgrade all of the computers in the tech room to Macs, but I like your ideas better."

Rachel raised her thick eyebrows in confusion. "You do?"

"Yeah, I'm not usually one for idealism, but I think you could do something good for this school. At least, maybe when we graduate we could say that our class had the least amount of Lima losers."

Rachel smiled widely, then faltered. "Is this a trick?"

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't apart of some mean prank?"

Morgan dropped a hip and rolled her eyes. "Don't make it weird, Berry. I just came over to tell you that I was voting for you, so if you were going to do something totally lame like send an Edible Arrangement to everyone on your side, you can put me on the mailing list and remember that I _don't _like melon balls."

Rachel let her smile spread across her face again. "Duly noted. Thank you, Morgan, I'm surprised you'd be so gracious. No offense. Which of my policies was it that interested you so much? Was it the hardwood floors in the Chem lab because full disclosure, you won't be able to wear heels of any kind in there once we take off the linoleum."

"What? No," Morgan wrinkled her nose, "I read your article in the school newspaper."

Rachel's smile faded slightly. "What article?" 

"The one your Courtney Love girlfriend wrote," said Morgan.

She raised the crumpled newspaper in her hands and straightened it out to show a picture of Rachel spread across the first page - her at Sectionals in sophomore year, a little more baby-faced, but pretty, in a black dress with a red ribbon, basking in the dim spotlight just before New Directions started their winning routine. The headline read, 'Berry-ing the Competition'.

"What is this?" Rachel demanded, grabbing the newspaper from Morgan's hand, her eyes pouring over the words.

Morgan shrugged. "I only got the dumb paper this week because I thought they would mention the Cheerios since I thought, for sure they would have a front page spread on Friday's game, and our routine was totally on point. But, there you were, your nose front and center. To be totally honest, I only read your article because I was looking for ammunition against you and your lame little glee club, but I ended up actually, for a second, thinking you were kind of… I don't know, cool."

Rachel ran through the article, picking up bits and pieces that showed off her accomplishments, like her glee club trophies, her dance competitions when she was a kid, her hand-made show choir outfits, her success with the school concert in honor of Ms. Pillsbury. It went on and on about Rachel's ambitions to become a star, to study at NYADA and land a role on Broadway. She skipped to the last paragraph, that begged the question to McKinley students about whether they want a future celebrity to remember them fondly or to tell stories about what losers they were on Good Morning America.

"I mean, obviously you're a super nerd and everything, but I figure if you know what it's like to really want to be the best, maybe you'd care more about funding for cheerleading and stuff than Lady Boy Hummel and Arianna Huffington. Maybe with you, the Cheerios could be on Fox Sports again."

Rachel looked back up at Morgan. "Can I keep this?" she asked, gesturing to the newspaper.

Morgan frowned. "Yeah, I was gonna throw it away, anyways. It's, like, fifty cents."

Rachel smiled and closed her locker, swinging her handbag over her shoulder as her eyes remained trained on the newspaper.

"Thanks," she said absently, "I'll send that Edible Arrangement. No melon balls."

xxx

"Maybe you just have to accept that you and Kitty have different styles."

"_Styles_? This isn't stripes versus polka dots."

Buffy and Tina slowly ambled alongside each other on their way to Homeroom, both girls sipping frappucinos out of Lima Bean cups.

"She's not playing with a full deck," Buffy continued, her ponytail bouncing, "She has almost no deck. She has a three."

"She killed one, didn't she?"

"No, she wailed on one for eternity before _I _finally put him out of his misery."

Tina sighed. "It sounds like she just got a little carried away. Maybe she's putting all her energy into slaying because she doesn't really have a life in this town yet."

"She doesn't need a life. She has mine."

"Buffy, I think you're being a little-"

"No, I'm being a lot," Buffy sighed in defeat, "I know. But she nearly got us both killed. I mean, they were a serious pack of vamps. Really hell-bent on fighting a couple of girls. The one who almost bit me kept talking about kissing toast. He lived for kissing toast."

Tina screwed up her face in a mix of confusion and concentration. "Huh?"

"Or maybe it was taquitos."

"Do you mean… Kakistos?"

"Who?" asked Buffy, but Tina had stopped walking, standing still a few steps behind.

"Kakistos," she said under her breath and looked back up at Buffy, alert.

Buffy glanced at her classmates flooding into Homeroom as the bell rang, and turned back to Tina. "Is it something bad?"

"It's Greek. It means worst of the worst," Tina said gravely, and spoke closer to Buffy, "It's also the name of a vampire. Legend says that his hands and feet are cloven, like the devil."

The girl dug her phone out of her pocket, where she'd made dozens of note on demonology into ebooks, and begun flipping through, looking for the right passages. Buffy stuck her tongue in her cheek, mulling an idea over.

"So, this Kakistos guy shows up right around the same time my new bestest little sister comes to town," she noted thoughtfully.

Tina looked up from her phone, curious. "You think he and Kitty are connected?"

"Tina, there are two things I don't believe in. Coincidence and leprechauns."

Tina rolled her dark brown eyes. "It's in the realm of possibility that they just happened to come into your life around the same time."

Buffy pouted. "Okay, but I was right about the leprechauns, right?"

Tina paused. "As far as I know."

"Good. I will get Will to contact Kitty's watcher in England, and I'll talk to Kitty. See if Khaki Trousers-"

"Kakistos."

"Kakistos rings a bell… or an alarm."

xxx

Quinn dragged her backpack into Shelby's office, wearing a too-tight pink day-dress that belonged to Rachel, cinched at the waist with a ripped strip of black cloth, her ashy pink hair in disarray.

"What's up?" she asked, nodding once at the guidance counselor.

Shelby looked up from where she was slouched on her leather swivel chair, a lock of her dark hair hanging loose as she peered over a small stack of stapled papers, her forehead wrinkled in concentration.

"Quinn," she sighed expectantly, dropping the paper on her desk and straightening her posture.

"Mr. Schuester said you wanted to talk to me," the girl said, one hip dropped.

"Yeah, have a seat. I was just looking through some college essays," said Shelby, pushing her hair behind her ears.

Quinn rested her backpack against the side of Shelby's desk and took a seat across from her. "You gonna push some college brochures on me?" she asked.

Shelby smirked and rummaged through the papers on her desk. "Maybe. I wanted to talk to you about this."

She found a newspaper page amongst her other paperwork. It was just the front page of the school newspaper, with Rachel's image blazing across the front. Quinn widened her eyes a little.

"Am I in trouble for a stupid article?" she asked, "What's the big deal? Everybody liked it, and Marcie got her date with Puck. It's just a school newspaper-"

"Quinn, you're not in trouble," Shelby laughed, raising a hand, "Don't jump into defensive mode."

Quinn sat back. "Oh. Okay."

"Why didn't you tell me you could write?" 

Quinn frowned down at the newspaper. "I can't. I mean… I don't. I'm good at English, but it's not something I announce to people."

"You never thought about being a writer or a journalist?"

Quinn shrugged. "I won a few writing competitions in elementary school but my parents always said that most writers were unemployed, liberal tree-huggers."

"Well, I know you've been on the fence about most of the colleges I've recommended, but OSU-Lima offers scholarships for English majors-"

Quinn scoffed. "Thanks, but I'm not really interested in staying in Lima."

Shelby nodded. "I know, you're thinking about moving to New York with Rachel. Look, I'm not trying to stop you from going, but I think at this point in the year, you really need to think about _your _future. Not your future with Rachel. You have to think about what you want out of life and how you're going to get that, regardless of anyone else's plans."

Quinn pursed her lips and stared thoughtfully at the surface of Shelby's desk. Truthfully, she didn't spend a lot of time thinking about what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go after high school. She'd been looking at it like a choice between moving for Rachel or staying for Beth. She didn't really know what she wanted to do when she took other people out of the equation.

"And while I have this brochure, you may as well look at the scholarship. See if you'd like to apply," said Shelby, interrupting her from her thought as she slid a thick brochure for OSU-Lima's scholarships across the desk.

"Thanks," Quinn said, taking it, "I'll think about it."

Shelby smiled. "That's all I ask."

Quinn clutched her bag and walked back into the hallway, her eyes scanning the glossy front of the brochure. They tried so hard to make OSU look Ivy league, with red brick and fountains in the courtyards.

"Quinn!"

Quinn snapped her head up to see Rachel bounding toward her in a pair of well-worn black booties, her arms wide open. Quinn grunted as her girlfriend tackled her with a hug, a crumpled newspaper tight in one of her fists.

"Rachel?" Quinn smiled as the brunette pulled back and shook her hair out of her face.

"I read the article," she smiled, "And I've decided that you're the best girlfriend on the face of the universe."

Quinn glanced at the newspaper in Rachel's hand and grinned. "You like it?"

"Of course I like it, Quinn!" Rachel gushed, "The way you talk about me is so beautiful it made me fall in love with myself all over again."

Quinn laughed. "Hopefully it rubs off on everybody else. I really want you to win this thing."

"I think it's working," Rachel said, clenching her fists in excitement, "Morgan Ru said she's voting for me!" 

"Morgan said that?" Quinn widened her eyes, "Well, you know, if Morgan's voting for you, all of the other Cheerios are. So, now you have glee club, and the Cheerios, and all of their football boyfriends-"

"Oh, Quinn, this is so wonderful!"

"Yeah, now you won't have to kill yourself with this campaign."

"Oh, there's still plenty of work to do."

Quinn's smile faded. "There is?"

"Of course. Now that the Cheerios see me as a real leader, I need to change all of my policies. I need to find funding for competitive clubs and I need to organize more pep rallies and-"

"Rachel, Rachel," Quinn sighed, waving her hands, "Can't you just chill out, for a second? You've got this."

Rachel nodded. "You're right. Let's go to lunch, somewhere else. Somewhere nice."

Quinn smiled. "Food court at the Lima Mall?"

Rachel grinned, rolling her eyes. "Sure. The food court. My treat, okay? You deserve it for being so supportive."

Quinn shrugged and looped her arm into Rachel's, stuffing her brochure into the side-pocket of her backpack as they walked out of school together.

xxx

"Hi!"

Buffy whirled around in the hallway she had been storming down to see Joe had caught up to her in his leather sandals, a wide smile on his earnest face.

"Joe," Buffy raised her eyebrows, "Hey."

"How are you?" he asked politely, still smiling, eager.

"Uh, fine. Look, I have to-"

"I know, be somewhere else," he said quickly, "Just think of this as my last ditch effort. I realize that any more following you around and I'll be considered a stalker. But I was thinking you, and me, and coffee. Or maybe a Hitchcock festival playing at Lima Fields all this weekend. My parents never let me watch horror movies so now I'm rebelling with some old school thrillers."

Buffy started grinning. "You know what? Come to think of it, I haven't really given a fair chance to Hitchcock. I like what I've seen of him so far so… maybe it'd be nice to see a little more."

Joe smiled even wider and breathed out heavily, like he was relieved. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. I, uh, got you something."

Buffy wrinkled her brow as he rummaged in his knapsack and removed a small pink jewellery box. "Joe…"

"It's not a big deal. I got it at this cool vintage thrift shop downtown. The shop-owner said it signifies friendship. I wanted you to have it."

He handed her the jewellery box and she opened it, her smile falling when she saw the Claddagh ring inside. The heart, hands and crown cast in silver that looked almost identical to the one she hid under her pillow. Her hands went slack at the sight of it and the box fell to the floor, the ring clattering onto the ground.

"I can't," Buffy snapped, as Joe bent down to retrieve the box and ring, "I can't do this."

Joe looked crestfallen as he stood back up. "Okay," he said under his breath, "I get the message."

He walked away, leaving Buffy to stare at the ground on her own, the air on her skin making her shudder.

"Buffy-"

Buffy shook as a hand touched her shoulder. She looked up to see that Sam had approached her, his blond hair falling over one eye as he looked down at her with concern.

"Sam, hi…" she breathed, sniffling, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look a little… frazzled," he noted, his brow still pulled.

"It's okay," Buffy shrugged, breathing through her nose, "It's nice to see you, though. Outside of glee club."

"Yeah," he sighed, looking guilty, "I know I haven't hung out with the scoobies much lately. I just… I think being your friend might make Mercedes uncomfortable-"

"No, I get it. That's fine. I just… I guess I'm confused. Last year, you said you might be moving. What happened?"

Sam nodded. "My parents moved, but I stayed. I'm actually staying with Puck."

"Really? Why did you decide to stay?"

Sam hesitated, and shrugged. "I didn't want to leave Mercedes."

Buffy opened her mouth, but couldn't think of a reply, a little floored. "So, how fast did you move on, exactly?" 

Sam frowned. "Buffy, that's not fair-"

"No, I know. I know it's not, I knew it as soon as I said it. I'm sorry. It's just been so… Look, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, maybe."

"Buffy…" Sam trailed off as she walked briskly away.

She rounded the corner and bumped right into Mr. Schuester, who spilled a drop of coffee from his World's Best Teacher mug.

"Whoa, Buffy, hey," he greeted her, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Really? You look really tired-"

"I am, so just… What's up?" she asked, sighing heavily with her hands on her hips.

"Tina told me about Kakistos."

"Oh, yeah. Did she find anything?" Buffy asked, alert, and happy to have a distraction.

"Not that I know of, but I managed to contact to watchers' retreat in the Cotswolds."

"Did you talk to Kitty's watcher?"

Will sighed. "No, I didn't."

"Well, why not?"

"Buffy, her watcher's dead."


	83. The Bribe

**Chapter 80**

**The Bribe**

Kurt padded downstairs, barefoot, in a pair of dark, houndstooth pajama pants and a Ziggy Stardust t-shirt, pinching the bridge of his nose as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. His dreams were getting more intense and he decided that if he was going to lose sleep, he may as well do it on his own terms. He walked into the kitchen to find the lights were already on and Finn was sitting at the extended counter in jeans and a white t-shirt, concentrated on his laptop.

"Hey," Kurt greeted him, retrieving a glass from the cabinet and pouring himself some water.

"Hey," Finn replied, looking away from the computer, "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. I guess I'm just nervous about this election."

He didn't want to tell his family about his astral projections and freak them out with the invasion of privacy.

"Don't be, man," Finn shrugged, "I'm not gonna lie, Rachel's pretty intense about this whole thing, but you still have a shot. And even if you don't win, it doesn't mean you're not gonna get into NYADA. Things usually work themselves out."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you sound pretty optimistic. I mean, no offense, but these last few months, it's like you've been having some sort of existential crisis. Celeste was telling Blaine what a jerk you were on your date."

Finn grimaced. "Yeah, I guess I was pretty upset after hearing that Puck had that free ride to OSU. But, that was before I talked to Coach Beiste."

"What did she say?"

"Honestly, I can't really get into detail, but… she knows a lot more about stuff than I thought."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Well, she has this other job. When she's not coaching at McKinley, she's at OSU."

"She coaches football at OSU?"

"Not football…. More like this elite fraternity."

Kurt frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Like I said, I can't really talk about it," he said, smiling coyly, "But she saw that I was off my game, so she told me about it. Said they could use guys like me. She's recommending me to the school."

"Well, what does that mean?"

"I think it might mean that I could get a scholarship to OSU."

"A scholarship? Really?" 

"Yeah, they call it the Initiative Grant. I guess for students who… show initiative," he said, spinning his laptop around on the counter to show Kurt a page on Ohio State University-Lima's website, "I just submitted an application."

Kurt widened his eyes. "Finn, that's great!"

"Yeah, I just have to wait and see what happens, but I think it's looking good," Finn smiled, "I think I'm going to college."

xxx

Kitty opened her motel room door to find Buffy on the other side, wearing a leather jacket and an unamused frown.

"Buffy," Kitty smiled, pulling at a white cotton bathrobe with a swirly 'K' emblazoned on the breast, "What brings you to the Honey Boo Boo side of town?"

Buffy's bottom lip jutted out. "Can I come in?"

Kitty shrugged and held the door wide open, gesturing for Buffy to walk inside. The older slayer paced into the room and turned back around to face Kitty. The motel was like any other - springy mattress, TV with fuzzy reception, water-stained ceiling. Only Kitty's stuff sprawled around the room - the Cartier watch, the jewellry, the Jimmy Choos, the clothes from Barney's and the Smartphone - gave the room a touch of class. Buffy wondered why she couldn't afford a nice hotel if she could afford all of her designer things.

She folded her arms and glared at Kitty. "Cloven guy. Goes by the name Kakistos."

Kitty's eyes widened, proving Buffy's suspicions right. There was no coincidence.

"What do you know about Kakistos?"

"That's he's here," Buffy replied.

Kitty visibly gulped, reeling back the natural attitude.

"Not happy to see old friends, are we?" Buffy asked, feeling smug, "What did he do to you?"

"It's what I did to him," Kitty said, hastily taking off her bathrobe to reveal her flowery leggings and red sweater, and shoved it into a duffel bag that was resting against the dresser.

"And what was that?" Buffy asked, as the blonde quickly strapped a pair of black, high heel boots onto her feet, "Kitty, you came here for a reason. I can help."

"How about you mind your own business, Captain America?" Kitty snapped, shoving her things into her duffel and suitcase, "I can handle this."

Buffy snorted. "Yeah, you're a real badass when it comes to packing," she scoffed as Kitty grabbed a bunch of toiletries from the bathroom, "What was that you said about my problem? I should move on. Get over it. Well, it looks like you've got the moving on part down but did you ever consider dealing with your problems? Are you just gonna dump this on me?"

Kitty stood up straight from her bag and glared at Buffy. "You don't me. You don't know what I've been through. I can take care of myself."

"Like you took care of your watcher?" 

Kitty stood still, her anger drifting and her shoulders drooping. Buffy immediately regretted saying it when she realized what had really happened.

"Kakistos killed him, didn't he?" she asked softly.

Kitty looked at the floor. "They don't have a word for what he did to him."

Someone knocked on the door, making both girls jump. Kitty dropped her bag and went to the door to peer out of the peephole.

"Ugh," Kitty groaned, "It's the manager. I _told _him I'd pay for the room tomorrow."

"Kitty, if you run, Kakistos will run after you," Buffy said gravely.

Kitty grabbed both her bag and her suitcase. "That's where the head start comes in handy," she said, and swung the door open.

Both she and Buffy gasped to see the lifeless manager was being held up to the doorway, blood dripping down his neck, by a vampire wearing medieval robes, his hands cloven with three hooves each. He dropped the dead manager to the ground and smiled menacingly at the slayers, flanked by two other vampire minions.

"Katherine," he greeted Kitty in a syrupy voice.

He grabbed at her throat with his cloven hand, but Buffy jumped toward them, pulling Kitty away from the door and attempting to close it on Kakistos' arm. She pushed him out of the way and closed the door, but his claw bust through the flimsy wood as Buffy tried to hold it back.

Kitty wiped hysterical tears off her face, screaming, "No, no, no!"

"Scream later, escape now," Buffy demanded, taking a leap away from the door and pulling Kitty with her by the arm.

The girls ran into the bathroom and broke open the small, rectangular window, boosting each other outside as Kakistos and his minions broke down the door and ran after them. They eventually lost them in a maze of alleyways in downtown Lima, and broke into an abandoned building that was once a wine cellar, waiting while the minions looked for them.

"We're okay," Buffy said breathlessly as Kitty panted beside her, "What happened? Kitty, what happened?" 

Kitty sniffed, looking pained. "I was there when he killed my watcher. I saw what he did to him… What he was gonna do to me… I tried to stop him, but I couldn't. I ran." Kitty ran a hand through her hair, looking frightened and ashamed.

"Kitty," said Buffy, "First rule of slaying? Don't die. You did the right thing. Now, you do the math. One of him, two of us. Yeah?"

Kitty's eyes drifted to the other side of the room. "No. This is his place."

Buffy turned around to see dizzy, nearly dead victims with punctures in their necks, lying around in blood stains. "He drove us here," she realized aloud.

Just as she spoke, a vampire appeared in the window behind them, snarling like a lion. Buffy grabbed Kitty's sleeve and the girls started to run again, down through a wide, open room with abandoned construction equipment and a thin flight of stairs running against the wall. The vampire, joined by two more, ran after them, gaining speed. Buffy put her foot into a dusty paint bucket and kicked out, flinging the bucket into one of the vampire's faces. She karate-kicked another and leapt over a wooden table with candles melted into the crevices, finding a crowbar on the ground beside it. She swatted at one of the vampires with it when she spotted Kitty across the room, being cornered by Kakistos, a talisman hanging from his translucent neck.

"Kitty!" she called to the other slayer, "Don't die!"

She flung the crowbar across the room and Kitty, wide-eyed and bewildered, caught it in one hand. She raised it in the air, but Kakistos quickly gave her a back-fisted punch and she fell back into a flimsy pillar, cracking the wood in half as she fell to the floor. Kakistos walked slowly toward her as Buffy fought off the other vamps and grabbed her by her shirt, pulling her up into his snarling face, a hideous scar slashed across his right eye.

Buffy staked the last vamp, and turned her head to see Kakistos viciously punching Kitty's face until he let her fall to the floor again, limp and bloodied. Buffy ran toward him before he could sink his teeth into the other slayer and threw a punch into his gut. He fought back, throwing thudding blows, but Buffy dodged most. She drove the stake into his meaty chest, but just barely pierced the skin as he tossed her against a wall. She looked on at him, bewildered, as Kitty stirred and raised her head.

"I guess you need a bigger stake, slayer," Kakistos laughed, the stake sticking right out of chest.

Kitty hopped up, a rivulet of blood dripping from her forehead, and grabbed the halved, wood pillar she had broken, tossing it at Kakistos like a javelin. It pierced right through his chest and appeared at the other side, turning him to dust. The pillar clattered to the floor along with the remains of the cloven vampire. Both girls panted heavily as they stared at the ground where he once stood. Buffy pushed herself away from the wall and approached Kitty, her chest heaving.

"You hungry?" she asked.

Kitty smirked and nodded. "Starved."

xxx

"The Council approved our request," said Will.

The Scoobies had all gathered in the choir room that morning before classes started so Buffy could tell them about her night with Kitty and Kakistos.

"Kitty will stay here indefinitely, her hotel room will be paid for and I will be a watcher for you both until they can find a replacement," the teacher continued as he walked into the room and set his briefcase down on the piano.

"Good," Buffy nodded as Kurt finished off the last remnants of his espresso beside her, "Kitty really came through in the end. She had a lot to deal with, but she dealt. She put a lot behind her."

Will nodded. "Well, I'm glad to hear it."

Buffy looked thoughtfully down at her lap, a ball forming in her throat as she decided to quickly say, "Santana was cured."

She continued to stare at her jeans as the room became unimaginably silent. All eyes were on her, she was sure.

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, barely audible.

Buffy opened her mouth to speak again, but her hands had started shaking. She'd decided last night that she would tell them all what really happened. Tell them why Santana's death had been so much harder than it would have been if she had remained the cruel and evil Snix. But now that she was telling them, it was like feeling that fresh pain all over again.

"When I killed her, she was cured," she said, her voice small, "Your spell worked."

Quinn continued to gape at her, disbelieving. Buffy turned toward Will, who was slackjawed.

"I was about to kill her, and then something happened, and she was Santana again," Buffy said, almost smiling at the memory as her eyes fogged over, threatening tears, "She didn't remember anything she'd done. But it was too late, and I had to. So I told her that I loved her, and I kissed her…" Buffy paused, a flood of remorse and relief washing over her, "And I killed her."

The Scoobies continued to stare, their faces fallen, as Tina reached over to put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. Buffy lowered her head and sniffed.

"I don't know if that helps with your spell," she said.

Will gulped. "I… I think it will."

"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered on Buffy's other side.

"It's okay," Buffy nodded, convinced that it really was, "I've been holding onto that for so long. It felt good to get it out. Uh, I gotta go, okay?"

The others nodded respectfully as Buffy excused herself, her head still bowed as she left the room.

Blaine sighed heavily. "Poor Buffy," he said.

Quinn's brow was knitted in frustration. "It worked…" she said under her breath.

Rachel looked up at Will. "Mr. Schuester," she said, "What spell are you trying to do?"

Will looked down at the surface of the piano. "...I'm not doing a spell."

xxx

"Hey."

Quinn shook as she looked up from where she sat under the bleachers, hugging her knees as she smoked a cigarette. It wasn't the herbal variety. It was the kind full of nicotine that she'd gotten from one of McKinley elusive goth girls and hid from Rachel. It was Kurt, though, who had found her and was walking over to join her where she was squatting.

"Oh, hey," Quinn greeted him, quickly tossing her cigarette down onto the grass and squishing it under her Doc Martens, "Don't tell Rachel, okay? I've only smoked real cigarettes, like, three times, but I know she'd freak."

Kurt smirked. "I think the lemongrass ones are bad for you, too."

Quinn frowned. "But they don't have any nicotine."

"Yeah, I don't think it's the nicotine that kills you. I think it's the smoke. But that's beside the point. I wanted to ask you-"

"If you wanted me to reconsider helping you with this spell-"

"Quinn, you heard Buffy. Your spell _worked_. You got a hold of Santana's soul and you got it back to her. If you can do that, why can't you help my mom?"

"Because it's a different kind of thing, Kurt," Quinn grimaced at the ground, "Santana's soul wasn't attached to anything. Your mom's soul - her fragment of a soul or whatever it is - is in _you_. I could hurt you. Why don't you understand that?"

"I do understand that and I'm ready to take that risk."

"Kurt-"

"No, I am. I'm tired, Quinn, and every time I fall asleep I can feel how much pain she's in. I can't take it anymore."

Quinn shook her head. "I had help before."

"I can help you."

"You wouldn't know how."

Kurt balled his fists, frustrated. "You could help me if you _wanted_ to-"

"Of course, I want to-"

"No, you don't, because the stakes aren't high for you. It's not your mother or your dreams. You have nothing to lose-"

"Kurt-"

"I'll drop out of the race."

Quinn frowned. "What?"

"I'll quit the campaign, for class president," Kurt nodded, "If you help me. Rachel will win. She's already winning, this will just be the last nail on the coffin lid, or something. You know she's been killing herself trying to win. She _needs _to get into NYADA, Quinn, and this will seal the deal for her."

Quinn pursed her lips. "You can't… blackmail me."

"This isn't blackmail. This is bribery. You help me and I help you."

Quinn paused. "Don't you want to get into NYADA?"

Kurt shrugged. "Not as badly as I want to help my mom."

Quinn wrinkled her brow like she was mulling it over, before she rolled her eyes. "This is insane. Kurt… I can't."

Kurt was about to continue arguing when Rachel bounced down the bleachers in a silk skirt, her brown eyes wide with alarm. She spotted Kurt and Quinn crouched underneath the steps and squatted down to peer at them from between the metal steps.

"Finally! Where have you guys been?!" she demanded, "Never mind. The cast list for _West Side _is up. It's up!"

Quinn and Kurt scrambled off of the ground and followed Rachel, who was quick on her ballet flats, to the announcement board nearest to the choir room. The rest of glee club and a few less enthusiast theater kids crowded the two-page cast list. Rachel elbowed her way through them and Quinn waited eagerly a few feet away to hear if her girlfriend had gotten the part. Her question was answered when Rachel turned away, looking crestfallen. Tina, Blaine and Piper looked sympathetically after her as she padded away.

"What? What does it say?" asked Buffy, who came sprinting down the hall, her backpack clanging.

Rachel pouted. "Kitty got the part," she said, almost disbelieving, "I didn't even know she _auditioned_."

Kurt frowned. "Sorry, Rachel… Did you see who got Tony?"

Blaine approached them, wringing his hands together, looking guilty. "I got Tony."

Kurt widened his eyes in a mix of surprise, disappointment and pride. He tried to smile widely, but it looked wooden.

"I didn't even audition for Tony, I swear," Blaine shook his head vehemently, "I auditioned for Bernardo, but…"

"No, it's great," Kurt nodded, "You deserve it. We should… go to dinner to celebrate. I'm happy for you, I am."

Blaine nodded, still looking guilty, as Tina approached the rest of them. "Rachel, it's not that bad. At least you got Anita," she said, trying to sound sympathetic.

Quinn smiled hopefully at her girlfriend. "See, you got Anita. That's great. That's a great character."

Rachel breathed out of her nose in frustration. "But it's not _Maria_," she snapped, "I'm sorry, excuse me. I have to practise my speech, and then my _supporting_ character lines."

Rachel stalked off in her squeaky flats and Quinn turned to follow and comfort her, but not before turning back around to Kurt, meeting his eyes and giving him a tight nod.

xxx

Buffy picked at her nails outside of Mr. Perry's History classroom, perking up when the bell sounded and Juniors flooded out of class. She kept her eyes peeled for a head of dirt-brown dreadlocks and was surprised when the first thing she noticed about Joe when he walked out of the classroom was his silver lip ring.

"Joe, hey," she greeted him, smiling jovially as she gripped her handbag, "I was, um, waiting for you to get out of class."

Joe looked up at her, uncertain but expectant, his face not as soft and friendly as usual. "Oh, um, why?"

Buffy swallowed and paced herself for what she was about to explain. "Look, there was someone, a while ago, and the ring… sort of confused me, but I liked what you said about friendship. I liked it a lot. And Hitchcock? Big fun. I'm capable of big fun even though there's no way you could possibly know that and if I knew I was going to be babbling this much, I would've brought some water. I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you would still like to go to the film festival, and I would totally understand if you didn't, I would still pretty much love to go with you."

Joe sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Look, I don't know, Buffy. I'm gonna have to think about this," he said stoically, and then broke into a wide, trademark smile, "Okay, I thought about it. I'm in. When do you want to go?"

xxx

The doorbell rang out as Shelby bounced her crying daughter on her hip. Beth squeezed tears out of her pink face, her mouth open wide to emit a cry like a police siren as the bell rang over and over. Shelby sighed heavily and carried Beth to the apartment door, peering through the peephole to see that it was Puck. Filled with relief, she swung the door open and smiled gratefully.

"Puck, thank God," Shelby smiled, her dark hair falling out of its bun, "You're a lifesaver."

"No problem," he smiled crookedly at her and pulled a frowny face at Beth, "What's wrong little blondie? You want to see your daddy?"

Shelby handed Beth over to Puck and held the door open so he could come inside, bouncing her in his arms, a guitar case strapped around his chest.

"She's been fed and changed," said Shelby, "I think she's just tired and cranky."

"Nothing a little acoustic guitar can't fix," Puck smirked as Beth continued to cry.

"I just really need some concentration, if I ever want to get through these college essays," said Shelby, who'd put on an oversized purple sweatshirt and a black pair of yoga pants as soon as she'd gotten home - her official 'not at work' uniform, "And I wanted to give Sofia a break, you know? She's a babysitter, not a nanny, I can't bother her at this time of night. Besides, Beth is always happy to see her dad."

She kicked a few plushie toys out of the way as she walked into the living room, Puck following idly.

"Yeah, no problem. Call whenever you want. I'm always happy to see my little lamb," he smiled at the toddler, who's screaming had died down to a hiccup-y weeping, "How 'bout I take her to her room? Sing a little, maybe read her a book."

Shelby smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "That sounds great," she said, crossing her arms.

Puck headed to the nursery with Beth and Shelby took a seat on the sofa, tending to the pile of essays she had to get through. She plucked from the top of the pile to see the first one was by Morgan Ru. She sighed and flicked the cap off of her red pen when she heard Puck strumming his guitar in the other room. He played a familiar melody and when Shelby struck a red line through the first typo, he started to sing.

"_So long. I've been looking too hard, I've been waiting too long. Sometimes I don't know what I will find. I only know it's a matter of time, when you love someone."_

Shelby bit her bottom lip, trying to mask a nostalgic smile. The same song had played at her high school prom. She'd only crashed the prom so she could spike the punch bowl and even back then, the song had been old-fashioned and corny, but for whatever reason, the memory made her feel good. She set the essay back down on her coffee table and stood up, walking into the hallway. The door to Beth's nursery was open and the guitar strummed melodically out to her. She walked up to the door jamb and leaned against the wall, listening intently.

"_Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong? This heart of mine has been hurt before. This time I want to be sure."_

She breathed in quickly when she remembered what was so special about that song. She had just spilled all of her bourbon into the crystal punch bowl when the song came on and couples paired off to slow dance, and her boyfriend at the time, Kyle Sampson… Simpson? She couldn't remember. But she did remember how he'd whisked her off into the hallway and kissed her, telling her she was the coolest girl he'd ever met, the love song crooning loudly from the gymnasium doors. Shelby smiled.

"_I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you and a love that will survive. Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life."_

Shelby smiled and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall as she listened. The last time she'd felt as special as the times when Kyle kissed her were the times when Jesse kissed her. Both of those boys had worshipped her until it got to be too much. Until she felt like she was leading them on. Still, she missed how good she'd felt when she was with them.

"You liked that?"

Shelby's eyes snapped wide open and Puck was standing in front of her, his guitar case on his back and the door to the nursery closed.

"Oh, Puck," she said quickly and quietly, "I'm sorry, I was just… Yeah, it's a good song."

Puck nodded, narrowing his eyes at her and smiling playfully. "Okay, well, Beth is asleep."

"That fast?"

"What can I say? She's a _Foreigner _fan. Girl gets her epic musical taste from her dad, I'll tell you that," he grinned.

Shelby sighed and crossed her arms again, her eyes wandering to the crown molding over the nursery door. "Thank you. Really, I appreciate it. It's everything I wanted. To be a mom. Ever since Rachel, I knew that _that's _what was missing from my life. It's just so damn hard. It's hard to do it alone. The mess, the crying, the books about ducks wearing yellow rubber boots… It's great but it's all on me, you know?"

Puck nodded, listening intently as Shelby talked, almost to herself.

"That's not even the hardest part, though," she said, "It's all the amazing parts. Like when Beth first stood. I just wanted to be able to look over and share that moment with someone that loves her just as much as I do. But… no-one's there."

Puck wrung his hands together and cocked his head. "Listen, if you ever need any extra help, I'm here for you," he said, and took her hand, making her look up at him, to see how serious, how committed, he was, "Always."

xxx

"This place is actually kind of nice. Do you ever catch kids bumping uglies behind the trees?" Kitty asked eagerly.

Buffy stalked through the Lima cemetery and smiled coyly to herself with the younger slayer beside her, the moonlight bouncing over their fair hair.

"No," Buffy laughed, "There's a spot up by the woods, though. Some kids go parking."

"Parking?" Kitty wrinkled her nose, looking amused as they walked, "People still do that? That's not strictly an activity found in movies set in the '50s?"

"It's a small town," Buffy explained, "People get bored."

Kitty smiled to herself, shoving her hands into the pockets of her raincoat. "Have you and Joe ever taken the trip to Makeout Point?"

"Hardly. We've only been on a few dates."

Kitty rolled her eyes. "But you _like _him, don't you? That crunchy, granola, stashes-weed-in-his-dreads and smells-like-he-hasn't-showered-in-a-few-days thing gives you the certified horns, huh?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. And he doesn't smoke weed. He's really religious."

"Oh, so it's a Teen Jesus thing? I should've known. 'Cause of the sandals."

"He's nice. And he's funny. And best of all, he doesn't seem to be any kind of Hell beast."

Kitty snorted. "All men are beasts, Buff 'n Stuff."

"I was hoping to not get that cynical until at least my second divorce."

"It's not cynical," Kitty said matter-of-factly, "It's realistic. Every guy from manimal down to Mr. Downton Abbey has beast in him. I don't care how sensitive they pretend to be. They're all in it for the chase."

xxx

Rachel wrapped a yellow bathrobe over her pajamas and flung her bedroom curtains open, letting sunlight illuminate her already vibrant bedroom. She'd wallowed in self-pity all week, throwing glares at the _West Side Story _script that was lying on her dresser with Anita's lines highlighted in pink. Still, she decided to put on a brave face. Today was the day that she would win Class President and have a sparkling line about leadership on her college applications and her future resumes. She tried to envision her first student council meeting with full reign of the official gavel, but she tried not to get ahead of herself.

She grabbed her clear makeup bag full of toiletries and headed to the bathroom at the end of the hall to start her morning routine, but as she strode out of her bedroom, she collided into someone. She looked up to see it was neither of her fathers, but a boy her age in pajama pants and a thick wool cardigan. Rachel screamed and smacked him across the face with her makeup bag. He immediately reeled back, yelling out something that sounded vaguely like a swear word.

"Rachel, what's going on?!" Hiram demanded as he and LeRoy ran out of the master bedroom, pulling their dressing gowns tightly around themselves.

"There's a boy!" Rachel cried, pointing to the stranger in the hallway who was shielding his face from the girl's makeup bag.

"Rachel, that is Rory!" LeRoy snapped.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at the boy. He was baby-faced, with a pointy Keebler nose and perfectly gelled brown hair. The cheek she had slapped was becoming aggressively pink.

"Who- Who's Rory?" she asked.

"I'm the foreign exchange student," he said, in a thick accent.

Rachel frowned at her fathers. "We're hosting an exchange student?"

"Rachel, we _told you _about this. We're hosting an exchange student from Ireland. This is him, Rory Flanagan," said Hiram, "You must've totally tuned us out, like you've been doing all month."

Rachel pouted. "Well, I've been… busy."

"Well, you better not be busy today because Rory needs someone to show him around the school and you are his host sister."

Rachel widened her eyes. "Dad, today is election day! I need to make the rounds. Meet and greet and butter up my constituents. I have to win!"

"Rachel, don't be rude," LeRoy frowned, "Now, I'm going to make French toast. Rory, do you have French toast in Ireland?"

Rory nodded shyly.

"Try not to assault the boy anymore," Hiram said sarcastically to his daughter as LeRoy headed downstairs to start breakfast, "I'm going to take a shower."

Rachel pouted to herself as her fathers disappeared and Rory looked nervously at her, holding a palm to his swelling cheek. "Sorry I startled you," he said.

Rachel frowned at him. "And I'm sorry that I hit you with my makeup bag, but listen to me. Today is a big day for me. I was already robbed of my McKinley High theater debut but I will not let anyone take this election from me. So just stay out of my way!"

Rory grinned a little as he continued to caress his own cheek. "Wow. American girls… very aggressive."

Rachel raised her chin in the air and said, "Vote Rachel Berry," before storming off to the bathroom.


	84. The Election

**Chapter 81**

**The Election**

"Are you excited?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "Uh huh."

Red, white and blue campaign posters wallpapered McKinley High. Most of them were for Rachel's new and sudden 'Berry the Competition' campaign, but a few of Kurt's and Sugar's were peppered around the place. Blaine frowned at them as he walked alongside his boyfriend.

"Don't be nervous. She's been plastering her face all over the school, but we have a secret weapon."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Blaine smiled proudly. "Well, people like you. Rachel's kind of… hard to get along with. And people vote with their heart. They'll pick the person who they think is the most approachable."

Kurt nodded absently as they walked to the choir room in their matching oxfords. He hadn't told Blaine that he was dropping out of the campaign yet. The election was today and he would have to make an announcement during the speeches. He was dreading the conversation he would have to have with boyfriend afterwards. Of course, as Kurt's enthusiastic campaign manager, Blaine would be upset. And Kurt _still _hadn't decided if he was going to tell the truth - that dropping out was part of his deal with Quinn - or make something up so that his boyfriend wouldn't worry.

They were holding hands when they walked into the choir room before their classes for a Scooby Gang meeting. Mr. Schuester, Puck and Quinn were gathered around the grand piano looking anxious. They all twirled around when Blaine and Kurt entered, panic etched over their faces.

"Oh, hello," said Will, testing out a nervous smile, "Good to see you. So, no need to panic."

Kurt frowned. "I'm willing to bet that poker's not your game."

"What's going on?" asked Blaine.

"W-Well," Will cleared his throat, "There's not necessarily… anything, going on. But, if there were-"

"There was a murder last night," said Quinn, her arms folded over her Nirvana tee, her pale eyebrows pulled into a worried grimace, "A student was found in the woods."

"Which student?" Kurt asked urgently.

"Jeff Orkin," said Will.

"Jeff…" Blaine frowned, "I knew him. I mean, he was in my Social Studies class."

"It looks like he was mauled," said Will, looking remorseful, "And it's possible- I mean, we'd hate to think it. But it could be the handiwork of, well… Well, it could've been Puck or-"

Blaine's stomach dropped. "Me?"

"Wolf you, not you you," Quinn frowned.

"Not any you," Puck sighed, looking heated, "Or me. We were at my place last night, in the basement. I made sure it was secure. The gate was locked and my mom would've known if one of us got out. It's not like we could have locked ourselves back in before sunrise."

"Well, is there a window in your basement?" asked Kurt.

Puck frowned. "Well, yeah, but…" he trailed off, starting to look worried, "I didn't check to make sure it was locked…"

xxx

Buffy flooded into the school gymnasium with everyone else, blown-up campaign posters hanging above the basketball hoops. She peeled her eyes for where her friends were sitting, and spotted Quinn, Tina and Blaine standing together in a huddle beside the bleachers, looking grave. She walked over to them and tapped at Blaine's shoulder to get his attention.

"Shouldn't you be helping Kurt prep for his speech?" she asked, raising her voice over the loud chattering of her senior class.

A small stage had been set up in the gym with a podium and microphone for the senior class president candidates to give their speeches. There were several portapotty-sized tents in a row at the end of the room for people to fill out their ballots afterwards.

Blaine grimaced. "He wanted to go over it alone."

"Oh…" Buffy nodded, scanning the Scoobies solemn faces, "I'm afraid to ask, but, what's going on?"

Quinn sighed. "Puck and or Blaine may have gotten out of their cage last night," she said, as hushed as she could possibly be in the crowded gym.

"Either that or there's another werewolf roaming the woods," Blaine frowned.

Tina folded her arms. "It could be something else entirely," she said.

Buffy frowned. "Okay… well, we'll work it out. Does Will know?"

"Yeah," said Tina, "He wanted me to ask you to patrol the woods tonight. I'm going to the morgue to try and figure out if it was really a werewolf kill."

"What about Puck and Blaine?" asked Buffy, glancing at the boy, "I mean… someone should be there while you guys are caged up tonight. To make sure you don't get out. Quinn?"

"I can't," Quinn said quickly, "I'm… I'm busy tonight. Uh, I have Beth."

"You can ask Kitty to do it, right?" Tina asked Buffy.

Blaine folded his arms, balling his fists, as Principal Figgins stepped up to the podium on stage and tapped the mic, making a screeching feedback sound.

"Let's find a seat," said Quinn, "It's starting."

The scoobies squeezed their way into the audience as Figgins announced the candidates and let them each give their speeches. Sugar Motta's was a minute long and she mostly talked about how if she were class president, her father would pay for flatscreens in every classroom, Macs in the computer lab and every day would be Taco Tuesday, which confused most of the students. Rachel was next. Quinn almost stopped breathing during her girlfriend's speech, which was articulate and impassioned, but ended up running double the length of the time they were allotted and Figgins had to usher the girl offstage while she rapidly yelled about Gifted programs.

Blaine tried on a nervous smile as his boyfriend stepped up to the podium. Kurt's hands were shaking. He wasn't holding the flash cards that Blaine had made for him. He adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, looking worriedly into the crowd.

"Good afternoon," he said to the crowd, his voice unusually small.

Blaine tried to telekinetically will him to _smile_, like he had told him to over and over when they rehearsed this moment, but Kurt remained straight-faced.

"Um… Two great speeches by my opponents. Some really… great points," he trailed off a little, wrinkling his brow and trying to remember what he was supposed to say, "I, uh, I had some decent ideas about what I would do if I were class president. Actually, my boyfriend was the one who came up with the good ideas. I've been kind of… distracted."

Someone in the crowd called out, "Lady Pants!", followed by a lot of juvenile chuckling and Mr. Schuester hissing, "Cut it out!" somewhere in the front row. Blaine grimaced. This wasn't the speech they had practised. Why was Kurt deviating from the script?

"Anyways…" the boy sighed, staring at a spot above the audience, "Even though I think the ideas I would've brought to the table were good… I think Rachel's are better."

Blaine blanched in the crowd. From where she was sitting on the stage behind Kurt, Rachel's mouth was wide open.

"Rachel's a passionate person. And hardworking. And despite everything this school has done to her, she cares about it. She has real, unironic school spirit that I didn't even know people could really have. Her ideas are great. I wouldn't be surprised if she singlehandedly took this school to a new championship level. So, instead of promising you that I'll do a bunch of stuff that I probably never will, I'm just going to announce that I'm dropping out of the race. And I hope you vote for Rachel because… she deserves it."

Kurt stepped away from the podium to tepid, confused applause. As a baffled Principal Figgins stepped to the microphone to arrange orderly lines in front of the voting tents, Blaine squeezed his way out of the crowd and quickly walked up to the stage, where Kurt, Rachel and Sugar were standing. Rachel looked just as confused as Blaine felt. He grimaced at his boyfriend, who looked like he was mentally preparing himself for an unpleasant conversation.

"What's going on?" Blaine demanded, glancing between Kurt and Rachel as their classmates began the voting process, the gymnasium once again becoming a cacophony of gossiping students.

"Kurt, you didn't have to do that," said Rachel, taken aback, seeming both flattered and offended, "I mean, I could've won on my own. You didn't have to… hand it to me."

"Um, last time I checked, people still love Sugar and they still love Apple products," Sugar piped up, giving Rachel the evil eye, "Now excuse me. I'm going to go vote for yours truly."

Sugar skipped away off of the stage and Rachel glanced back at the boys. "I'm going to go vote, too… I'll… see you guys later."

Blaine watched her walk away. "So…. what was that?" he asked again, hands on his hips.

Kurt sighed and put a hand on his boyfriend's arm. "Can we talk about this in the hall?"

Blaine nodded, his face still crumpled in a confused frown, and followed Kurt offstage and outside the gym, where the noise from inside was muffled and the hallway was deserted.

"So? What's going on?" asked Blaine, hands still rested on the hips of his slacks.

Kurt sighed, his head bowed as he tried to muster up an explanation. "It was too much. Too much to deal with."

"What? Class president?" Blaine frowned.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. Between school and… these dreams. It's too much to deal with right now."

Blaine sighed heavily, looking a bit more sympathetic. "Well, why didn't you say anything?"

Kurt shrugged. "You were so into it. The campaign was kind of your baby. I knew you'd be upset that I didn't go through with it."

Blaine cocked his head to the side. "You thought I'd be upset that you didn't want to be class president?"

Kurt shrugged again.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed, "You didn't have to do it if you didn't want to. I would've been fine. I'm not thrilled that you didn't even bother to tell me, though."

Kurt frowned and looked at the floor. "It's not a big deal."

"Maybe it's not a big deal to you but I have to be honest, my feelings are kind of hurt. You're supposed to share this kind of thing with me. Did you think I wouldn't support you? Do you think that _I _don't know what it's like to feel overwhelmed?"

"You don't," Kurt grumbled.

Blaine looked surprised. "I don't?"

"Not like I do," Kurt frowned, dark shadows under his eyes, "When I'm not sharing dreams with my family, I'm dreaming about how unhappy my mother is. And I had _just _gotten my powers under control when it started... If you had any idea… I can't do it all, Blaine."

"So you're not going to bother telling me anything because I wouldn't _understand_? Because I've never had problems that felt like too much to bear?" Blaine asked, looking offended, "I don't care that you dropped out of the race. I really don't. I mean, yeah, I wish you'd told me you didn't want to do it sooner so I wouldn't have wasted all that time on the campaign-"

"See, you _do _care! You act like you don't care, but you do. You care about the election and you don't show it, but you're thrilled you got the lead in _West Side Story_."

Blaine almost laughed. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"No, Blaine. I'm not saying you shouldn't be but you have to understand that I don't have room left in me to care about stuff like that right now. I just have a lot to deal with."

Blaine looked back at his boyfriend, stone-faced. "You know what, Kurt? I'm sorry that you're going through this, but I'm getting sick of being treated like I couldn't possibly fathom the scale of your tragic problems. In case you haven't noticed, I'm going through something, too."

Kurt sighed, still stuck between the decision of being defensive or remorseful. "I know. Just…" he ran his hand through his shiny brown hair, looking altogether too exhausted to have a fight, "Can we just go back inside and vote and talk about this later?"

Blaine frowned and looked at the thin leather watch on his wrist. "I can't. It's almost sunset."

"Oh," Kurt nodded, "Do you need a ride?"

"I'm going with Puck," said Blaine, and sighed, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

Kurt nodded and almost as an afterthought, reached over and hugged his boyfriend. Blaine hugged back half-heartedly and the two parted ways. Blaine disappeared down the hall and Kurt stared after him, his stomach in knots. He wondered if telling him about his mother was the right thing to do, but couldn't help fearing that if Blaine knew what Kurt was up to, he would try to stop him. Kurt couldn't risk that. His dreams of his mom were becoming more vivid and he needed to put her unhappiness to an end. He couldn't have anything get in the way of that.

xxx

Buffy twirled a stake around in one hand after night fell, the full moon casting an ethereal glow over the woods surrounding the Lima cemetery. Something rustled in the leaves but Buffy couldn't be sure it wasn't just a rabbit. She made her footsteps more light and deliberate as she listened intently to the calm whoosh of the wind and a hoot of an owl. She kept her eyes trained on where she'd seen the rustling, when suddenly, someone ran past. They were impossibly fast - not human, Buffy deduced, as she ran after them, her stake gripped tight beside her.

She doubled back around a tall patch of oak trees, where the figure had darted through, and ran faster when the animalistic growling grew louder. The figure ran swiftly toward Buffy, moonlight bouncing on black hair. They collided with Buffy, knocking the slayer's feet out from under her. Buffy landed on the ground and looked back up to see that the figure had stopped in their tracks and was staring at her. Growling at her. Buffy blinked, a ball forming in her throat. It was a girl, staring sinisterly with maroon-colored eyes and thick, wild, black hair framing her heart-shaped face. Buffy's breath was lost. _Santana_.

On knees like jelly, Buffy stood, still staring, trying to make her eyes adjust to the darkness even though they already had. Trying to figure out why she was seeing what she was seeing. The girl was wearing the same thing she had been wearing when she had been sucked into Acathla's hell dimension. The same tight black dress, only now the hem was frayed, one strap was ripped and draped off of her shoulder and the color had faded into a dirty gray-brown. Her bare feet sunk into the dirt.

Before Buffy could find her bearings, Santana emitted a low growl and charged forward and knocked Buffy to the ground again. The vampire climbed on top of the slayer, raising her fists like an ape before Buffy knocked the girl off of her. Santana rolled over into the dirt but was quick to get back up, ready to fight. Buffy dodged a punch and swung hard, landing a fist in the other girl's face. Santana fell back and fidgeted on the dirt path like she wanted to get back up and continue trading blows, but she was clearly hurt, and exhausted. She laid on the ground and Buffy stood up, staring down at the girl as she shook dirt off of her clothes, her face twisted into tortured confusion. She kneeled down and brushed the black hair out of the girl's face. It was really her.

xxx

"Thanks for doing this with me. Everybody else was busy and I usually get Mike to help me with this kind of thing."

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't accompany my lady friend to the morgue?"

Sam followed closely behind Tina with a flashlight app from his phone illuminating the path in front of them. They had quite easily snuck into the Lima funeral home and made their way into a room with at least a dozen rectangular metal tombs built into the wall. Sam steadied the light as Tina opened one, pulling out the tray that carried a still, lifeless body and folding down the sheet that was over it to reveal Jeff Orkin's shredded face.

Sam winced and looked away. "Oh, God."

"Keep the light steady," Tina ordered as she laid a vintage_ Courage the Cowardly Dog_ lunch-box down on Jeff's chest and opened it to reveal her bounty of medical equipment.

Sam grimaced as he pointed the light at Jeff's fingernails, which Tina was inspecting with a pair of tweezers.

"How can you stand this?" he asked, "I mean, it's pretty barf-worthy. Was it werewolves or what?"

"I can't tell yet," said Tina, "There are a lot of incised wounds. It could've been anything. I'm almost done, just let me get a few stray hairs."

Sam frowned as she collected some samples into a small ziplock bag.

"So, how is he?" Tina asked quietly, trying desperately to feign nonchalance.

"Who?" asked Sam, wrinkling his nose, keeping the dead body out of his line of sight.

"Mike. Is he… How is he? I see him in European History but he doesn't sit near me. Or look at me. He'll nod politely sometimes, but… Is he seeing anyone?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his red sneakers.

"Sorry," said Tina, "I don't want to put you in that position. I know you're his friend."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. And I'm your friend, too, you know. I don't want anyone to think I'm choosing sides."

"No, of course not. Really, you've been perfectly diplomatic. It's admirable."

Sam smiled politely. "Well… he's not seeing anyone. That's not a secret or anything."

Tina nodded. "Done."

"Done?" Sam perked up, "We can go?"

"We can go," Tina sighed, "I don't feel anymore knowledgeable than when I came, though."

"This doesn't look good for Puck and Blaine, does it?"

Tina grimaced. "No, it doesn't."

xxx

Quinn sat cross-legged on Kurt's bed, her spell-book on her lap. She'd had to start a new one after the scoobies destroyed hers in sophomore year, but she already knew there would be nothing in it to help with her present situation.

"Do you think there's anything on the internet?" asked Kurt.

Quinn trailed her finger over the ingredients for a theoretical spell that may have the power to contact the dead. Not exactly what she needed.

"Doubtful," she replied as an afterthought, "Everything online is hokey nonsense."

Kurt sat at his computer desk, swivelling around in his office chair. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You can keep quiet," Quinn snapped, furrowing her eyebrows at the book before she realized what she'd said and looked up at the boy, remorseful, "Sorry. Long day. Not enough coffee."

Kurt stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Yeah, I know the feeling. At least tell me what you think so far. Like, where should we start?"

Quinn sighed heavily. "Kurt, if I knew that, I'd tell you. All I know right now is that we have to connect the part of your mother's soul that is in another universe with the part of her soul that is connected to _your _soul, and send it to Heaven. This isn't going to be easy. This is the most complex thing I've ever heard of and I'm ninety nine percent sure that no-one has ever even attempted to do anything like this before."

Kurt tapped his shoes against his hardwood floor. "You must think this is a little exciting, though, right?"

Quinn glared at him.

"Oh, come on. Think of it like… you're an award-winning surgeon about to embark on a procedure that has never been done before."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "This isn't _Grey's Anatomy_, Kurt. And if it were, I'd be a hotheaded intern who ends up killing the patient."

Kurt frowned at the lap of his denim jeans, his arched eyebrows pulling together.

Quinn once again bit her tongue. "I'm not gonna put you in any danger, though. I won't let things get that intense. I decided that if it gets too dangerous, we have to stop."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that because I already sabotaged myself out of this campaign for you."

Quinn grimaced. "Don't make me feel guilty about that. That was the deal. The deal that _you _offered. Don't make me feel bad for agreeing to it."

"I know, I know," Kurt shook his head, looking absently at a framed poster for Lady Gaga's Monster Ball above his headboard, "Blaine was just… really upset."

"Oh," Quinn frowned, "He really wanted you to win, huh?"

"No, actually. He's just upset that I'm keeping things from him."

"Why don't you tell him what's going on?"

"If he thinks that this spell could be dangerous, he'd just try to stop me."

Quinn shrugged. "Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would support you."

"I can't risk it, Quinn. This is really important to me. This is my mom. Besides, you know exactly what I mean. It's why you haven't told Rachel."

Quinn looked sheepishly back at the spellbook. "I guess you have a point."

Kurt took a deep breath and sat forward in his chair. "So, we can work this out, right? Figure out where to start?"

Quinn closed the spellbook in frustration and narrowed her eyes at Kurt. "What we need to do is consult someone who knows a thing or two about the limitations of witchcraft."

Kurt frowned. "Shelby won't help us."

Quinn smirked a little and took out her cellphone. "No, but her protege might."

xxx

Buffy dragged the unconscious vampire back to the only place where she was certain no-one would find her. She was unsure if the condominium in Lima's artsiest outskirt neighborhood was legally owned by Santana or if Snix had simply killed the previous residents, but the whole place was still just as they had left it months ago. Buffy took the girl inside, where the statue of Acathla was no more, but luckily there were still shackles and bolts from when Snix, Spike and Drusilla had felt particularly torture-happy.

She shackled Santana to a marble column that held up an archway between two spacious, unfurnished rooms. Santana started to stir in the empty room as moonlight flooded through the tall windows and Buffy took a few steps back as the vampire raised her unkempt head of hair. Santana noticed the slayer and immediately lunged at her, growling fiercely. Buffy jumped back, even though Santana's wrists were held in place by the shackles. She couldn't understand why the girl was back or why she was acting like an animal. Her violence wasn't of the cruel, calculated variety that Snix had displayed. It was purely visceral.

All Buffy could be sure of was that the sight of her this way was causing her a lot of pain. She walked to the window and closed the heavy black drapes, to block the sunlight that would rise in a few hours. As she walked toward them, she noticed scorch marks on the ground. The last time she'd been to this house - the only time after Santana's death - was to leave behind the claddagh ring that she had given her. The spot on the floor where she had left it looked like it had been burned black. It was the same spot where Santana had died and by the looks of the girl-shaped clean spot among the scorch marks, it was the spot where she had reappeared.

xxx

Quinn was hunched over her phone in the back of Spanish class as Mr. Schuester launched into a lecture on irregular verbs. She was sitting next to Buffy, who was similarly engrossed in a library book with a fabric over. Quinn was just glad that this was one class she didn't have with her girlfriend, who had decided to transfer to AP French with Kurt. She didn't want to have Rachel notice that Quinn was passionately texting Jesse St. James in a bid to get him to help her with the Elizabeth Project, and have to lie to her. Because of course, Kurt was right. If Blaine or Rachel knew, they would try to stop them, and they couldn't risk that. Unfortunately, Jesse seemed altogether against the idea as well.

Jesse:  
>You have no idea about the forces<p>

that you're playing with, Lucy Q.

Quinn:

The spell to restore Santana's soul was a

success. Why couldn't this be, too? And

don't call me that.

Jesse:

This spell sounds much more complicated.

Quinn:

How so?

Jesse:

Essentially, it seems like it would take more

than one spell. First, you'd have to obtain the

soulpiece that's in an alternative universe. Then,

you'd have to obtain the soul piece attached to

Kurt. Then, you'd have to combine the two into

one seamless soul. The final stage, obviously,

would be to send the soul to Heaven.

Quinn:

What's so hard about that?

Jesse:

Quinn, you can't be serious. You'd have to find

a way to locate a soulpiece, and then you'd have

to figure out how to split a soulpiece from another

soul.

Quinn:

And then what?

Jesse:

Okay, I see what you're doing. I'm not helping you.

Quinn:

If you don't help me, I'm just going to do it

by myself. You know it would be a whole lot

safer if you'd just help me.

She knew she was being manipulative, but she couldn't help it. She'd learned from the best.

"Ms. Fabray?"

Quinn looked from the phone on her lap to see Mr. Schuester staring at her from where he stood next to the whiteboard.

"Can you answer this question?" he asked, his eyebrow raised as he pointed a marker at the question posed on the board.

"Um," Quinn stalled, "Ustedes… uh…"

Mr. Schue sighed. "Less texting, more paying attention, alright?" he frowned and continued with his lesson.

Quinn slid her phone into the pocket of her ripped black jeans, a little embarrassed, reminding herself that Mr. Schuester usually only reprimanded the scoobies so that their classmates wouldn't think he picked favorites. Just as he continued on with his lesson, the bulky intercom crackled in the classroom and Figgins' voice sounded.

"Good afternoon, students and faculty of McKinley High. Please excuse this interruption. All ballots for senior class president were collected and I would like to thank everyone on behalf of the student council for your participation. Your votes were carefully counted and we're glad to announce that your new senior class president is…"

Principal Figgins paused for suspense as Quinn and Buffy raised their heads, listening intently.

"...Sugar Motta."

Quinn's eyes bulged at the intercom speaker. "Sugar Motta?!" she exclaimed aloud.

"Okay, settle down," said Mr. Schuester, even though Quinn had been the only one who spoke.

"She's not even a senior," Quinn hissed at Buffy.

Buffy looked worriedly at the pink-haired girl. "Rachel's gonna flip," she said quietly, looking tired.

Quinn gritted her teeth as the bell rang and everyone gathered their things and shuffled out of the classroom. Quinn slipped away out with her classmates as Buffy slowly put her stuff away, eyes still trained on her book. Will sighed, disappointed with his waste of a class. He raised an eyebrow at Buffy, who was showing more attention to a book than he'd ever seen her give even a _People _magazine. He weaved through the now empty desks to get to the back of the room and put his hand down on Buffy's book to hold her attention.

Buffy looked up, surprised. "Will, sorry. Just, uh, really into this book."

"I didn't know you liked to read," Will said, impressed yet suspicious, and flipped the book closed to read the title, "'Exploring Demon Dimensions: The Mystery of Acathla'...?"

Buffy shrugged, shoving it into her backpack. "It's a Tina recommendation. What can I say? She's a freaky deaky," she smiled awkwardly.

Will cocked his head at the girl. "Buffy," he said in a tone that reminded her of her mother.

Buffy pouted and set her bag down on the ground, taking a seat at her desk. "What would you say if I told you that I had a dream about Santana?"

"I'd say that I wasn't surprised," said Will, "But it must have been quite a dream."

"Oh, why, because I'm reading an actual book?" Buffy joked.

Will smiled sympathetically. "No. Because you seem… shaken."

Buffy nodded, losing her smile. "I dreamed that she was back."

Will nodded, taking a seat at the edge of Buffy's desk. "I had dreams like that, when Emma died. I dreamed that she was still alive. That I saved her."

"But this dream was vivid. Too vivid. HD, Dolby surround sound, the hills are alive with the sound of vampires… You get it."

"Do you think it could've been a prophecy?"

Buffy looked at her desk, her eyebrows knitted. "No. I don't know. It just… makes me wonder. Could it ever happen?"

Will thought about it and answered carefully. "I've never heard of someone returning from Hell. I don't know how or why it would ever happen…"

"Okay, but, hypothetically, if Santana ever wound up back in Lima… what would happen?"

Will narrowed his eyes. "I can't say. Time moves differently in hell dimensions."

"I remember," Buffy mumbled, remembering her not-so-pleasant adventure with Jesse St. James that summer, "So, for Santana, she would've been in Hell for years, probably?"

"Probably."

"Years. Of torture," Buffy said, staring at her desk.

Will nodded, sympathy in his eyes. "It would take a lot of strength to hold on to your sanity, that's for sure," he said with a faraway look.

Buffy paled. "She'd be a lost cause by now."

"Maybe. Maybe not. In my experience, some monsters can be redeemed."

"And others?" asked Buffy, fearing the answer.

"The other kind of monster is devoid of humanity. Doesn't respond to reason. Or love."

Buffy's blood ran cold as Tina entered the room carrying a cardboard tray of powdered donuts.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, assessing the tense atmosphere as she approached the watcher and slayer, "I brought food."

"Thanks, Tina," Will smiled warmly.

"How'd the inspection go last night?" Buffy asked urgently as Will took a donut from the tray.

Tina sighed, looking solemn. "It was inconclusive. I-"

"How could it be inconclusive?! What did it look like? Was it a werewolf or… a vampire?"

"Buffy, let her finish," Will said quietly.

Buffy pursed her lips. "Sorry. Go on, Tina."

"I should know more after tonight," said Tina, "I'm doing hair and fiber tests."

"You have the equipment for that?"

"Well, I think the home science kit my dad got me for my birthday should suffice," Tina shrugged, "I'm just trying to match the fibers to werewolf hair. It should be cake."

Buffy picked at her fingernails, knowing that there was no outcome she could honestly hope for. _Yeah. Cake._


	85. The Bully

**Chapter 82**

**The Bully**

Buffy walked slowly, her eyes on the floor as she headed to the quad to work on her Algebra homework with Joe. Her mind was firmly stuck on Santana, who was still chained up in her empty condo, probably hungry. Buffy was itching for school to be over so she could check on the vampire. Her head snapped up when she heard a hard bang against metal, and narrowed her eyes at Rick the Stick, Piper's mulleted, hockey-playing boyfriend, who had pushed a smaller boy against the wall and was now cornering him.

"Hey!" Buffy called, "Leave him alone!"

Defending a weaker kid against a bully had become commonplace for her at McKinley, and usually the aggressors backed down pretty quickly, deeming a fight with a girl not worth their time. Rick, however, turned toward Buffy, his chest heaving.

"Or what?!" he challenged.

Buffy strode up to him and glanced at the smaller boy he had pushed. He was rosy-cheeked, his light brown hair brushed and gelled into a small quiff.

"You don't want to know," Buffy frowned, glaring at the tall redhead.

"Stay out of my way, Summers," Rick warned.

"Rick, please," said Piper, who was a few feet away, her face heating up in panic, "Let's just go."

"He was hitting on my girl!" Rick bellowed.

"I was j-just asking directions. I have to take a placement test-" the boy tried to explain, his Irish accent stumbling over itself before Rick lunged out and punched a locker.

"Rick!" Piper squealed.

"Walk it off, Mighty Duck!"

Buffy felt a little relieved as Kitty strutted over to them, her face pulled into a frown as she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Rick.

"Come on, Rick," Piper said again quietly, "Let's go."

Rick glanced between Buffy and Kitty, his face red, before he ran a hand through his red hair, slung an arm around Piper and walked off, pulling his girlfriend along with him.

Kitty smirked at Buffy, folding her arms over her striped blouse. "Charming guy. 'Roid rage?" she asked, vaguely amused.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked the boy, who was still cowered against the wall of lockers.

The boy gulped. "Yeah, I'm grand."

"You're Rachel's foreign exchange student, right?" Buffy asked, and shrugged, "This school doesn't get a lot of new students."

The boy nodded. "Rory," he greeted, extending his hand.

"Buffy," she replied, shaking his hand, "And this is Kitty."

"G'day, mate," smirked Kitty.

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Eh, I think that's Australian."

"Whatever," she shrugged, "I'm going to the cafeteria before they run out of Jell-O salad. Later, bitches."

Kitty waggled her fingers at them as they walked away and a few other onlookers dispersed now that the spectacle was over.

"I'm just glad my brothers weren't around to see that," Rory said, straightening his plaid shirt, "Would've given me Hell for not baitin' that bloke. I didn't know everyone in the States would be so aggressive."

Buffy frowned sympathetically. "Well, not _everyone_ is. Some people are actually pretty… sweet."

Speaking of which, Joe turned the corner and locked eyes with Buffy, smiling as he approached but looking nonetheless confused.

"Oh, Joe," Buffy widened her eyes, "Sorry, were you waiting long? I just stopped for a second, some guy was bothering Rory-"

"And you wanted to do your civic bully-whip duty. I get it," Joe nodded, smiling wider and turning to Rory, "Hey."

"Uh, this is Rory. He's an Irish exchange student. He's staying at Rachel's," Buffy introduced him, "And Rory, this my friend, Joe."

"Hi," Rory nodded to him, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, "Could either one of you show me the way to Ms. Drench's room? I'm supposed to be taking a placement test at one o'clock."

"Oh, we can take you there on our way to the quad," said Joe.

Buffy bit her lip. "Uh, actually, I would go but I just remembered that I have to do something so… I'll see you later."

Joe nodded. "Okay," he said with disappointment as Buffy quickly walked off in the other direction.

xxx

"This is the greatest travesty that has ever occurred in the history of William McKinley High School since the broken toilet catastrophe of 2010!"

Principal Figgins squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as Rachel slammed her fist against the surface of his desk. She had stormed into the office in her polka-dotted dress after the announcement of Sugar Motta's election with her nostrils flaring and her thumb hovering over her father's speed-dial number.

"Ms. Berry, please, sit down. This doesn't have to be a spectacle," Figgins sighed, gesturing to the chair that Rachel was standing in front of.

"Oh, no, _you _made this a spectacle when you allowed that spoiled little chihuahua to run in the election in the first place!" Rachel snapped, "Kurt dropped out. Sugar is _fifteen_. This election should be _mine_. Do you think new computers and vending machines will matter to the seniors when they're gone next year? No! The things that are going to matter to them are the things they can take with them when they leave. Like championships and memories of victory a-and _pride _in their school!"

Figgins sighed heavily. "Your speeches are impressive, Ms. Berry, but this is out of my hands."

Rachel's brown eyes bugged out. "Out of your hands? Of all the things to have no control of, I feel that the _principal _of a high school should be more than qualified, willing and able to decide who will be senior class president of that high school. If _that _is out of your hands than what is _in _your hands, you _useless little man?!_"

Figgins gritted his teeth and opened his desk drawer, taking out a thick, fresh pad of detention slips.

xxx

Buffy's boots echoed against the condo's hardwood floor as she made her way into the long empty room, where Santana was still shackled around a column. The girl was cowered against the wall, shivering, mumbling inaudibly to herself in her ripped dress. Buffy had skipped school - skipped her study date with Joe - to visit her and she didn't know why. She didn't know what she was supposed to do now that she was here. She walked closer to Santana. Not close enough to touch her but close enough to be in the vampire's line of sight.

"Santana?" she whispered, just barely loud enough to hear.

The girl made no indication that she could hear or even see the slayer.

"Do you understand me?" Buffy asked, louder now, feeling like an idiot.

Still nothing. Buffy walked closer still, reaching her hand out to touch the girl's shoulder. Santana emitted a low growl as Buffy neared, but the slayer continued to reach out. As soon as her fingers touched the sallow skin of Santana's shoulder, the vampire lunged at her, only held back by the metal confines around her wrists. Buffy jumped back, her raspy breathing almost as loud as Santana's growling.

xxx

"Eh, hello?"

Rory had entered Ms. Drench's room. She was, as he was told, the senior Honors math teacher and would give him a placement test to find which class he should be in. American math classes were organized a little differently than he was used to in Ireland and Ms. Drench was apparently the only one who dealt with international students since she had taught in so many different countries. She was Scottish herself and reminded Rory of an aunt he had on his mother's side.

"Ms. Drench?" he asked.

The woman was in her chair on the other side of her desk. She had her back to Rory and was staring out of the wide window.

"I'm Rory Flanagan. I'm here for my math placement test. Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about… just general things. I guess I should actually go to the guidance counselor, but I thought you would probably understand better, because you know what it's like, being from another country."

Ms. Drench remained silent, still staring out of the window with her back turned. Rory took this as a prompt to continue talking.

"I guess I just didn't expect Americans to be so… well, mean. And maybe I'm just being sensitive. I know there's no way I'm going to tell my family how my first day really went. I know what my brothers would say. 'What are you doing, acting the maggot, letting that idgit bait ya?' Mam would just worry and my dad would tell her it was her fault, for coddling me 'cause I'm the youngest…"

He paused again, this time unnerved by Ms. Drench's silence.

"Ms. Drench?" he called to her again, but she didn't say anything.

Rory walked around the desk to face her and yelled so loud that a teacher who had been passing in the hallway ran into the room, her eyes wide with fear.

"What's going on?!" she asked, alarmed, as some other students crowded over at the door to see the commotion.

Rory looked on at Ms. Drench, horrified. The other teacher ran over and pushed him out of the way to see that Ms. Drench was dead, her face and chest clawed at, her skin shredded to ribbons.

xxx

Buffy, Tina and Quinn were already waiting in the choir room with Mr. Schuester when Rachel had come to find them after receiving a text about an emergency scooby meeting.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked, frowning at the foursome, "Detention was cancelled."

"You got detention?" Quinn raised her eyebrows, almost impressed.

Rachel scowled. "It's a long and arduous story full of injustice that I will most definitely tell you later," she shook her head, and looked at Mr. Schuester, "So what happened?"

Will frowned solemnly. "Ms. Drench, the Honors math teacher, was found dead."

Tina gasped. "She was _my _math teacher," she said, looking mournful.

Buffy folded her arms, staring steadfast at her watcher. "What was it?"

"Same M.O. as the creature we're after," said Will, "Ripped the shreds. But she was reportedly found a few hours ago, and the time of death was at least an hour before that. Daytime."

"So Blaine and Puck are off the hook?" Buffy asked, not looking as much relieved as she was disturbed.

"It looks like that's the case," Will nodded, "By the way, where is Blaine? Puck was looking for him a while ago, to give him a ride to his house before sunset."

The girls looked at each other, but each of them shrugged.

Will grimaced. "Well, he better hurry up and get home."

xxx

Blaine circled the quad another time, burning off anxious energy as he waited for Piper to show up. He glanced at the sky with his eyes shielded and then at his watch. He'd sent Puck a text saying to wait up for him but he was uncertain if the boy had received it. Blaine decided he would only wait fifteen more minutes for Piper and then he had to leave.

"Sorry I'm late!" she called, running towards him with her curly blond hair bouncing around her baby-face, "Did you bring the notes?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, taking a small pile of flash cards out of his satchel and handing them to Piper, clearly in a bit of a rush until he noticed the dark circle around her eye that she was trying to cover up with her bouncy hair, "Are you okay?"

Piper smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. What, this? I'm just such a klutz. I, uh, I, oh…"

She started to babble, trying even harder to direct the attention away from the red swelling on her face that she surely turn into a black eye by tomorrow.

"Fell down?" he finished her sentence, looking concerned, "Hit your eye?"

"Doorknob," Piper smiled, "Anyways, thanks."

She turned to walk away, but Blaine caught up to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, wait. Piper… I know we're not super close friends, but, from the short amount of time I've spent in the glee club, I've noticed that even between the rivalries and the love triangles, everybody in there looks out for each other, so… if you ever need to talk…"

Piper nodded, her smile fading. "Thanks for the notes."

xxx

"Right now, we have to determine what kind of killer we're dealing with. Clearly it's some sort of sadistic animal," said Will, after Kitty and Kurt had joined the scooby meeting at sunset.

Just as Tina raised her head with a new theory, Blaine entered the choir room looking shaken.

"Blaine, where have you been?" asked Kurt, who had been checking his phone every fifteen seconds, waiting for his boyfriend to reply.

"Sorry," Blaine sighed, "I thought I was cutting it kind of close, so I figured I'd lock up behind the auditorium instead of racing to Puck's house."

"Smart," Will nodded.

"It was a daytime kill," Kurt said quickly, standing up and clutching the boy's hand, "Not Puck. Not you."

Blaine sighed with relief and smiled widely at his boyfriend, almost having forgotten the fight they'd had the previous day. "Good. Great."

"We still don't know what it is, though," Quinn folded her arms, looking worried.

"I was about to suggest that the victims have something in common," said Tina, "Jeff Orkin and Ms. Drench?" 

Blaine frowned at the floor and then widened his eyes. "Piper," he said.

"Huh?" Kitty raised an eyebrow.

"Wasn't Jeff a cheerleader?" asked Blaine.

"Yeah, he was," said Will.

"Well, he and Piper probably would've been friends when she was apart of the Cheerios," Blaine continued, and the others looked at Quinn to confirm.

"It's true," said the girl, idly pulling on the collar of her denim jacket, "The bottom of the pyramid tends to stick together."

"Were they screwing?" Kitty asked bluntly, folding her arms over the letters on the chest of her Cheerios uniform.

Quinn frowned. "Doubtful. Let's just say that on the scale of gayness, from Neil Patrick Harris to Liberace, Jeff was somewhere between a Kurt and a Blaine."

"Thank you for that vivid description," Kurt mumbled.

"And Piper was always complaining that Ms. Drench put her in a way too advanced Calculus class," Buffy frowned, "I think she just wanted to be in the same remedial Algebra class as me."

"And get this," said Blaine, "I just saw Piper a minute ago sporting a real nasty black eye.

Buffy widened her eyes and Kitty gave her a knowing look. "And Piper's dating Rick. 'Roid Rage Rick the Stick. What if he's the one doling out the punishment?"

"Yeah, we just saw him trying to wail on Lucky Charms earlier," said Kitty, "He looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel."

"Okay, we need to find them both, now," Will said urgently, grabbing his jacket, "Kitty, Rachel, come with me. Buffy, you stick with Quinn and Tina. Kurt, go cage Blaine behind the auditorium stage, and then come find me, okay?"

The scooby gang split up, and it wasn't long before Buffy, Quinn and Tina found Piper in the girls' bathroom, dabbing creamy foundation around her black eye. She looked away, embarrassed, as the others girls came inside.

"It's tricky, covering a fresh shiner like that," Buffy said softly, walking toward Piper, who was staring into the sink, "You know what works?"

Piper frowned. "What?"

"Don't get hit."

Tina and Quinn hovered by the doorway, looking sympathetic.

"What's going on, Piper?" asked Buffy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the girl.

"Normally I'd be fine playing 'you wanna have a secret' but there are people dying," Buffy said gravely.

Quinn walked forward, not wanting to have to play the sensitive role, but not seeing a way out of it.

"Piper, you know that you can talk to us about anything."

Piper widened her already orb-like eyes at Quinn.

"I can talk to _you _about anything? I worshipped you for two full years and you acted like I was so beneath you. And you!" she snapped, turning to Buffy, "I tried so hard to be like you last year and you didn't even give me the time of day. I have someone who cares about me, who I care about, and I'm not going to let anything ruin it."

"Piper," Tina spoke up, "We do care about you. But caring about someone isn't about telling them whatever they want to hear and being okay with everything they do. Sometimes when you care about someone, you have to be honest with them. Sometimes the worst thing you can do is shield them from the truth."

Piper's bottom lip trembled and Buffy and Quinn both looked at the floor, each feeling the gravity of what Tina was saying.

"It's not his fault," Piper said quietly. Buffy looked up at her. "He's not himself when he gets like this. It's me. I make him crazy. He just… he gets like this because he loves me too much."

The slayer tried desperately not to roll her eyes.

"You mean Rick?" asked Quinn, "But weren't Jeff and Ms. Drench killed by an animal?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Piper. "Rick's not like other guys, is he?"

Piper bit her bottom lip and shoved her foundation back into her purse. "I have to go."

"Piper, you have to talk to us," said Buffy, "We can't help you until you do."

"I didn't ask for your help!" Piper snapped.

"So, are you going to wait until you end up like Jeff and Ms. Drench?" asked Quinn.

"She's right, Piper," said Tina, "We're running out of time. Where is Rick?"

"I don't know," Piper shrugged.

"You're lying," Buffy frowned.

"So what if I am? What are you gonna do about it?" Piper asked brazenly, though she was clearly not quite sure of herself.

Buffy puffed out a breath of air and glanced at Piper's reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Look at yourself," she said, "Why are you protecting him? Anyone who really loved you wouldn't do this to you."

Piper sniffed, holding back tears. "Would they… would they take him away?"

"Probably," Buffy replied softly but firmly.

"I couldn't do that to him," Piper shook her head, "He's everything to me."

"Two people are dead, Piper," Buffy frowned, "Who's gonna be next?"

xxx

Kurt set a lock on the caged off area behind the auditorium where their costumes for _West Side Story _were currently being stored, with Blaine behind the bars.

"This should be enough to hold you," said Kurt, as he slipped the key to the lock on top of a soundboard.

Blaine loosened his bow-tie and took off his shoes as the sunlight started to dim from behind the locked, shoebox-sized window in the room. "Just remember to come get me before school starts tomorrow. I don't want a TA to find me naked."

Kurt smirked and hovered by the cage door, looking concerned.

Blaine gazed at him. "What's wrong?"

Kurt sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, for not telling you before I dropped out of the election."

Blaine nodded, looking similarly remorseful. "It's okay. I was just a little hurt that you wouldn't think that I would understand."

"It's not even that," said Kurt, "It's just… Lately, I feel like when it comes to you, the line between privacy and deception is too thin."

Blaine furrowed his brow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning… there are things that I don't feel obligated to tell other people, but when I don't tell you about them, it feels like lying."

Blaine gave his boyfriend a crooked smirk. "Kurt, you know you can tell me anything."

Kurt sighed. "Yeah. But I know you're not going to like it."

Blaine frowned. "What did you do?"

"I haven't done anything. Yet. Listen, we should talk about this tomorrow. When we have more time."

Blaine nodded, though his face was still pulled into a frown. "Okay… I love you."

Kurt smiled. "I love you, too," he replied, and walked out of the auditorium to find the scoobies.

Blaine sighed, taking off his socks and slipping them into his shoes. He wanted to respect Kurt's privacy, but he was suddenly anxious to find out what his boyfriend had been keeping from him and why he wouldn't like it. He was unbuttoning his red cardigan when someone walked in. He lifted his head to see Rick the Stick slowly approaching the cage, complete with his oversized hockey jersey and his vicious sneer. Blaine's hands paused on his shirt.

"Since when do you talk to my girl?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes at Rick and then glanced at the window and the setting sun beyond it. "Hey, Rick. This is actually kind of a bad time…" he said, his heart pounding.

Rick stepped closer and smacked his hands against the cage, breathing through his flaring nostrils. "I guess you didn't think about that before you messed with Piper."

Blaine frowned. "I didn't mess with Piper. We talked, for a second… You know I'm gay, right?"

"It doesn't matter," Rick scowled, "I know that you and your little glee club are trying to turn my girl against me.

Rick put his fingers through the cage and rattled it in an attempt to intimidate Blaine. While the boy visibly looked frightened, it wasn't for himself.

"Listen, Rick, you should get out of here," Blaine said gravely, "When this sun sets-"

Rick said through gritted teeth, "You won't be alive to see it."

Blaine frowned. "I'm serious. If you're here when it gets dark out, you're going to see something that you probably won't believe."

Rick, with his hands gripping the cage, jerked forward in pain, his back bended over the ground. He jerked back, like an invisible force had pulled him, his neck twisting, his head snapping from side to side. Blaine watched in horror as Rick convulsed, the skin on his face bubbling and cracking. When he finally stopped shaking and looked up at Blaine, his human face was gone and replaced with that of a red, blistered demon.

Blaine widened his eyes at the monster and gulped. "Or, you might."

Rick stuck his hands back into the cage and ripped off the door with one lightning quick tug, yelling with an un-human noise. Blaine backed into the small room as Rick lunged at him, grabbed the boy by his shoulders and threw him out into the backstage area of the auditorium, behind the closed red curtains.

xxx

"He does love me. He does love me."

Piper was still staring into the sink, hugging herself as she tearfully reassured the room over and over again that Rick loved her.

"This is useless," Buffy glared at the girl, hands on her hips, "We have to go. I have to find Rick."

"I think we broke her," said Quinn, as she put her arm over Piper's shoulders and tried to lead her away from the girls' room sinks.

Buffy frowned hard back at her friend, though there was a trace of sympathy in her eyes. "I think she was pretty broken before this."

xxx

Rick grabbed Blaine again by his shirt, tearing the collar as he threw the boy against the curtains. Blaine sailed through the red fabric and rolled out onto the stage, trying to get back up on sore muscles, until Rick grabbed him from behind and slammed him back down on the small row of steps that led onstage. Blaine groaned in pain until his watch beeped, warning him that the sun had set.

"Time's up," he groaned.

As Rick was about to grab the boy again, Blaine felt his bones move out of place. Thick tufts of hair grew quickly from his face and chest, and his shirt and chinos started to rip, giving way to his transformation. Blaine bared his teeth, his transformation complete. He was his wolf self now, and when his brown eyes locked onto Rick, he pounced.

Buffy, Tina and Quinn had been leading Piper down the hall just as Will, Rachel, Kitty and Kurt were turning the corner to meet them.

"Any sign of Rick?" asked Buffy, as Piper's head jerked up hopefully.

Will shook his head in disappointment, but he was carrying the same tranquilizer gun that had been used to subdue Blaine when he had first become a werewolf. Just as Will was about to address Piper, the group heard a pained yell coming from down the hall, beyond the auditorium doors.

"What was that?!" Kurt exclaimed.

"Take this!" Will said quickly, handing Buffy the tranquilizer gun.

The slayer slung the gun over her shoulder and ran toward the auditorium with the other scoobies, plus Piper, following quickly on her heel. She ran through the doors to see Blaine onstage, now transformed into a wolf the size of a Mini Cooper, attacking what appeared to be a hulked out version of Rick the Stick, who was holding his own, surprisingly well, against the werewolf.

The scoobies rushed through the seats and Buffy raised the gun, but Piper panicked and ran at her, pushing her and yelling, "Rick, watch out!"

Buffy's finger slid against the trigger as she swung around with the gun and just as an airy pop sounded, Will yelled, "Ow!"

Buffy gasped as she spotted the feathered tranquilizer sticking out of the back of Will's tapered jeans.

"Perfect," Will glowered sarcastically just before he fell over, his legs seemingly turned to jelly.

Before Buffy could help him up, Blaine abandoned his new chew toy and bounded over a bunch of seats, running straight out of a fire escape door. Buffy raised her tranquilizer gun once more, but he was already gone. She quickly handed the gun over to Kitty.

"You get the wolf," she ordered.

"Got it," Kitty nodded and ran toward the fire escape with the gun in her hands, followed by Kurt.

"Quinn," Buffy snapped at the pink-haired girl, "Go make sure Kurt doesn't get himself hurt."

Quinn nodded dutifully and ran after the boy, the slayer and the werewolf just as Rachel and Tina kneeled over Mr. Schuester to attempt to lift his now unconscious body from the floor. Buffy bounded on stage, now weaponless, just as Rick was picking his pummelled body off of the ground. Just as he stood, Buffy threw a punch at his demonic face. He ducked and grabbed her by the waist, pushing her into the curtains and running away while she was tangled in the fabric.

Buffy shook the curtain off of her and ran down the aisle, past Tina and Rachel, who now had Will in an upright position, and out of the auditorium doors. She chased Rick down a hallway, but when she turned a corner, he had disappeared. She kept her eyes peeled as she ran out into the quad. As she ran down the path that led out of the school's southernmost exit, she tripped over something and stumbled to the floor. She sat up and widened her eyes at Piper's body, on the ground, completely still. Her eyes were open and her neck bloodied.

"Oh, God…" Buffy sighed as she laid her eyes over Piper's dead body. She had been too late.

She laid a hand on Piper's face and closed her lavender eyelids, the slayer's stomach turning with rage when someone pulled at the back of her jacket. Rick had lifted her up and spun her around, punching her straight in the face. Buffy stumbled back, temporarily dizzy, but swung out her fist and collided with Rick's chest. He barely reeled from the sloppy blow and growled, "The same. You're all the same."

He punched Buffy once more and knocked her to the floor, but she found her equilibrium and kicked up, the heel of her boots making a thud against Rick's abdomen. Rick stumbled back and Buffy leapt onto her feet. Before she could run forward and incapacitate the boy, someone brushed past her to get to Rick. Buffy widened her eyes at the barefoot, barely dressed girl. It was Santana.

The vampire wrists were still shackled and battered, obviously having broken the marble column she had been chained around. She used the heavy chains to attack Rick's demonic face. Rick pushed her away and headed for Buffy, but Santana leapt back at him and wrapped the chains around his neck, pulling hard and jerking around until their was a sickening crack. Buffy winced as Rick fell to the floor, limp.

Santana unwrapped the chains from his neck, panting heavily. She stood over him and stared at the body before looking back up at Buffy. The slayer was frozen, half expecting the vampire to corner her and attack now that she had gotten Rick out of the way. Santana took a few steps forward, her fangs sliding back behind her teeth as her face returned to normal. She peered at Buffy with a surprising look of coherence and spoke for the first time, her voice hoarse.

"...Buffy?"

Buffy almost gasped. She didn't realize how much one word would affect her. She thought she'd never hear Santana say her name again, but here they were, and it was almost too much to bear. Tears flooded from the slayer's eyes as Santana dropped to her knees and slid her arms around Buffy's waist. "Buffy."

xxx

"So, the whole school knows."

Rachel had her cellphone held between her ear and her shoulder as she retrieved a typed-up letter to the board of education, complaining about the corruption of school government. She hadn't planned to actually send it before she could at least intimidate Principal Figgins with it.

"I'm assuming they don't know about Rick's Dr. Jekyll situation," she said.

Buffy had called her early that morning with the news that school was cancelled that day after Piper and Rick's bodies were discovered on school grounds. The whole place was now a crime scene, but Lima had mastered efficiency in the face of horrific death, so things would be back to normal by the next day.

"I feel so bad," the slayer said on the other line, "I know everyone in glee club would have helped Piper if we knew she needed help, but we didn't. We never talked to her. In fact, we actively avoided her."

"Don't blame yourself, Buffy," Rachel shook her head.

"I wasn't. I was blaming all of us."

"Well, don't do that, either. Rick was a maniac, using some sort of heinous mixture of science and magic to turn himself into a demon. There's nothing we could have done."

Buffy sighed. "I guess you're right. I have to go drag my mom away from the TV before Rod Remington really convinces her that Rick actually went crazy after drinking nine iced mochas. She'll never let me go to the Lima Bean again."

Rachel smirked. "See you," she said, and hung up the phone, when someone knocked on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called just as Hiram stuck his head in.

"Since you kids don't have school today, LeRoy suggested we get brunch at The Hungry Bagel," he smiled.

"Sounds great," Rachel smiled, setting her letter of complaint down on her desk.

"Good. Tell Rory we're leaving in ten," he said, and ducked back out of the room.

Rachel slipped on a draped, white cardigan and headed down the hall toward the guest room where Rory was staying. She knocked on the slightly ajar door and it swung open to reveal Rory inside, shoving clothes into a suitcase that was open on the bed.

"Rory," Rachel frowned, "What are you doing?"

Rory looked up at her, taken aback. "I… I was… packing."

"I can see that," Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

Rory frowned and took a seat on his freshly made bed. "I can't take it here anymore."

"What? Why not?"

"First I find Ms. Drench… like _that_. Then those two students get killed. Everyone at school seems to hate me," he said, and looked up at Rachel, "I'm well aware _you_ don't like me."

Rachel frowned, her brow knitted. "Oh, Rory…" she trailed off, putting her hand to her chest, "I'm so sorry if I made you feel… unwelcome. I just haven't exactly been in the perfect frame of mind recently, with this rigged election and having to play a _supporting _character in the school musical… Now that I'm saying it out loud, my problems don't sound all that bad, actually."

Rory didn't say anything and just continued to stare at the carpet. Rachel sighed and closed the door behind her, taking a seat next to Rory on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Rory, really. I can't imagine how tough it must be to come to a new place, let alone a place like Lima. But I promise to be a better host sister, okay? I can even give you an official tour of McKinley tomorrow and introduce you to all my friends. And you know what? You should join glee club!"

Rory wrinkled his nose. "Glee club?"

"Yeah! I've heard you singing Michael Buble in the shower. You're not half bad."

Rory smirked, blushing. "I didn't realize you could hear that."

Rachel smiled and squeezed Rory's shoulder. "Please, stay for the rest of the semester, at least. And if you still hate it here by Christmas, we can book you a flight back to Ireland. But give me a chance to convince you to stay. It could be fun for me! I always wanted a little brother!"

Rory smiled crookedly and nodded. "Okay. Just don't tell your dads I was packing my things. I'll join glee club."

"Great!" Rachel made a fist of victory, "You'll love it. Everybody in glee club is really close. We all stick out for each other. We try to, anyways."

Rory nodded. "Good. I guess it'll make it a whole lot easier, having a support system."

Rachel dropped her smile and widened her eyes. "Rory, you're a genius!"

"I am?"

"Yes!" she said, and hopped off of the bed, "Tell my dads I won't be able to go to brunch. I have a proposal to write!"


	86. The Compromise

**Chapter 83**

**The Compromise**

**a/n: I'll admit, this chapter feels like a little bit of a filler with not a lot of action but I'm ramping up to some more plot-heavy storylines and I thought that all of this dialogue was pretty essential to understanding where the story was going. That, and I've been on a writing binge lately, so I hope you enjoy. Thank you!**

The engine on Kurt's Impala popped as he came to a stop beside the dumpsters in the school parking lot. He turned off the ignition, shoved his keys into his leather-sleeve raincoat and looked over at his boyfriend, who was sitting proper in the passenger seat.

"Can you just tell me what's going on?" asked Blaine, whose thick eyebrows were pulled together in concern.

Kurt had picked him up and spent the entire drive over intricately explaining his mother's past - her strange death concerning the Djinn and her entrapment in an alternate universe. Blaine's knowledge of his boyfriend's mother was vague. Kurt talked about his mother but never launched into great detail and Blaine never pushed him. He was suddenly explaining every intricacy and theory to Blaine in some sort of prelude to a confession that would explain why he had been acting so secretive.

Kurt sighed deeply and leaned back in his seat. "Because of the dreams I've been having lately, the only thing that makes sense to me is that when she died, her soul was left behind in the alternate world that the Djinn created for her, and that world has… gone wrong. I think she's suffering. And I have to do something to save her."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"I don't know how exactly, yet, but Quinn is going to help me and possibly Jesse St. James, too. I thought it was a matter for witchcraft."

"Okay…" Blaine nodded, looking away as he tried to organize his thoughts, "So, why don't you get help from Ms. Corcoran? She's a witch. And she has seniority. I mean, she could probably be the most helpful and she was mostly responsible for restoring Santana's soul…"

Kurt had averted his gaze, looking guiltily out of the car door window as his classmates passed them, walking into school, greeting each other.

"What?" asked Blaine when he didn't respond, "Why wouldn't she be able to help?"

"She would, she just… She won't."

Blaine stared imploringly at the boy. "Why not?" 

"I asked and she's not going to help because she thinks it's too… volatile."

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "And other synonyms for dangerous? Kurt, why does she thinks it's dangerous? Didn't they basically do the same thing for Santana? And it worked."

"Yes, but it's a little more complicated this time."

"Why?" asked Blaine, sternly staring at his boyfriend.

Kurt ran his hands over his jeans and searched for an explanation that wouldn't sound so alarming. "Before my mother died… Before she left Lima, she wanted to make sure I would be safe without her. She had Shelby… split her soul. Just, take a piece of it out. A part of the piece that made her a slayer, and… give it to me. That's where, I think, my powers come from. Because… I can't be a slayer. It's just not possible. So instead of physical powers, I got psychic ones."

Blaine continued to squint at Kurt, just barely able to understand the situation. "I think… I mean, you mentioned this before, but…"

"I don't think she can ever truly be at rest… go to Heaven… unless the part of her soul that she gave to me is reunited with the rest of it."

Blaine frowned, staring out of the window in front of him for a few long seconds. "You want to get Quinn to remove part of your soul?"

Kurt shook his head. "Part of my mother's soul."

"But she _gave _it to you. Organ donors don't get to reclaim their organs. That's _your _soul."

"Blaine, you're not listening. My mother is suffering and she deserves to go to Heaven. I have to help her."

Blaine shook his head. "I thought you were an atheist."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't believe in Heaven."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't… I don't know. A year ago, I wouldn't have believed in alternative realities and psychic powers. Two years ago, I would've thought that vampires and witches belonged only in cheesy young adult novels, but things change. Anything is possible."

"So isn't it possible that she doesn't _need _that one piece of her soul? Maybe if you free her from her universe, that's all she'll need to go to Heaven."

"_Maybe_, but there's no way we can be sure. I have to know that I've done everything I can possibly do to help her."

Blaine turned his head and frowned out of the window. "Ms. Corcoran must think it's dangerous for a reason, Kurt. What if you get hurt? What if you lose all of your soul, not just the part that your mother gave you?"

Kurt frowned at the steering wheel. "That's a risk I have to take."

Blaine whirled back to look at him, his eyes narrowed in a harsh glare. "It's not just you taking a risk, Kurt. Have you even thought about me or your dad, or Finn and Carole, if something happens to you? All of your friends? You're not the only one who will lose something. And if something does happen, I will hate myself if I hadn't said anything to stop you."

Kurt exhaled sharply. "You're going to try to stop me?"

"I'm going to try to reason with you," Blaine pleaded, "You're putting yourself in danger. You're putting Quinn and Jesse in danger! What if they get hurt trying to help you?"

Kurt shook his head. "Quinn says that if she thinks things are getting too dangerous, we stop."

"Oh, that's very reassuring," Blaine said sarcastically, "Coming from a girl who throws fireballs from her hands and whose previous best friend was a vampire. I wouldn't exactly say that I trust her guage of danger."

"She's smart, Blaine," said Kurt, defensive, "And she's thorough. It took a hell of a lot of convincing to get her to help-"

"Hang on," said Blaine, raising a hand, "Is that why you dropped out of the class president campaign? So that Rachel would win and her girlfriend would help you?" 

Kurt remained silent, pursing his lips tightly together.

"Oh my God," Blaine breathed, "So that whole thing about it being too much for you-"

"I wasn't lying," Kurt said quickly, "With everything going on, it _would_ be too much."

"But you decided not to tell me what was _really _going on."

"I'm telling you _now_!" Kurt said desperately. 

Blaine frowned, looking halfway toward sympathetic as he stared at and sussed out his boyfriend. "I don't want to see something bad happen to you."

"You won't," Kurt assured him, "If you want… you can sit in with us while we figure it out. You can be there for every spell and every meeting. If you think it's getting too dangerous, just say when."

Blaine mulled it over, glancing out of the window at the now nearly-empty parking lot. "No-one else knows?"

"Just the four of us," said Kurt.

"You don't feel weird keeping this from the rest of the scoobies?" 

"Of course I do, but I can't risk any of them trying to stop me. The only reason I told you was because… I love you. And I thought you deserved to know."

Blaine almost smiled, before the bell rang in the distance and his expression turned to confliction. "We're going to be late for class."

The boys got out of the car and walked into McKinley's entrance, Blaine a few steps ahead as Kurt wondered whether his boyfriend was going to support the Elizabeth Project or attempt to derail it. Truthfully, Kurt didn't know how dangerous this project would get and knew he wouldn't want to stop at the level of risk that the others were comfortable with. He knew he would risk almost everything to give his mother the fate she deserved.

As they walked into the school's main hallway, they immediately noticed the wide flatscreen monitor installed where the bulletin board used to be. It was playing a loop of pictures informing students about hockey team tryouts, reminders of rehearsals for the school play and a list of that weeks' cafeteria lunches.

"Can you believe this?!" Rachel called from down the hall.

She headed toward the boys, walking quickly in her glittery pumps, his small fists balled, as the few lingering students headed off to class. She approached the boys and waved a dramatic hand at the monitor.

"Paid for by Daddy Motta," she frowned sourly, "Luckily, I'm willing to put this whole mess behind us and propose a compromise."

Kurt blinked flatly at her. "Oh, joy."

"Yes, but Blaine, I need your help," she said sweetly, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"With what?" Blaine sighed, irritable.

"You'll see," Rachel smiled, "Come on, Sugar is waiting for us in Principal Figgins office."

"Wait, what?!" Blaine demanded as Rachel grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her down the hall.

Kurt furrowed his brow and glanced once more at the monitor. It was now showing a glittery picture announcing McKinley's homecoming dance, making a little tiara and disco ball dance under the date and time. A striking pain flashed through Kurt's mind like a lightning bolt as images of the homecoming dance and an overwhelming sense of danger came to light behind his eyelids. The vision passed and he stood upright, a dull pain lingering on his temples as he made sure no-one saw him. He walked briskly to his locker, certain he was late for class, as he took his cellphone out of his pocket and texted Buffy. Meanwhile, Rachel led Blaine into Principal Figgins office, still tightly holding onto his wrist.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked as they went inside.

Principal Figgins was waiting at his desk, impatiently tapping his pen against the surface, while Sugar sat opposite him, in her plaid jumpsuit and newsboy cap embellished in fake jewels, attempting to take a selfie with her phone.

"I'd like to ask the same question," said Figgins, unamused, as Rachel took a seat on the chair next to Sugar, smoothing down her pleated skirt as she sat, "It's not common for a student to schedule a meeting with the principal. Usually they just walk in, like you did yesterday on your little tirade."

Blaine took a seat on the thin lounge against the wall as Rachel smiled politely, smoothing down her hair.

"I prefer 'ardent testimony'," she said, "But don't worry, I'm going to be perfectly civilized today. I wanted to make a proposal regarding the standstill situation of the senior class presidency."

Sugar un-pursed her lips and lowered her phone, tearing herself away from her pursuit of the perfect selfie. "Standstill? Um, last time I checked, I am the undisputed winner."

"Yes, except that you are not a senior and you are not undisputed because _I _have disputed it," said Rachel, keeping a saccharine smile on her face.

"Did you call a meeting to demand a recount?" asked Blaine, "Why do I need to be here? Kurt dropped out so I really don't care who won."

Rachel raised her chin. "Principal Figgins, can you please give me permission to continue my proposal without interruption?"

Figgins sighed and leaned back in his leather swivel chair. "Make this is fast as possible, Ms. Berry."

Rachel glanced at Sugar and Blaine. "My initial intention was to alert the school board of Principal Figgins' incompetence and have him fired, forcing our new principal to prove his capabilities by enforcing the very basic and implied rule that only _seniors _can be senior class president."

Figgins gritted his teeth. "And your intention now?"

"Well, I realized that if I really wanted to be the model class president, my concentration shouldn't be on securing a position of power, but on improving my school," Rachel continued, laying an altruistic hand on her chest, "And I don't believe that just one person can accomplish what needs to be done to improve McKinley, not only for the seniors, but for our underclassmen who will be experiencing these changes, possibly for the next four years."

"Can you please cut to the chase, Ms. Berry?" asked Figgins.

Rachel sighed. "Fine. I propose that for the first time in McKinley history, the three of us share the school council's leadership role. We all have strengths we can bring to the table. The technology that Sugar's father can fund brings a lot to the quality of education at our school. While personally, I find it tacky, touch-screen monitors in place of bulletin boards can save the school a small fortune in printing. Meanwhile, Blaine and I can concentrate on an equally important initiative-"

"No," Blaine shook his head, "I'm not putting my time and energy into a Keep McKinley Classy campaign."

"That's not what I was going to say," said Rachel, "I was going to say… That we're all in high school together. We're all going through this awkward, scary stage in life at the same time and it creates tension. It creates bullies. And victims. But what it should be creating is comradery. We should all be looking out for each other. No student should have to leave the school because of emotional or physical torment. And after what happened with Rick and Piper… Everyone needs to be reminded that their school should be a safe place."

Figgins pursed his lips. "What are you suggesting?"

"A zero-tolerance bullying initiative. Like Dalton Academy," Rachel nodded encouragingly at Blaine.

"Ms. Berry, this a public high school," said Figgins, "We will have a much more difficult time enforcing those kinds of rules. We don't have the same power to expel as private schools like Dalton Academy do."

"I know. That's why I thought that a support group should be assembled."

"A support group?" asked Blaine, intrigued.

"Yes," Rachel said, almost excited, "A group of senior students whose duty it is to spread awareness of bullying whenever they see it. Students can talk to them about their problems when it feels too intimidating to go to a teacher. We can even assign a few freshman to each member, so our underclassmen have someone they can turn to for advice and guidance."

Blaine stuck his tongue into his cheek. "That's actually a good idea. That's a great idea. Where did you come up with it?"

"What does that mean?" asked Rachel, "Like I couldn't come up with it on my own?"

Blaine raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever. I think it's a nice idea, if we can pull it off."

"So you guys would be class president, too?" Sugar wrinkled her nose, "But I already chose 'swag' as this years' theme for the homecoming dance. You can't change it!" 

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You can keep your terrible theme."

"Oh," said Sugar, and shrugged, "Well, okay. I guess that means less work for me."

"Principal Figgins?" Rachel asked encouragingly.

Figgins sighed. "Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine nodded. "I think I'd make a good co-president."

Figgins tapped his pen against the desk once more. "Technically, there has to be another school-wide vote."

"Oh, now you care about the rules," Rachel mumbled.

"_But_," Figgins interjected, "Ms. Motta can employ you both as her vice presidents. It's basically the same job with a different title and less honor."

Rachel gritted her teeth at the idea of being Sugar Motta's vice president, but she smiled politely and said, "Deal."

xxx

"Tony, the trouble is large! The sharks bit hard! We got to stop them now, and we need you!"

The other theater kids watched patiently from the side stage as Puck and Blaine acted out an early scene from _West Side Story _in the auditorium, making emphatic gestures as they read from the bulky scripts that Mr. Schuester had printed for them. The curtain swayed behind them, ripped to ribbons from last week's incident. The glee club planned to make an appeal to Sugar Motta and her father's bottomless wallet to have it replaced.

Kurt sat at one of the front scenes, between Buffy and Rachel, watching diligently. In the back of his mind, he recognized that he would be insanely jealous if it weren't for the fact that he had more important things to worry about. If it had just been a normal year and he went to a normal school in a normal town, he would have hated the fact that his boyfriend was playing the male lead in the school musicaland he wasn't. He would have hated that a jock like Puck got the part of Riff and he didn't. But Kurt wasn't jealous. If anything, he was grateful that he'd get to play a background Jet with barely any lines. He had been distracted when he auditioned and would surely be distracted onstage.

He recognized Blaine's disconnected expressions in an otherwise flawless performer and felt guilty for dropping such a huge bomb on him before rehearsals. He didn't even think about the fact that his boyfriend would have trouble concentrating on his lines. The two boys finished their scene just before Tony's first musical number and Mr. Schuester ordered them all to take five. Buffy turned to Kurt, her expression hardened.

"Can you remember anything specific?" she asked in a hushed tone as the theater kids started to talk amongst themselves.

Kurt shook his head. "Just the basics. Homecoming. Danger."

Buffy sighed, irritably. "Great. This town wants to make sure I never get to have fun."

"Speaking of homecoming," Rachel smiled, leaning closer to both of them, "I think we should get a limo."

"A limo? Aren't they expensive?" asked Quinn, who had approached the others with a script rolled up in her hand and Tina behind her, both of them taking a seat with the other scoobies.

"Not if we all chip in," said Rachel, "I think it could be fun."

"I never really cared about homecoming," said Tina, "But it_ is_ our last one. Maybe we should make a big deal out of it. What do you think, Buff?"

Buffy looked over, unconvincingly enthusiastic. "Yeah, maybe… If the world doesn't end."

"I had a vision," Kurt explained quietly.

"That the world would end at homecoming?" asked Quinn, "I mean, it probably will for Morgan if she doesn't win the crown, but I didn't think that would affect the rest of us."

"I don't know what's going to happen. I just saw… danger," said Kurt.

"Spiked punch danger or end of times danger?" asked Quinn.

"I don't know…" Kurt sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Somewhere in between?"

"Either way, we're all going to be there," Rachel said encouragingly, "So, limo? Anybody?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know. If there's going to be a big bad at homecoming, I'll probably lurk around in combat boots. I don't really see myself joining in on corsages and Adele remixes and… limos." 

"Come on, Buffy," Rachel sighed, "It's our last homecoming. A couple weeks ago, we didn't even think you'd be back here to celebrate with us. What's wrong? You don't have a date?"

Kurt sat upright as Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Joe didn't ask you to homecoming yet?" he asked.

Buffy frowned. "To be fair, I haven't really given him a chance. I've been busy with other stuff."

"What stuff?" asked Tina, "Scooby stuff? Should the rest of us be helping?"

"No," Buffy said quickly, "Just, regular slayer stuff. Patrolling on would-be date nights and whatnot. I've never really had a lot of time for romance."

"Back to work," Mr. Schuester called as he walked back into the auditorium with a coffee in hand, "Blaine, warm up for _Something's Coming_."

xxx

Quinn's phone bleeped on the nightstand. She remained cross-legged on the bed, staring at Wiccan blogs on her laptop screen as she picked it up and answered without looking to see who it was.

"Hello?"

"Quinn." It was Kurt. "What are you doing?"

"Homework," Quinn said curtly, "Why are you calling me?"

"I wanted to tell you something."

"Something you couldn't text me?"

Quinn could practically feel Kurt roll his eyes before he sighed, "I told Blaine."

Quinn wrinkled her brow. "Huh?"

"I told him what we're trying to do with my mom's soul."

"What do you mean you told him, Kurt?" asked Quinn, glancing at the bedroom door, "You were the one who convinced me that we can't tell anyone. I haven't even told Rachel."

"I know, I know, but I decided to tell him, okay? He's not mad. I mean, he was, but he knows it's important to me. He knows he can't stop me. So he wants to help."

Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand to her temple. "He wants to help how?"

"He knows someone who goes to Dalton. A warlock."

Quinn snapped her eyes open. "Who?"

"Some guy named Sebastian."

Quinn's heart dropped. "Sebastian Smythe?"

"You know him?"

"Used to," Quinn mumbled, "I'm not sure getting him involved is such a great idea."

"What? Why not?"

"He's… kind of a bad influence. I knew him in elementary school-"

"Elementary school? Quinn, it's possible that you don't know him as well as you used to."

Quinn sighed. "If the time comes when we need someone helps, we can consider talking to him, okay?"

"I'm meeting him tonight."

Quinn blinked. "What do you mean? Where?"

"Blaine is taking me to this bar in Westerville called Scandals. Sebastian's gonna be there. I'm going to meet him and see if he can help us."

"Kurt, you're getting ahead of yourself. You don't want to bring Sebastian Smythe into your life unless you can absolutely help it."

"I think you're being dramatic, Quinn. You haven't seen Sebastian since elementary school, right? You're remembering a twelve-year-old, at best."

Quinn pouted. "I knew him in middle school, too."

"Oh, of course, because everyone remains exactly who they were in middle school."

Quinn just shook her head. "Do whatever you want, Kurt."

"Quinn-"

Quinn hung up the phone and tossed it onto the edge of the bed. She stared at the clock on her laptop and feared she had been a little theatrical. Maybe Kurt was right and Sebastian had changed since they were kids. Still, the thought of him resurfacing into her or her friends lives after all this time made her stomach turn. The time read 7:01 and like clockwork, Jesse's screen-name appeared on her Skype message board and he started to call. Quinn clicked the green answer button and Jesse's face appeared onscreen, with little more than a headboard and a brick wall painted white as his backdrop.

"Jesse," she sighed, more relieved to see him again than she thought she would be, "We might have an issue."

"Already?" he asked, knitting his dark eyebrows together, "Is it too late for me to back out of helping you?"

Quinn just shook her head at the boy's image. "You cut your hair."

"Your skills of deduction are comparable only to the great Sherlock Holmes."

"Kurt's planning on asking another warlock for help."

Jesse's cunning smirk faded. "Who?"

"Sebastian."

Jesse balked. "Sebastian Smythe?"

"Do we both know another Sebastian?"

"Stan. Bach. The lobster from _The Little Mermaid_."

"Yes, Jesse, we're reclaiming Kurt's mother's soul with the help of an animated sea creature."

Jesse glanced at something offscreen, looking consumed in anxiety. "That _is _an issue."

"Is it? I mean, my memories of Sebastian aren't exactly favorable, but they're just memories. I haven't seen him since middle school, have you?" 

"No," Jesse frowned, "Still. I wouldn't trust him."

"Well, I would have said the same thing about you, but we're friends again, aren't we?"

"I am not like Sebastian," Jesse said defensively.

"You're not?" asked Quinn, unconvinced.

Jesse frowned like he was trying to mask something. "He was worse after you left. He was all about power."

"And you weren't?"

"I cared about control. There's a difference. Witchcraft is a balance of power and control. Sebastian never really shared that belief."

Quinn shrugged. "Maybe he's changed."

Jesse frowned. "Don't you remember what it was like, Quinn? He's the reason we stopped being friends."

"You can't blame him, Jesse. You _chose _to…" Quinn trailed off, not wanting to relive the past, "You got in too deep and made some bad choices. He was a bad influence, but you can't lay all the blame on him."

"He _was _a bad influence," Jesse nodded, "And don't you think he would just use this as an opportunity to have some more reckless fun. That's all he's about, you know. Fun. He could care less about helping people."

"Because the both of us were such saints," Quinn tilted her head sardonically.

Jesse frowned on-screen, shaking his head and lagging just a fraction of a second. "You stopped trusting me. But you were _afraid _of him. Not just afraid of his powers, but of what he was really capable of. Witchcraft or not."

xxx

Buffy tip-toed down a long hallway in the condo, holding a brown paper bag in both hands. She had poked her head in and out of a couple rooms - one being an unfurnished chef's kitchen that she hadn't seen before - until she found the hall that led toward the two main rooms. Santana had been staying there, having unearthed a couch from the basement. She turned into the doorway when Santana appeared in front of her. Buffy jumped back a little, breathless.

"Santana," she sighed.

The girl was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were a little too short for her. Clothes that Buffy had brought her.

"It's just me," said the slayer to the stone-faced vampire, "Here."

She handed her the brown paper bag and Santana peered inside, although she already knew what it was. She nodded gratefully but for once in her life felt too awkward to speak. She had been cooped up in her condo for a week now. Neither she nor Buffy wanted anyone to know she was back. Not yet. The vampire was still dealing with the onslaught of memories of when she was soulless and the trauma that followed.

Santana walked into the wide room that would have been a charming, spacious living room if there were anything in it besides an old couch and a cardboard box full of Virginia Andrews novels that Buffy took from her mother and claimed she would donate to charity. Buffy followed her inside as the vampire removed the plastic cup of butchers' blood from the bag, her stomach practically growling.

"How are you feeling?" Buffy asked quietly.

Santana cupped the blood with her back turned. "It hurts less," she said in a quiet voice that was barely hers.

"Good," Buffy nodded, balling her fists and preparing herself to keep speaking, "You know I haven't told any of the others. That you're back, I mean. And I'm not going to. I don't think they would understand, that you're better. Quinn might, but… I want to give you a chance, you know? I want to keep helping you get back to normal, it's just… things are different now. I'm a senior. I'm really working harder in school. I'm even thinking about college. And… I'm seeing someone."

Santana flinched and turned around to face Buffy, though she didn't say anything. Just held a stern expression for a moment too long before she turned back around and took a seat on the couch, still holding her cup of blood, like she was too tired to stand. Too tired to listen.

"His name is Joe," Buffy continued, "He's nice. And I need… someone I can count on."

Santana turned her head in the other direction. Buffy took that as a cue to stop talking.

xxx

"This isn't as… scandalous as I'd imagined."

Kurt smirked at his boyfriend as they both took in the environment of the elusive Scandals night-club. It was possibly the saddest gay bar Kurt could ever have imagined, looking more like a dive bar than a hook-up hotspot.

"Where's Sebastian?" Kurt asked over a thumping Donna Summer song.

Blaine quickly scoped out the room before locking eyes with someone at the bar. "There," he smiled, and pointed to a tall, slender boy with high-class posture and a popped collar on his layered polo shirt. He was smiling back at them, his pale eyes twinkling.

"That's your friend?"asked Kurt, taken aback by how traditionally good-looking he was.

"Well, we weren't close, but we did bond over demonology," Blaine smiled, enthusiastic as he waved at Sebastian and led Kurt over to him.

"Well, hello," Sebastian smiled, "I'm so glad you guys could make it. Now everything is right as Blaine."

He lifted his drink - something very blue - and took a large swig.

"Sebastian, this is my boyfriend, Kurt," Blaine introduced him, laying a hand on Kurt's back.

Sebastian raised his eyebrow a little. "Oh, so you're the one dabbling in witchcraft?"

Kurt glanced around to make sure no-one was eavesdropping, and Sebastian just laughed and waved him off.

"You don't have to worry about the people in here," he said, "This place is full of freaks."

Kurt cleared his throat, still feeling uncomfortable. "I'm not dabbling. I just… need help. It's kind of a sensitive project, so there's not a large margin for error."

Sebastian smirk. "Good. I work best when the stakes are high."

Kurt frowned. "Yeah, well, it's kind of sophisticated."

Sebastian laughed again. "And I'm not sophisticated?"

"I just mean… I already have friends helping me with it who just barely have experience with this kind of thing."

"Warlocks."

"One warlock. And one witch."

Sebastian smirked knowingly. "You wouldn't be talking about Jesse St. James and Lucy Fabray by any chance?"

Kurt paused. "She goes by Quinn."

Sebastian threw his head back and laughed harder. "Of course she does," he said, practically wiping a tear from his eye, "You know what? I'd be glad to help you, Fancy."


	87. The Homecoming

**Chapter 84**

**The Homecoming**

Tina swung open her locker door and shoved her stack of next period's supplies into her backpack. Since freshman year, she had organized her locker into separate binders of textbooks and notebooks for each period so she wouldn't have to waste time at her locker finding the right equipment. She zipped open the side pocket, and shoved the math kit she had used for the previous period back into it's place, when her flash cards - brimming with inky equations, formulas and example questions - spilled onto the floor, scattering a few feet away. She sighed and dropped her bag, kneeling down on the cold tiles in her green dress, her light brown hair falling over her shoulder as she collected the squares off of the floor.

"Let me help you."

Tina looked up to see that Artie had bent over in his chair and was helping her collect the flashcards, his caribou cardigan zipped to the neck.

"Hey," she greeted tentatively, straightening her small stack, "Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, giving her a small smile as he handed her the remainder of her fallen cards, "I see you're hitting the books hard as usual."

Tina stood, putting the flash cards back into her locker and smiling shyly. "And you aren't? I heard you got a scholarship to Northwestern."

Artie smiled. "It's true. I got an early admission."

"Artie, that's amazing," said Tina, closing her locker and slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

"Well, I heard you were going to London next year."

Tina's smile faded. "Did Mike tell you that?"

Artie nodded. "I think you'd make an excellent watcher."

Tina almost grinned. "Thank you. That means a lot, really."

"So, are you going to homecoming?"

"Oh, yeah, I was going to go with the other single ladies of glee club. So… Buffy."

"How would you feel about going with me?"

Tina raised an eyebrow. "I don't know…"

"Just as friends," said Artie, raising his hands, "Come on, it can't still be awkward between us. The deterioration of a ten second crush on sophomore year cannot be blamed for ending a friendship."

Tina smiled. "I guess I thought you never really forgave me for lying about that stupid fake stutter."

Artie just shook his head. "It's senior year. It could be our last chance to have fun, especially since you're going to be halfway around the world next year, sipping tea with Harry Styles."

"I don't feel like One Direction makes a lot of house calls to the Watchers' Academy, but I get your point," Tina smiled, "Still, I'd feel bad for Buffy. She's thinking about not going at all, since Joe Hart hasn't asked her yet. If she knows she's going to be the only one there without a date, she definitely won't go. And she has to go. It's her last homecoming."

"It's your last homecoming, too," Artie pointed out, "Mike has a date."

Tina frowned. "Who?"

Artie looked awkwardly down at his lap and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Artie, come on," Tina pleaded.

Artie sighed reluctantly and said, "Morgan Ru."

Tina felt her jaw drop and quickly clamped her lips shut. "Oh… well, that's… It's none of my business, so-"

"They're not dating," Artie said, looking sheepish, "She's just his date. It probably doesn't mean anything, you know? Their parents probably set them up-"

"I have to get to class, Artie," Tina said quietly, tightening her grip on her backpack, "I'll go to the dance with you."

"You will? Are you sure?" Artie asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Tina shrugged, "It's just homecoming. Buffy will probably end up going with Joe, anyways."

xxx

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Buffy blinked, surprised. They were heavy words to be spoken in a high school hallway. She looked around her at the students passing in oblivious merriment, chattering about the upcoming dance.

"You don't?" she asked, staring up at Joe's sympathetic brown eyes, "When did this happen? Where was I?"

"Buffy, it's just that, before we started going out, you seemed so full of life. A force of nature," he said earnestly, speaking almost whimsically as he thought about it, "Now you just seem distracted all the time-"

"I know, I just…" Buffy sighed, knowing exactly what he meant. She _was _distracted. "I'm getting better. Honest. In fact, from here on, you're going to see a drastic distraction reduction."

Joe shoved his hands into the loose pockets of his battered jeans. "I'm really sorry," he said softly, and walked away.

xxx

"You understand why I couldn't tell you, right?"

Rachel had her arms crossed and her hands tucked under her armpits as she stared into her neat locker.

"Rachel, say something," said Quinn, shaking the girl's shoulder through her polka-dotted sweater.

Rachel blinked. "Oh… sorry," she sighed, "Um, yes, I think I understand. I guess…"

"Are you sure?" asked Quinn, staring at her girlfriend's stern expression.

"Sure," Rachel nodded, "Kurt needed your help."

Quinn gave her girlfriend a long stare. Rachel was still pretending to scan her textbooks, her lips pursed in a tight, disapproving line.

"Are you mad? You seem like you might be mad," Quinn said tentatively.

Rachel pulled her gaze away from her books and locked eyes with Quinn, frowning sardonically, one eyebrow raised. "Yes, Quinn. I'm mad," she said, disarmingly calm.

Quinn opened her mouth and shut it again, taken aback by Rachel's quiet demeanour. "Um… okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't feel that there's much to talk about," she replied, raising her chin in the air.

Quinn sucked in some air. "Okay. I'm getting the cold shoulder. I get it. Can I at least ask what you're mad about, specifically?"

Rachel widened her eyes at the girl and quickly looked around them, glancing over their classmates who were passing by, paying them no mind. "As if I should have to _tell _you."

Quinn blinked. "Because the spell might be dangerous?"

Rachel pursed her lips even tighter. "I trust that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, Quinn."

Quinn chewed the inside of her cheek. "Because I didn't tell you sooner?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Will you just tell me why you're mad?" Quinn exclaimed, "I'm beginning to understand why I tried so hard to like boys."

Rachel tapped her tongue against her top lip and closed her locker door, leaning her hand against it and giving Quinn a cold glare. "You made Kurt drop out of the election."

Quinn widened her eyes in surprise. "I didn't _make _him-"

"You didn't think I could win on my own?"

"Of course not," Quinn frowned, "I just… I thought it would be better to make _sure _you would win-"

"And you thought being myself wasn't good enough?" Rachel asked heatedly, "So you got Kurt to drop out. Printed that propaganda piece in the school newspaper-"

"Hey, you said you _liked _my article!"

"I don't need bribes and blackmail to get what I want, Quinn," Rachel snapped, "I'm not you."

Quinn frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rachel pouted. "Maybe you think you can act like this because of all of the years you've spent being Ms. Popularity, but I have to work to get what I deserve-"

"Oh, please, Rachel," Quinn rolled her eyes.

"You don't think your history of manipulation has given you an unhealthy attitude toward ethics?" Rachel asked skeptically.

"You're saying that I'm manipulative?"

"I'm saying that sometimes you are less than honest about the way you get things done," Rachel folded her arms, "And that's not the way I do things."

"Yeah," Quinn laughed humorlessly, "You've never been less than honest about getting what you want. Sure. And by the way, I never manipulated Kurt into dropping out. He was the one who offered it in the first place. But it's nice to know what you really think of me."

"It doesn't matter, Quinn," Rachel said, exasperated, "I don't take bribes. I work hard and I value honesty-"

Quinn scoffed. "And you _still _didn't win."

Rachel's jaw dropped, her brown eyes widening. Quinn's heated face instantly cooled with regret.

"We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Rachel was still speechless. She closed her mouth, trying to mask her bruised feelings. "Are you sure there's anything left to talk about?"

Quinn turned, about to roll her eyes and walk away, but deciding against it. When it came to her girlfriend or her ego, Rachel always won.

"Yes, there is," Quinn said earnestly, taking Rachel's hand and squeezing it gently.

Rachel still had her lips pursed, but squeezed back. "Fine," she said quietly, "You're going to be late for class."

Quinn sighed and gave the girl and quick peck on the cheek before turning on her heels and heading to Economics. Rachel rested one hand on her hip and opened her locker back up to check the mirror taped to the inside of the door. She wasn't sure why she was giving Quinn such a hard time. Part of her was afraid that if she could barely scrape her way into becoming a co-vice class president, how was she ever going to make it into NYADA?

Another part of her knew the election was just a popularity contest, but that only served to remind her that popular was something she'd never be. She hated that it bothered her so much. Quinn had secretly hated being popular. Buffy looked back on her carefree LA days with embarrassment. But was it so misguided of her to want to be well-liked?

"Why the long face?"

Rachel looked away from the mirror and at Buffy, who had moped toward her to open her own locker and shove some Health notebooks into her backpack. The slayer looked just as tired as Rachel felt.

"Quinn and I might've just had our first fight," she frowned, picking at her pink nails.

Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "First? I find it hard to believe that you two have been an OkCupid commercial this whole summer. I mean, you guys are sort of known for your fluctuating temper."

"This was different. She really hurt my feelings," Rachel sighed, crossing her arms.

"Oh, yeah? While you sang nothing but high praises?"

Rachel frowned. "What are you trying to say?" she asked impatiently.

"If Quinn said something to hurt your feelings, you probably said something to hurt _her _feelings," Buffy said plainly, "You don't have to know her for very long to get the sense that she's a tad defensive."

Rachel closed her locker door and leaned with her back against it. "I might have been a little… impolite."

Buffy smiled sympathetically. "Did she storm off with fire in her eyes? And her hands?"

"No. She kissed me and said we would talk about it later."

"Sounds like the best possible ending to a fight," Buffy shrugged, "At least she didn't dump you outside of Chem lab while the whole school was passing by."

Rachel furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about?"

Buffy sighed. "Joe dumped me."

"No," Rachel gasped, "Why?!"

"He says I've been distracted. Basically, he's just not feeling it," Buffy said bitterly, zipping up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder, "Not the most tragic ending to a relationship I've ever had, but it still stings a little to get dumped by someone you weren't even really dating."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm sorry," Rachel said sympathetically, cocking her head to the side.

Buffy huffed. "It really shouldn't bother me as much as it does. I mean, Joe was cute but he wasn't my one true love. I guess it's just… In LA, I was prom princess. Fiesta queen. I was on the cheerleading squad. I was pretty much the star of the yearbook. And now it's senior year and I'm going to be one crappy picture on one sixteenth of one crappy page."

Rachel bit her bottom lip. "Actually, you're not."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, picture day was at the end of our first week," Rachel said cautiously, "And you were… Well, you were still M.I.A."

Buffy looked crestfallen, staring down at the floor as Morgan Ru skipped over to them in her cheerleading uniform, carrying a small stack of flyers and a basket on the crook of her elbow full of flat lollipops with marzipan Ms on them.

"Vote Morgan," she smiled chipperly, shoving a flyer into Buffy's hand. She grabbed another, about to hand it to Rachel before holding back. "Oh, wait. I don't think I need the Preppy Lesbian Jew Queen vote."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I should warn you that McKinley is on its way to developing a zero tolerance policy for bullying, so I would watch what you say."

Morgan laughed. "Whatever, Berry. Any cool factor you once had went out the door when you lost to a three-year-old for class president. B-t-dubs, I specifically said no melon balls and when I got my 'thank you' Edible Arrangement for my generous pity vote, it was nothing but goddamn orbs of honeydew. So it looks like you can't do anything right."

"Morgan, _shut up_," Buffy rolled her eyes, "No-one cares about your melon phobia or your stupid, pointless campaign."

Morgan scoffed, taken aback. "Actually, they do. And way more than they care about stupid school government. You'll see when the yearbooks come out. Me and my crown will have a full page spread while Jews Clues and Kelly Osbourne will get their article in Lipstick Lesbos Weekly and you will be… well, nowhere. Because while the rest of us were getting our pictures taken, you were, where, exactly?"

Buffy clenched her jaw. "Back off, Morgan."

"Most people say you were running from the cops for murdering that Filipino rando, but some people have been spreading a rumor that your mom sent you to a convent because you were pregnant with Mr. Schuester's baby. I, personally, like to think that you were living it up in Miami with some rich old sugar daddy you met on Christian Mingle and decided to come back to Lima once you'd used up all his money on pills and bad haircuts."

"Shut _up_, Morgan!" Buffy exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few classmates, "How can a person possibly be as obnoxious as you are? You're head cheerleader for a couple years and suddenly you think you're better than the rest of us? Did you forget that your longest relationship was with a gay guy? Or that you used to be Quinn Fabray's little bitch?"

Rachel took a tentative step back, glancing at the passersby who were listening intently to Buffy and Morgan's loud argument, snickering at their exchange.

"Do you really think being homecoming queen will prove that people actually like you?" Buffy almost laughed, "Because it won't. The only thing that it will prove is that you were the biggest bitch with the most access to cheap, second rate, headshot flyers."

Morgan pursed her lips, balling her fists and eyeing her classmates, who had gathered at a distance to listen and giggle to each other. "No," she said, confident, "Being homecoming queen will prove that I was a part of this school and had actual friends. If it was about getting into fights and skipping class, you'd be a shoo-in."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay, you really do not want to test me right now."

"I'm not afraid of you, Buffy Summers. For a while, I thought you might have been a somebody, but that was before you dropped off of the face of the earth and reminded the whole town what little impact you have on our lives. And then you come back in some sort of tepid, prodigal daughter catastrophe. People actually used to think you were cool and mysterious. Now you're just a joke.

The only people who would have your vote are the gleeks and the stoners. I'd like to see you try to win the crown."

"Oh, you would?" asked Buffy, smiling sinisterly, "Then you will."

Morgan scoffed. "What does that mean?"

"I'm gonna show you how it's done. I'm going to run for homecoming queen and I'm going to win."

xxx

Each of Quinn's muddy red candles lit up as she brought a match to them. She had pushed her bed against the wall and dimmed the lights, setting her laptop on her desk with Jesse sitting behind the screen, patiently flicking through his own spellbook as Quinn set up. Kurt sat cross-legged in the middle of the spacious circle of fat pillar candles.

"Quinn, you're making the room smell like burnt rubber," Kurt grimaced as Quinn lit the last candle, her pink hair tied up in a tight bun, "I know for a fact that Rachel has an entire drawer of scented candles in her room. You could have borrowed those."

"These are meditation candles poured by a coven of witches in Scotland during the waxing moon," Quinn frowned, "I ordered them online, special. They have properties that will help you clear your mind better than Bahama Breeze. Besides, I doubt Rachel is in a candle giving mood tonight."

"I knew she wouldn't take it well," Kurt said, half scolding and half sympathetic.

"She wasn't really concerned about the spell," said Quinn, folding her legs under herself as she sat behind him, "She thinks I made you drop out of the race for class president. She thinks I'm… manipulative."

"Did you tell her it was my idea?" asked Kurt.

"Kind of. I don't think it matters. That's what she thinks of me. Dishonest and manipulative and I can't say I blame her. After everything I put her through in freshman and sophomore year, it's still amazing that she even wants to be with me-"

"Can you save the One Tree Hill conversation for another time?" Jesse asked impatiently as he held his spellbook out in front of him on the other side of the computer screen, "I have a callback for an orange juice commercial in the morning, so I need my beauty sleep."

"Where do we start?" asked Kurt.

"You start by relaxing. Tonight, we try tapping into your powers. If we can get you to be as connected with them as possible, you can use them to get specific information. Like how to obtain your mother's soul. Now, lay your head down on Quinn's lap."

Kurt sighed and straightened out his legs, lowering himself to the floor and resting his head on Quinn's folded legs. The girl took a deep breath and rested her hands on Kurt's temples.

"You know, this is possibly the most intimate I've ever been with a girl."

Quinn smiled and looked down at him. "I'll be gentle," she teased, and added, "Shut up now."

"Close your eyes," Jesse ordered in a soothing voice, if not a little muffled by Quinn's laptop speakers, "I want you to imagine yourself in your most basic, most relaxed state. The default place you go to when you can control your dreams."

Quinn sprinkled some almond-scented oil on her fingertips and started to massage Kurt's forehead.

"Tell me what you're thinking," asked Jesse.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "About all the zits I'm going to get from this oil."

Jesse frowned. "Quinn."

Quinn grabbed a small burlap sachet from her small pile of supplies. She opened the ribbon tie and sprinkled some pale purple powder into the palm of her hand. She leaned over Kurt's head and blew the powder onto his face. He twitched at the tickly sensation but quickly relaxed back into her lap, his whole body seeming to deflate, his lips parting lazily. Again, Jesse told him to find his most relaxed state.

"Where are you?" he asked again, eagerly, trying to remain soothing.

Kurt paused a moment and absentmindedly said, "A meadow."

Quinn looked up at the laptop as she continued massaging Kurt's temples, and saw Jesse smiling, proud.

"What does the meadow look like?" he asked.

"There are lilacs. And lavender," said Kurt, "And sun. And butterflies. Like in Twilight."

Jesse wrinkled his nose. "And what does it smell like?"

Kurt paused again. "My mother's perfume."

"You should feel very relaxed here. This is _your _domain. Now, this may be difficult, but I want you to really immerse yourself in this meadow. Kurt's meadow. I want you to leave your physical body to be in the meadow. Can you do that?"

Kurt's eyes flitted open and blinked against the glare of pale sunlight. He turned his head, just slightly, to feel the tickle of grass blades and soft clumps of lavender flowers against his bare neck.

"I think so," he said aloud.

He couldn't smell Quinn's musky candles anymore. The floral aroma was almost overwhelming.

"Good. Lift your head. Keep describing what you see."

Kurt lifted his head. "There are trees, around the meadow. They all have purple flowers."

"Can you see anything beyond the trees?"

Kurt sat all the way up and slowly made his way to his feet. He stood straight and narrowed his eyes beyond the trees. "No," Kurt shook his head, seeing only more trees, "...Wait."

"Yes?"

Kurt squinted even more to see a sliver of white in between the tall oaks. "I see a doorway."

"Describe it."

"It's not a real door. Just… white. There's someone else's dream behind it. Or a vision. Should I go through?"

"No," said Jesse's disembodied voice, "But I want you to keep looking into it. Concentrate on what you most want, right in this moment, and visualize whatever it is coming through the door. Maybe try visualizing a person, who can tell you what you most want to know. Maybe your mother."

Kurt stared steadily at the doorway, trying to imagine his mother walking out of it to tell him exactly what he needed to do. He braced himself as a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Someone's coming," he said, excitedly.

"Who is it?"

Kurt's smile faded as Rachel appeared beyond the bright sliver of white, wearing a red day-dress, her glossy brown hair tied in a bouncy ponytail.

"Rachel?"

"Rachel?" Jesse repeated, as Rachel's bright, smiling figure sprinted through the meadow over to Kurt and threw his hands over him.

Kurt twisted in Rachel's warm embrace. "Rachel? What are you doing here?" asked Kurt.

Rachel put her hands on either side of Kurt's face, smiling kindly. "She's sorry," she smiled.

"Who is? For what?"

"She loves you. She trusts you. She sees how much you've grown and admires you for it, but it scares her," she said tentatively, "Because she's afraid that she hasn't grown at all."

Kurt twisted his face in confusion. "Jesse… what is she talking about?"

"Quinn," Kurt heard Jesse say, "Quinn, take your hands off his head. Quinn?"

"All those things she said to you, she was saying about herself," said Rachel, "She's afraid that she can't get anything she wants without manipulation, and she's afraid that you think so, too."

"Kurt," said Jesse, "You've slipped into Quinn's dream state. I'm going to need you to remove yourself from the situation. Tell Rachel to leave and try to fall back asleep."

Rachel continued to smile up at Kurt, her hands on his face. He grabbed her wrists and tried to push her away, but his body felt slack, like he couldn't control it. The last thing he remembered was leaning down to kiss Rachel and the meadow's perfect sky turning black. He opened his eyes to find himself back in Quinn's bedroom, just as Quinn was batting her own green eyes, looking disoriented.

"What just happened?" he asked, sitting up to see that the lights had turned off and the candles were blown out. Jesse had disappeared and the computer screen boasted 'Connectivity Problems'.

Quinn sat up from where she had slumped against the end of her bed, looking dazed. "I think your psychic empathy might have picked up on something _I _wanted to know."

Kurt pursed his lips. "It didn't work."

"It almost worked. It might work next time. We just… need a bigger power source. If Jesse was here-"

"But he's not," Kurt snapped, frustrated, "Sorry, just… I really wanted this to work."

Quinn sighed. "You have to be patient," she said, standing up and turning the light back on.

Kurt ran his hand through his hair. "I asked Sebastian to help us."

Quinn frowned. "You did?"

"I knew we'd need an extra hand. I mean, I was reluctant," he said, standing, "He seems a little skeevy, but I think it's our best bet. He could make all of this move along faster."

Quinn pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe he could. I just don't know if it's a good idea to have him involved in something so… personal."

"I think we should at least give him a chance."

Quinn nodded quietly. "Or a second one."

xxx

Buffy slammed her fists against the padded gloves that Kitty was wearing. The younger slayer was holding up well against Buffy's calculated jabs. Both were happy to have someone to train with who could actually keep up with them, but as Buffy threw harder and harder punches, Kitty reeled back for a moment, rolling her wrists in exhaustion.

"Damn," she exclaimed, under the orange-ish glow of the lightbulb in the Summers' garage, which they had fitted with blue yoga mats, "Guys should break up with you more often."

Buffy sighed and lowered her fists, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. "Gee. Thanks."

"I mean it," Kitty half-smirked, her lips glossed perfectly pink even in the midst of a rigorous workout, "This is some WorldStarHipHop quality rage you're working up to."

Buffy cracked her knuckles and kicked some of their workout equipment out of the way, heading for the door back into the house. "Just call me Sharkeisha," she muttered as Kitty followed her in.

"My motto is, punch hard and party harder," Kitty smiled as she and Buffy sauntered into the kitchen, "Besides, I already bought two tickets to this homecoming thing. I was planning on getting one of those sexy lacrosse guys from over at Dalton to go with me, but why don't we just go together?"

Buffy opened the fridge, pulling out some Gatorade. "Alright, I'm in. But only if you help me take down Morgan."

Kitty raised an eyebrow as she took a seat at the island counter.

"What?" asked Buffy.

"Nothing. I just didn't peg you for the Bring It On type. Since when were you so into winning crowns? You know you can just buy them at the party store, right?"

Buffy smirked and leaned against the island. "It's not so much the crown as the allegorical sense of victory."

"Ooh, _allegorical_. Someone's been brushing up on their SAT words."

"I just… want to prove to Morgan Ru that I could beat her if I wanted to. That she doesn't get to talk to me like I'm one of her pawns at the bottom of the triangle. No offense."

Kitty frowned. "For what? I am way too hot to be at the bottom of the triangle and Morgan knows it."

"So you'll help me win?"

"Sure, but…" Kitty sighed, "I mean, she's still the captain. I don't want to get kicked off the team for fraternizing with the enemy."

Buffy scoffed. "Well, that's rich. It's so weird for me to want a crown but it's okay for you to want pom-poms."

Kitty shrugged. "I may actually want to go to college someday, and if I do, it's most likely going to be on a cheerleading scholarship. Being a high school hottie doesn't actually pay. I mean, I don't live in a motel for the sweet pillow mints."

Buffy frowned. "I actually wanted to ask you about that. I know you don't like to talk about it-"

"Then don't ask me to."

"-but you don't have to be all on your own. You could stay here."

"No thanks," Kitty said quickly, "I'm not really ready to give up my freedom. Dinner every other night at the Summers' residence is great, but I don't want to be anybody's daughter. Not anymore."

Buffy picked at a fingernail. "You never really did tell me what happened with your parents."

Kitty traced a circle with her finger on the granite countertop. "I know."

xxx

Quinn sat back on a puffy, circular lounge seat at the back of Bitsy's Bridal Wear, flicking through a catalogue.

"I'm thinking about going blonde again," she said aloud, "For the dance. What do you think?"

She glanced cautiously at the gently swaying curtain of the dressing room Rachel was behind, squeezing herself in a poofy chiffon homecoming dress. After Kurt's spell had gone awry, Quinn had done a lot of thinking about what her girlfriend had said during the accidental dream state. The more she thought about it, the more everything made sense to her, especially why Rachel had been so upset that Quinn had taken Kurt's bribe - even if it Sugar still won.

Despite Rachel's overwhelming charisma, Quinn had learned over the past few months that underneath it all, the girl was a ball of insecurities. Even though she was prone to emotional manipulation, she valued ethics more than anyone Quinn knew. That kind of confliction in a personality was bound to cause some anxiety. Even some self-loathing. She's spent so much time trying to convince herself that she was not a disingenuous person at the core and taking that bribe must have only elevated Rachel's paranoia that Quinn had little faith in her.

"That might be a good idea," Rachel replied from behind her dressing room stall, "Depending on which dress you settle on. You don't want you hair to clash."

She pulled the curtain back and stepped out, standing impeccably straight in front of Quinn, who lowered her catalogue. "How is this?" It was a purple beaded ballgown, made of bunched up, shiny material.

Quinn pursed her lips. "It… makes an impression."

Rachel impatiently rolled her eyes. "Just tell me what you think."

"It kind of looks like you could wash it with a damp dishrag."

Rachel stalked back into the dressing room. Quinn closed her catalogue and set it down, biting her bottom lip.

"Rachel?"

"Yes?" Rachel replied, irate as she took off her dress behind the curtain.

"I wanted to… apologize. For what happened with Kurt and the election."

Rachel remained quiet behind the curtain and Quinn took it as a sign that she wanted her to elaborate.

"I need you know that it wasn't because I didn't believe in you. Because I do. I always knew you would make the best class president. And if Sugar didn't have a rich dad, then you would be. I know it. I just… all of the things you want, you want them so _much_. I want you to have them to. And I guess I'm in a habit of taking opportunities when I see them. I always have been. It doesn't mean anything about you. I'm just a little stuck in my ways. But I'm trying to be a better person. To be an honest person. I guess I thought that when we started dating, when I got pink hair and started wearing Nirvana t-shirts, that somehow I wasn't anything like the bitchy little blond cheerleader I used to be. But I'm still her. Not totally - I like to think I've grown up - but she's still part of me. I still have some growing up to do. But more than anything, you're the person who inspires me to do it."

Quinn waited patiently in the pointed silence for Rachel to reply. After a few long seconds, she pulled back the dressing room curtain again.

"How's this?" she asked again, this time smiling blithely, her eyebrows pulled together hopefully.

Quinn batted her lashes at her girlfriend. She was clad in a strapless gown that just barely grazed her shins, the layers of pale pink fabric cascading down her figure, the bodice tightly hugging her form.

Quinn smiled. "You look like a princess," she said softly.

Rachel smiled gratefully and took a seat on the lounge next to her girlfriend, smoothing down the skirt of the gown. "I'm not mad at you. I was just upset because it was starting to feel like I couldn't earn anything without bending the rules or manipulating someone. If I don't deserve to win class president or get the lead in _West Side Story_, then why should I deserve to go to NYADA?"

"But you _do _deserve all of those things. It's just… I don't know, sometimes it doesn't work out. But it's not the end of the world. I know you hate hearing that, but even if you don't have all of those things, it's not the end of Rachel Berry. You're amazing. Truly."

Rachel smiled sweetly. "I love you."

Quinn practically blushed as her girlfriend bent over to kiss her softly on the lips. "I love you, too," Quinn replied as Rachel pulled away.

"Is this a sequel to But I'm A Cheerleader or am I in a Netflix-induced hallucination?"

Both of the girls turned around on the lounge seat to see a tall, thin boy approaching them in a striped polo shirt, grinning widely, one dimple appearing in his left cheek.

"Sebastian," Quinn sighed, the breath nearly knocked out of her. He looked almost completely the same as he had in middle school, only taller.

"Lucy," he smiled almost giddily, glancing at Rachel, "So I've heard this is the Ellen to your Portia."

Rachel frowned. "Who is this?" she asked Quinn.

"Old friend," Quinn muttered, still staring at Sebastian.

"Come on, Lucy Caboosey, you're not going to introduce me?" Sebastian smiled, stretching his hand out, "Sebastian Smythe. I was one of your girlfriend's BFFs in middle school."

Rachel tentatively shook the boy's hand. "Rachel Berry."

"So I've heard," said Sebastian, "I saw you gals in the window. Just wanted to stop by and say hello, since we'll be spending so much time together in the future."

"You will?" asked Rachel.

Quinn raised her chin. "He's helping us with Kurt's… thing."

"He's filled me in on what you guys have done so far," said Sebastian, "I already have some ideas for us to try out. Jesse's initial approach was decent, but a little too slow-moving for me. Anyways, I didn't mean to interrupt your Come To My Window moment. Have fun, ladies."

Sebastian twirled around with his knowing smirk and nearly glided right out of the store, Quinn staring after him with trepidation.

"What was that all about?" asked Rachel, staring intently at Quinn's expression.

Quinn sighed. "Like I said, old friend. I'm getting the impression that he hasn't changed much."

"What happened between you two?"

Quinn looked back at Rachel and picked at the nail of her thumb. "It was back when Jesse and I were friends, the first time. When we were practicing witchcraft together. Figuring out the limitations of our power. Sebastian was just some weasely little kid in elementary school, but he found up what we were up to by eighth grade. His terms were, we let him be apart of our practice sessions or he reveal us. I just didn't want my father to find out because… well, obviously he's not exactly a forgiving man. Anyways, it was fine for a while. We all practised together and we were almost like real friends, but after a while… Jesse got power-hungry. Sebastian got jealous. Both of them were trying to get me to do things that probably would've ended up hurting me. Not that they cared. That's when I transferred schools. Became a cheerleader. Went by Quinn. I was sick of being stepped on. Sick of being in danger. I just wanted to be in control, I guess. Not the tubby little girl that Jesse and Sebastian picked on."

Rachel frowned sympathetically. "Maybe he has changed. I mean, Jesse did. Sort of."

Quinn shook her head. "Jesse wasn't as bad as Sebastian. Jesse wanted me to do bad things but Sebastian wanted me out of the picture. I guess I gave him what he wanted, but he and Jesse stopped talking to each other after middle school, too. I'm not really sure why. They both went to Carmel but then halfway through freshman year, Sebastian transferred to Dalton. That's all I know."

"So why is he helping Kurt?"

Quinn shrugged. "We need all the power we can get and Kurt's getting impatient."

"Sure but… what's in it for him? I mean, if he's as bad as you say… if he hasn't changed…"

"I don't know," Quinn thoughtfully furrowed her brow, "I never thought about it. Part of me wants to think that he's turned a new leaf. That he's not the boy he used to be, but… Maybe you're right. Maybe he is getting something out of it. I guess we'll find out."

xxx

"A campaign is like a war. It's won or lost in the trenches."

Buffy spread three laminated sheets of paper across the grainy picnic table. She had gathered Rachel, Tina, Quinn and Kitty around in the courtyard, preparing them for her victory as homecoming queen with notes, plans and a worth ethic so pedantic that it impressed even her most academic friends.

"Now, these are all the candidates, but Morgan is the real competition," she said certainly.

"Sugar's running!" Rachel gasped, grabbing one of Buffy's sheets.

"Yes, but a senior _always _wins homecoming."

"A senior always wins senior class president, and look how that turned out," Kitty smirked, dabbing a slice of cafeteria pizza with a paper towel.

"You've got a point. But, a homecoming queen can't buy her vote. It's still just a popularity contest. I've done this plenty of times before. Except, this time, I'm not actually popular. Although, I'm not exactly unpopular! A lot of people came to my welcome home party."

"But some of them were killed by zombies," Tina reminded her.

"This is stupid," Quinn piped up, her pink hair in a ponytail, tapping her brown wedges impatiently against a leg of the table.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, her face falling, "I need your help the most. You were homecoming queen two years in a row."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and by the third year, I was a teen mom living in a Being Human situation and still trying really hard not to be a lesbian because I thought that maybe the witchcraft and the adultery weren't quite enough to send me to Hell. I had plenty of time as a social pariah to realize that there is more to life than cheesy plastic crowns."

"Someone had their cynical-o's this morning," Kitty muttered.

"But you must have strategies," Buffy pressed, "Something to give me an edge over Morgan?"

Quinn pursed her lips, annoyed. "Well, my default strategy was to be a pretty white girl, but if that's not enough, you could always try dating the quarterback of the football team, appointing yourself Vice Hypocrite of the celibacy club and, oh yeah, being a huge bitch."

Buffy blinked. "I was thinking more like handing out personalized pencil toppers."

Quinn drummed her fingernails against the table as the others peered at her. "Sorry. All of this homecoming stuff is giving me cotillion flashbacks. I don't think I can help you, Buffy."

Buffy sighed. "You'll help me, Rach. Right?"

Rachel pulled her eyebrows together. "Sure. I mean, if we keep it a friendly competition."

Buffy frowned. "That's the opposite of what this is, Rachel. The whole reason I want to win homecoming queen is so I can rub Morgan's stupid ski-slope nose in it."

"That's the thing, Buffy," Rachel smiled diplomatically, "I'm really working hard on this zero-tolerance bullying initiative and on top of that, convincing Rory to join glee club. It would be hypocritical of me to engage in some sort of Mean Girls scenario with you, while preaching about tolerance and community."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "So what you're saying is, I'm on my own?"

"I'll help you," Tina said eagerly, peeling back to lid of her yogurt.

"You will?" Buffy asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I could make a database. See who's for us, who's on the fence. Find out where our real crisis areas lie. I have a theory that if we gained the loyalty of all of the skaters, burnouts, glee clubbers, theater, band and A/V kids, we could totally usurp the jocks and cheerleaders."

Buffy's eyes practically sparkled at Tina. "I had no idea you cared so much about homecoming."

Tina smirked. "I just really want to see Morgan lose."

Kitty raised an eyebrow. "That has nothing to do with the fact that she's taking Boy Chang to the dance?"

Tina shrugged. "I have my reasons."


	88. The Slayerfest

**Chapter 85**

**The Slayerfest**

"How can she does this? How are they _letting _her do this?"

Buffy was angrily tapping the heel of her boot against the linoleum in the front atrium of McKinley High, staring up at one of Mr. Motta's glossy flatscreens with her hands on her hips. Other students passed by on their lunch hour, unfazed.

"I'm guessing she bribed Sugar," Tina said sourly, narrowing her eyes at the screen with almost the same amount of bitterness as her friend, "Since her dad owns them, they can play whatever they want, as long as it's school related."

"How is _this _school related?!"

The girls stared up at an ad playing on loop on the screen, featuring Morgan posing eagerly in front of a Hawaiian beach, a ski lodge, a park draped in fall foliage, an austere church and a billowing American flag - all appliqued onto green screen. A voiceover was proclaiming that though Morgan appeared to have an 'Oriental spice', she was as wholesome and American as apple pie and morbid obesity. The ad was playing on every screen in the school.

"This is making me sick," Buffy frowned, "Actually, physically ill. When is it going to stop?"

Tina grinned and checked her watch. "Four, three, two…"

On the dot of one o'clock, the ad disappeared and was replaced by a new video. This one was less glossy and professional, playing on a cropped, blurry camera, but the girls had deemed it good enough. It was the audio that was important, anyways. Both girls stood with their arms folded as they watched and waited for their passing classmates to slow down, their eyes drifting to the new video. Though she was a little blurry, it was clearly Morgan, standing with her back stick-straight in front of the rest of her cheerleading squad, pacing back and forth as she sized them up, her regulation Cheerios uniform sleek against her gymnast's figure.

"You think this is hard?" she was asking, sinisterly calm, "You have no idea. It gets a lot harder than throwing a goddamn basket toss. You think being at the bottom of the pyramid is hurting your _poor widdle shoulders_? Try being at the bottom of the food chain! Try being a glee club loser or a chess club freak. Try being one of those pathetic hermaphrodites in the A/V club. You are lucky to be apart of this squad. All those other idiots at this school may as well jump off a bridge. They're nobodies. You have the chance to be somebodies and you're wasting it because you can't be bothered to remember the words to the goddamn pep rally cheer?!"

Students and teachers alike stood slack-jawed, staring at the video playing before them. Buffy just smiled to herself as she watched, when she felt a small tug on her shirt sleeve. She looked over to see Rachel standing beside her, a white knit cap fitted over her brown waves.

"Did you do this?" she asked, incredulous, her eyebrows buckling together.

Buffy smirked, proud. "Yep."

Rachel eyes widened as she turned to look at the slayer. "Buffy…"

"What?" the slayer asked innocently, "Tina helped."

Buffy and Tina had stole away into a computer lab when most of their classmates were busy eating in the cafeteria or cramming for tests in the courtyard. Buffy had the video on a USB and Tina hacked into the school's video streamer that wirelessly connected to the plethora of screens they now had in their school, where bulletin boards used to be. They'd uploaded the video and set a time for it to start playing on loop. They knew they'd only have a certain amount of time before a faculty member got rid of the video, but they'd have just enough time so that the video could be seen by enough students to spread the word. By the end of the day, everyone at school would know about Adolf Ru - a nickname Buffy was set on coining. She remembered how Morgan had told her, in sophomore year, that she could never be as much of a dictator as Quinn Fabray was in her heyday. But, apparently, the power could go to anyone's head.

"Who took the video?" asked Rachel.

Buffy smiled. "Oh, that was all Kitty. She's a stealthy one, that's for sure."

Rachel grimaced. "Isn't she afraid of getting kicked off the team?"

"Oh, please, after everyone hears about _this _video, Morgan won't be in a position to kick anyone off of anything."

Rachel looked displeased, pursing her lips in an anxious frown. "Buffy, this isn't exactly how I wanted the anti-bullying initiative to work."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "We took down a dictator, didn't we?"

"I guess so, but you didn't do it very nicely. You beat a bully by being a bully. That's not setting a good example."

Buffy sighed, frustrated. "Rachel, this is a battlefield. There are no rules."

"What the hell?!"

Rachel, Buffy and Tina all spun their heads around to see Morgan Ru tearing her way through the crowd, her face cherry red, her eyes angrily set on Buffy.

"You did this, didn't you?!" she bellowed, pointing a pink-polished finger at the slayer.

Buffy coolly folded her arms. "Prove it."

"Don't test me, you bitch!"

Buffy just smirked. "Calm down now, Adolf Ru. Don't want to give the crowds any more ammunition," she said, knowingly eyeing the group of students that were now watching, some of them even taking out a phone or an iPod, intent on recording what could turn out to be another big blow-out.

Morgan eyed the crowd, getting even more red in the face until there were frustrated tears brimming in her eyes. She balled her fists and stormed off, squealing angrily, probably already planning revenge. Buffy watched as she left, still smiling to herself, while Tina looked conflicted and Rachel furrowed her brow, worried that her friends' lives were turning into an episode of Degrassi.

"I don't like this, Buffy," she said, "I don't like this at all."

Buffy shrugged. "I think it's pretty fun."

xxx

Rachel pressed her back against the classroom door. "We need to talk."

"I got that, on account of how you pulled me out of the lunch line and brought me here," Blaine said sarcastically, holding a plastic lunch tray that carried a lonely cardboard container of tater tots and a quarter barrel of red fruit juice, "I don't think we're allowed to take these trays out of the cafeteria, by the way."

"That's not important," said Rachel, as the boy perched at the edge of one of the desks, "I take it you've seen that video of Morgan?"

"Yeah," Blaine breathed, a look of awe passing over his face, "It was _Dance Mom_-worthy."

"Well, did you know that Buffy and Tina were the ones who put it up there?" she asked, smoothing down her white skirt.

"No," Blaine widened his eyes, "How did they get that footage?"

"Kitty," Rachel shook her head, "This is bad. I've never seen Buffy so vindictive. And I never would have expected something like this from Tina."

"I'm sure she was just motivated by Mike and Morgan going to homecoming together."

"Of course, but it's still totally wrong. Their moral compasses are completely askew."

"I guess Buffy just really wants to win."

"Well, she's doing it the wrong way. The winner should be the kindest and most deserving candidate."

"Sure, in a perfect world, but that's not really how this kind of thing work. It's purely a popularity contest. Even more so than class president. I guess Buffy thinks that the only way she can ensure she's the most popular candidate is if she sabotages the reputations of her competitors."

"She should know better! She should know that putting other people down is no way to make yourself look better. And we're supposed to be the Bully Whips. Defending our classmates. Not sabotaging them. I promised Rory that glee club was a safe space and everyone in it would look after each other. Buffy is not making herself look like the good guy. We have to get her and Morgan to make up, so they can go back to their natural state of mutual, civil irritation."

Blaine frowned. "What are we supposed to do?" 

Rachel uncrossed her arms and smiled. "I'm glad you asked."

xxx

Just as the sun dipped lower in the skyline, a glossy black stretch-limousine with tinted windows had rolled up to the curb. Buffy, who had donned a sparkly blood-orange gown and strappy sandals, courtesy of a Macy's sale, gingerly strolled down her driveway. Despite all of the general bitchery and stomach-gnawing anxiety leading up to this night, she was genuinely excited. Excited by thoughts of dancing to Top 40 singles and corny '80s love songs, of sipping on spiked punch under paper mache disco balls, and forgetting about every guy who ever rejected her (though thankfully, it hadn't been many) with her fabulous friends. For once, she felt like the old Buffy.

She swung open the very last door on the limo and hopped inside, quickly closing it behind her and spinning around, one blond tendril of hair bouncing against her cheek. Her face fell when she saw the limo was almost empty save for one person - Morgan.

"What the hell-"

"Don't even start with me, Debbie Harry," Morgan scowled.

She was fitted in a pale blue dress that boasted a bunch of bright Swarovski crystals, tied with a red ribbon, possibly to reinforce the all-American vibe for voters.

"_I _thought this limo was courtesy of my date, but I guess he ditched me, too, after your spy-cam stunt, so thanks for that."

"Surprisingly, I don't feel sorry for you. Where is Kitty?"

"Oh, you mean your little double-oh seven traitor?" Morgan asked bitterly, picking up a crisp white note from the seat beside her and handing it to the slayer.

Buffy skimmed the neatly written letter.

_Dear Buffy and Morgan,_

_We won't be riding to the dance with you. We want you to work your problems out together because solidarity is important in a school like ours - more important than who wins homecoming queen. Your friends._

_P.S. The limo was not cheap. Work it out._

Buffy grimaced and crumpled the letter in her hands. "Damn it, Rachel."

She tossed the letter to the ground, where it knocked against two plastic packages - one empty.

"They bought us corsages?" asked Buffy, narrowing her hazel eyes at the printed picture of a plastic flower on one of the boxes.

"I took the orchid," Morgan said plainly, staring at the limo's ceiling as she raised her wrist to show off the graceful white petals.

Buffy pursed her lips and took the remaining corsage - a rose that thankfully matched her dress - and pinned it to one of her straps. "Nice of you to check with me on that," she mumbled.

Morgan just rolled her eyes. "Please, you just want it because I have it."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at the other girl as the limo rolled out of the suburbs. "As if."

"That's why you're doing this whole homecoming thing, too. Because you're jealous of me."

"Gag me with a spoon," was Buffy's only reply.

Morgan shrugged and glanced at her corsage. "It goes with my complexion better, anyways."

"Yeah, it does have that sallow tint," said Buffy, staring at her window even though she couldn't see a thing outside of it. It seemed like they'd been tinted inside and outside, oddly enough.

After a long silence - and a few bitchy glares - between the two girls, the limo came to an abrupt stop.

"Finally, we're here," Buffy exhaled, even though she'd expected it to take longer to reach the high school. She was just glad to be able to get away from Morgan.

They listened to the driver's door open and close, half expecting him to open their doors for them, but he never did. Buffy opened her door and got out, her corsage bouncing stiffly on her dress strap. She furrowed her brows at their surroundings - a wooded area at the end of a narrow dirt road, the pine needles on the trees a sickly blue now that everything was bathed in twilight. Morgan followed her out and balked at their surroundings, and also at the driver's door, which was left open, his post abandoned.

"What is this?" she glared around at the place, "I've had enough of your nerd friends' stupid games."

"Morgan," Buffy said calmly, staring straight ahead, "What's massively wrong with this picture?"

Morgan followed Buffy's gaze and saw the TV. A wide flatscreen set up on a stand at the start of an almost abandoned old hiking trail, with a DVD player set up inside. In the middle of the woods. Both girls walked closer to it and saw a post-it note stuck on the DVD player that said 'Press Play'. The girls glanced at each other, suddenly freezing in the chilly night breeze. A squirrel raced up the side of a tree branch.

Buffy leaned forward and pressed the glowing blue play button, and the screen came to life with a familiar image of an older man with dark hair, pale skin and one eyebrow raised, seeming to pull one corner of his mouth into a knowing smirk.

"Is that who I think it is?" asked Buffy, the breath leaving her lungs.

Morgan's mouth fell open at the sight of him. She'd only seen him once, at the fourth of July fireworks display the Cheerios had thrown that summer to get funding for a new confetti canon. Morgan had sweet-talked Sugar into sweet-talking her father into donating and, lo and behold, they had their new canon thanks to Papi Warbucks. She now understood why she'd only seen him at night.

"That's Al Motta," Morgan said with certainty, a chill settling through her veins.

Buffy grimaced at the image of the man on screen, sitting at a stately desk with fountain pens resting in a square pen-cup. She didn't need the ornate silver mirror behind him to make her realize what he was.

"Is he a-?"

"Vampire," Buffy finished Morgan's sentence, staring steadfast at the screen, "For sure."

"Hello, ladies," Mr. Motta smiled sleezily, making their skin shiver, "Welcome to Slayerfest 13. Now, my old man always said that in life, there are the hunters and the hunted. Which category do you think you broads fall into? Looks like you have about thirty seconds starting… now, to run for your lives. Buffy. Kitty. It's been nice knowing ya."

The screen turned black and Buffy immediately whipped her head around, scanning through the ever-increasing darkness to make out a threat while Morgan continued staring at the screen, her mouth wide open.

"What? No- this isn't-... This is a mistake," she stammered, her eyes wild, "I'm not Kitty! I'm not a slayer! I'm a homecoming quee-"

Bullets shattered through the TV screen, leaving a gaping whole of glass and plastic, causing Morgan to scream at the top of her lungs. Buffy jumped back and acted fast, grabbing Morgan by the wrist and dragging her down the hiking trail, where they dodged rogue branches and overgrown patches of weeds, immersing themselves deeper into the dark woods. After a while, Buffy narrowed her eyes through the darkness but didn't feel like she was following a trail so much as wandering around. Buffy tugged at Morgan's arm and led her off the path they'd been trying to follow.

"I have an idea," Morgan said breathlessly as Buffy pulled her along between trees, "We find Sugar's vampire dad, explain to him that I'm not the slayer, and he let's me go - look out!"

Buffy's foot tapped against one spiky tooth of a bear trap and before the metal jaws could clamp down on her, she darted out of the way. She and Morgan tumbled to the forest floor and watched the sharp maw of the trap slam against itself, rustling the dried leaves in its midst. Buffy lifted her head just in time to see a man stand from behind a wall of leaves and branches, raising a rifle in his hand as he peered through the scope.

"Down!" Buffy ordered, grabbing Morgan again and making her roll over, out of the man's line of sight. It was a man hunt and the slayer suspected there would be more hunters where he came from.

She grabbed the nearest, largest rock she could find and tossed it like a frisbee, hitting the man square in the forehead, knocking the rifle from his hands. He fell back, his foot landing right in the center of another bear trap. Buffy ran forward toward the man, who had yelled out in pain at the metal mouth closing around his foot. Morgan trailed after Buffy as the slayer picked up the man's abandoned rifle and aimed it right at him. She had no intention of shooting him - she just wanted him to talk.

"That's gotta smart," she smirked, raising an eyebrow at his wounded foot, "Now, I can let you out of it or I can put a bullet in your head. How many are there in this little game and what are they packing?"

Buffy cocked the gun and was secretly delighted by the sound it made - like a special effect in an action movie. She especially liked the way it made this trapped hunter's Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Me," the hunter began with little resistance, still wincing from the pain, "Two Germans with AR-15s and a grenade launcher, yellow-skinned demon with long knives, vampire couple from Texas named Gorch."

Buffy made a mental inventory; two Germans, yellow demon, couple of vamps.

"That everybody?" she asked impatiently, still pointing the rifle at the guy's face as Morgan breathed raggedly behind her.

"Everybody who's out here," he replied, "Germans are wired. Their boss is tracking them on a computer. Get me out of this!"

"Wait!" Morgan exclaimed, "First, do me a favor and tell your friends that I'm not a slay-"

Morgan screamed as two curved throwing knives flew through the air and landed deep into a tree, dangerously close to her head. Buffy didn't have time to ask the hunter anything more about the others, the Slayerfest or Sugar Motta's vampire father. She grabbed the gun and the girl and ran.

xxx

Shelby sipped lemonade under brightly colored decorative balls fashioned out of paper mache. The DJ - a junior with an iPod - was playing a Cyndi Lauper song. Something slow for McKinley's senior couples to cuddle to on the open space of the gymnasium, but not so current that they could start grinding and get kicked out. A smile crept onto her face as she spotted Quinn and Rachel holding each other in the middle of the all the couples, one girl in a pale pink dress, the other pale blue, both equally pastel and so wholesome even the most conservative of teachers couldn't have punished them for melting into each other.

Shelby heart ached for so many reasons. How similar she was to Quinn. How different she was from Rachel. How even these two - whose lives she had woven herself through and often feared she'd overcomplicated or intruded on - even they were happier than she had been at their age. She was such an angry teenager. So guarded and yet so naive. She wished she could have let herself be more open to the young, fresh, perfect, heart-wrenching love that teenagers were supposed to have. She wished she hadn't made herself grow up so quickly.

"Having fun?"

Shelby blinked the stars out of her eyes and looked over at Puck. She was temporarily speechless. He'd shaved his mohawk and was wearing a black, pressed tuxedo, smiling dapperly down at her. Sometimes she forgot how tall he was, especially when she saw him next to Finn. But then he was right beside her, towering over her, and she was speechless all over again.

"Um, yes, actually," she said, quickly regaining her composure as _Time After Time _faded away and _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ started booming through the speakers, followed by an overzealous cheer from every girl (and some boys) in attendance, "How are you? I heard your chances of winning homecoming king were pretty good."

"Yeah, I guess so," Puck shrugged, "I didn't campaign or anything. Seemed pretty lame."

Shelby shrugged, smiling. "I think it's fun. You only have high school to do things like this. You might regret not embracing the experience."

Puck frowned down at her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she blinked, "Just… I didn't go to homecoming when I was in high school. I kind of wish I had. Everything you feel when you're this young is so intense. It's difficult to get that back."

Puck had an odd look on his face as he stared at the counselor, as if he were trying to tap into her mind. "You don't seem like the kind of chick who wastes her time wondering, 'what if?'" he said.

Shelby opened and closed her mouth, surprised. "I'm not. It was just a thought. Beth will be a young woman someday, probably at this school, and I want to teach her not to run from her childhood. There's plenty of time to be an adult."

Puck followed the woman's dreamy gaze out at the dancing crowd. "Guess you're right," he said, clutching a plastic cup of punch, "I had to grow up pretty fast, too, when my old man left. I had to take care of my sister."

Shelby nodded. "I didn't have any siblings to take care of. After my mom died, I just took care of myself."

"Bet that's harder than it sounds."

Shelby smiled up at him. "Yeah. It was," she said, and laughed, "I couldn't get out of this town fast enough. I never imagined I would move back here."

Puck stood with her, smiling to himself. He was happy just to stand with her and listen to what she had to say. She was the only person he'd ever met who was always so real with him.

She smiled slyly. "Where's your date?"

"I don't have one. I said it'd be just me and my bros, but what do you know, they ditched me to go talk to some girls."

The overhead lights faded to a dreamlike blue and the dance music faded away until Alphaville was crooning about being forever young.

"Do you want to dance?" asked Puck, setting his cup down on a long refreshment table and extending the palm of his hand out for Shelby to take.

She looked back out at the dance floor full of teenagers clinging to each other in their formalwear, desperate for closeness, listening to the song but not really hearing it. It frightened her how much she identified with them. She felt like a teenager playing house, with her rented apartment and the daughter she could barely take care of on her own.

"No, thank you," she sighed, just loud enough for Puck to hear her, "It… wouldn't be appropriate. I'm actually going to leave now. Excuse me."

She hurriedly left Puck's side and made her way through the crowd, leaving the boy staring after her at the other side of the gym, wondering if he should've just shut up and listened to her talk. Maybe then he could've gotten closer to her, pierced through her hard candy shell. But no, he'd been too forward, wanted to put his arms around her too badly. He knew he was acting like a lovestruck freshman. Rookie mistake.

"Hey, man," Mike greeted him as he made his way through two sets of dancing couples, "You okay? You look a little sick."

Puck grimaced. "I'm gettin' out of here."

"You're not gonna stay to see if you won homecoming king?" 

Puck just gave Mike a glare. "I don't give a rat's ass about some stupid high school competition. I'm out."

Puck stalked away, shoving a scrawnier classmate out of the way so he could leave through the fire exit. Mike quirked an eyebrow at his volatile friend before turning back and scanning the gym. He wasn't even sure why he had come at all. He'd decided against going with Morgan at the last minute. He was only going to come as her date because she had asked so sweetly and he didn't see a reason why not, but after that video of her leaked all over school, he could think of a million reasons.

His eyes settled at the small circular tables set up nearer to the seats, where a few lonely classmates were sitting, waiting for the agonizing slow dancing to be over. He spotted the one face he wanted to see most: Tina's. She looked beautiful in a black dress with a short, poofy skirt, red lace poking out from under it. Before he knew what he was doing, he had weaved his way through the dance floor and was walking toward her table, where she was sitting alone, looking miserable.

"Did your friends ditch you to go save the world?" he had asked, a smile on his face, before she realized he had approached her.

She looked up, her eyes widening a little. "Uh, no. They just… They're dancing."

Mike pulled out a chair and sat next to her, looking out at the crowd, spotting Kurt and Blaine twirling together, Quinn and Rachel embracing, Kitty practically mauling whatever senior she had weaseled into buying her a ticket.

"It was supposed to be a ladies' night kind of thing," Tina hastily explained, "That's why I didn't bring a date."

"Is that the only reason?"

Tina hesitated. "Yes."

Mike nodded with a frown on his face. "Well, my friends are M.I.A, too. Puck bailed. Sam and Mercedes are bullying the DJ into playing some R. Kelly. And I'm pretty sure Finn is making out with Celeste in a janitor's closet somewhere."

"Celeste?"

"Neckbrace Cheerio," he said, and Tina nodded, "They went on a few more dates, I guess. I give it a month."

Tina shrugged. "It's nice that he's with somebody new."

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, do you want to dance?"

Tina looked anxiously at her schoolmates. "I don't know…"

"Come on, just one dance," Mike leaned forward, smiling charmingly at her, "You know I'm in my zone when I'm dancing."

Tina smirked, before shaking her head, her eyebrows buckling with worry. "I'm trying really hard to get over you."

Mike frowned. "Well, don't try so hard."

She blinked at him. "Mike, I don't want us to get back together."

"Would it be so bad?"

"Are you forgetting why we broke up?" she asked him, her mouth a stern straight line, "I know what I'm doing with my life after graduation. Watchers' Academy and then working here, on the Hellmouth, saving people, learning about the unknown. That is my life. That's what I want. And you know what you want. Early admission to Harvard. Law school. Then a high paying job, an equally ambitious wife, a couple of overachieving children and a McMansion. Our lives don't fit together, Mike."

Mike interlocked his fingers and frowned, staring at the paper tablecloth. "Maybe I'm not as sure as I thought I was."

Tina sighed, exasperated. "Well, I am, Mike. I know what I want. If you don't, that's fine, but don't risk breaking my heart all over again because you're lonely and you're wondering what could've been."

Mike ran his fingers over his forehead. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it?" 

He sighed. "I don't know, Tina, it's just… You were the person I went to about all my problems, and now… I don't know who I'm supposed to turn to."

Tina frowned sympathetically. "You can still talk to me. As my friend. I just can't go and be your girlfriend again and spend all my time wondering if you're going to leave me because of my life choices."

Mike nodded. "I get that. I really do."

Tina pursed her lips and gave him a poignant look for a few long seconds. "Are you okay? What's going on that you need to talk about?"

Mike tapped his foot against the polished court floor. "It's my dad. He's been acting strange lately."

**a/n: Now that the school year is coming to a close, I hope to update on a more regular basis, at least for this summer until I start university :) Thanks for reading!**


	89. The Dance

**Chapter 86**

**The Dance**

Further into the woods, two girls in sparkling gowns spotted a log cabin. With the rifle in Buffy's hands, she led Morgan through the foliage toward the small building, abandoned and decrepit, just like the hiking trail they'd veered off of. The girls ran inside of the one-room cabin, barely furnished with ratty plaid curtains hanging off of the windows and a waiter-stained mattress. Buffy quickly dragged a chair up against the knob of the front door, but she doubted there was much in this cabin to hold back her hunters; except for herself and her new weapon - not that she knew how to work it.

She glanced at Morgan. "We should be safe for a while," she said, circling the place to close the flimsy curtains, "You need to find a weapon."

Morgan whimpered, looking like she was getting smaller and smaller in the middle of the room. "I'm gonna die," she sobbed.

"Yeah, you are, if you just stand there," Buffy grumbled, closing the last curtain, though it still let the moonlight shine in like a spotlight on their hiding place.

"Oh, God," Morgan cried, "I'm never gonna be crowned homecoming queen. Or graduate high school. Or go to Penn and date cute college guys."

Morgan weeped hysterically as Buffy peered out of the windows, still holding her rifle upwards, resting on her shoulder.

"Yes, you are. We're getting out of here and we're going back to Mr. Schuester's office, where he and the rest of the weapons live. I'm going to take these guys out and make it back to the dance right in time for you to congratulate me on my victory as homecoming queen."

Morgan glared at the blonde and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, the petals of her corsage tickling her cheek. "Over my dead body."

She raised her purse - a skinny cylindrical clutch - that had been dangling from the crook of her elbow, and rifled through it, producing one sleek Samsung cellphone. Buffy widened her eyes at it.

"You had your phone with you and you didn't think it would be helpful until just now?" she grimaced.

"It doesn't matter," Morgan frowned at the dull glow of the screen, "No reception out here. I only have one bar."

Buffy's stomach sank. "Well, maybe one is enough," she said hopefully, and grabbed the phone from Morgan, "I'm guessing you don't have any of my friends numbers in your contacts."

Morgan wrinkled her nose. "Ew, no."

Buffy frowned and dialed the only number she knew by heart. She swore at the ground when she got his voicemail. "Mr. Schuester? It's Buffy. Me and Morgan are stuck in a cabin in the woods. It's like a bad horror movie… We're in big trouble-"

Buffy took the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen.

"What's wrong?" Morgan asked eagerly.

Buffy frowned. "Lost connection," she sighed, and handed back the phone, "We gotta get out of here."

"Do you think he got the message?" asked Morgan, as Buffy turned to peer outside the window again, keeping watch.

"I hope so," she mumbled, wondering how safe it was to just wait around while monsters prowled outside.

"Why is it that wherever you go, violence and terror follows?" Morgan asked bitterly, shoving her phone back into her clutch.

"You're asking me?" Buffy scoffed.

"Your life is so messed up and I'm not going to let you drag me down with you, okay? My life would've been just fine if you weren't around to screw everything up."

Buffy scowled at the girl. "There's the door. You're welcome to leave and walk back into your perfect, Wonder Bread life."

Morgan plopped down on the mattress and glared at Buffy. "All I wanted was homecoming queen."

"That's all I wanted too, Morgan," Buffy grimaced, "I spent everything I saved all summer on this dumb dress."

"Why do you even care about homecoming? Girls who spend their evenings toting assault rifles around, looking for monsters to kill, generally don't concern themselves with high school festivities."

"Because this isn't all I have going for me. I'm not just Buffy, the vampire slayer. I used to care about this girly stuff."

"But that was before-"

"Before it was my job to save the world. I just wanted one night to feel like I was the old me. I wanted the most important thing in my life to be a dance and a plastic crown, because it's simple. It's uncomplicated. Simple, uncomplicated girls don't get stuck in the middle of the woods, fighting for their lives."

Morgan frowned at the floor and shook her head. "That makes no sense."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"You're right, I don't. You want to know why I want that crown so badly? Why I want my team to get the national championship? Why I want my face plastered all over the yearbook? Because that's all I have. I'm not a super genius, or Broadway-bound," she sighed, waving her hand through the air like she was trailing a shooting star, "I'm going to be one of those suburban moms in Juicy tracksuits, obsessed with looking just as good as they did in high school because at least back then, they could still trick themselves into believing they had potential. That crown and that trophy and that yearbook will be the only proof that I was a somebody. What do you need it for? You've already stopped the apocalypse twice before you even got your learner's permit."

Buffy smirked. Leave it to Morgan to accidentally make the slayer feel better about herself in an attempt to garner some sympathy. The blonde shrugged at the rhetorical question and cocked her gun.

"I look cute in a tiara."

Morgan snapped her head in the direction of the window at the sound of some rustling leaves outside. "Do you hear-"

One of the windows shattered to pieces as a figure barrelled through, tearing the curtains off their rods. Morgan screamed and Buffy ducked out of the way as a yellow-skinned demon landed in the room, wielding curved blades in his thorny hands. Buffy aimed her gun and pulled the trigger, but ended up shooting an empty wine bottle that had been left on the dusty table.

She tossed the gun aside and jumped up, grabbing a hold onto the ceiling fan and sending a swift kick to the demon's face. He fell back, the knives falling out of his hands. Morgan scrambled to pick up the blades while the demon jumped back and got toe-to-toe with the slayer, ready to pounce, when something landed at their feet. It was a metal something that looked like a squat tarpoon, ticking loudly. Buffy and the demon glanced at each other before running in opposite directions.

The slayer grabbed Morgan and the two of them sailed out of the already broken window. The demon jumped against another one to break the glass, but to his dismay, it was boarded up. With the demon still inside and the girls running away, trying to find the old hiking trail, the metal device exploded, blowing up the whole cabin in a fiery embrace. The girls were pushed down to the ground from the force of the explosion, and though both were unharmed, they lifted their heads to find themselves covered in soot, their hair a tangled mess of leaves and small, hot splinters of wood.

Buffy winced as she lifted herself off of the ground. "We have to get back to McKinley."

xxx

"They're heading west. Back into town."

Al Motta looked up from where he sat, slouched back in his office chair, his feet up on his mahogany desk. The German hacker, a senior citizen with all of the coolest gadgets, was sitting across from him holding a hand-held tracking device, narrowing his gray eyes at the pulsing green dots on the screen. Al smirked as he tore his eyes away from a local newspaper.

"They got away?" he asked, impressed.

"Temporarily," said the hacker with comfortable certainty.

Al nodded. "Well, give it up for the slayers. These broads got character."

His eyes darted to the office door when he heard the doorbell sound loudly throughout the house. He quirked an eyebrow and listened intently for the sound of the maid's heels click-clacking on the polished tiles of the foyer. He heard muffled voices and knew that as the maid's clicking heels got louder, she was coming to fetch him. He stood up and met her at the door.

"Mr. Motta," she said timidly, clasping her soft, wrinkled hands together, "There are police officers asking for you."

Al frowned. "Thanks, Consuela. How 'bout you go make me a scotch on the rocks while I take care of 'em?"

xxx

Buffy and Morgan walked in brisk unison down one of McKinley's main hallways - the fastest route to Mr. Schuester's office. They could hear the faint thumping of music coming from the gym but didn't stop to see how homecoming was going.

"Rambo and Spongebob are down and out," Buffy said, partly to herself, as they walked side-by-side, "If we take out the Germans and the vampires, we can still make homecoming."

"What are they hunting us down for, anyways? What did we ever do to them?" asked Morgan.

"Hello? Slayers have a tendency to ruin a lot of evil creepy-crawly fun," said Buffy, as they finally reached her watcher's office, "We just need to find Mr. Sch-"

The office door swung open and a vampire woman in purple zebra-print leather pants and a lace pink shirt fringed with feathers grabbed Buffy's wrist and pulled her into the small office, tossing the slayer aside and giving her a roundhouse kick to the chest. Morgan jumped back, landing against a file cabinet, and noticed Mr. Schuester lying on the office floor, unconscious. Mrs. Vamp grabbed Buffy's head and slammed her into a bookshelf while her other half stood on the sidelines behind the desk and watched, a ten-gallon hat on his head and his fangs bared in a sinister smile. While the slayer was down, she kicked at the vampire's legs and made her fall to the floor.

"Buffy!" Morgan called after she scrounged up a stake from one of Mr. Schuester file cabinets and tossed it to the slayer.

Buffy hopped up and caught the stake, quickly jabbing at the vampire before she threw a trashcan down on Buffy's head. Buffy fell to the floor in a heap and the vampire looked pleased with herself, until she looked down and noticed the stake sticking out of her chest.

"Candy!" cried Mr. Vamp, as his wife turned to dust, "Oh, Candy. I'm gonna kill both you slayers for this! You hear me?!"

Morgan frowned, glancing at Buffy, rousing on the ground, and back at the vampire. "I'd think twice about that if I were you."

"Excuse me, little missy?!" the vamp demanded, scrunching his already wrinkled demon's face in anger.

"Buffy and I have already taken out a bunch of cronies, not to mention your girlfriend-"

"Wife!"

"Whatever. The point is, Buffy's just a runner-up. I'm the queen. You saw what she can do. What do you think _I'm _gonna do when you get me mad?" she asked, taking a step closer to the vamp.

He trained his eyes on the ceiling like he was mulling it over, then quickly sidestepped away from Morgan and ran out of the office. Morgan exhaled, smiling widely, in disbelief that he bought her bluff, just as Buffy raised herself from the ground.

"Well, that'll teach him to mistake you for a slayer," she smirked, and looked down at her watcher, who was coming to on the floor, "Will, you okay?"

Will blinked as Buffy leaned down to help him up, pulling him toward her by the shoulders. He clutched his head as he stood and balanced himself. "I'm fine. Vampires-"

"We got rid of 'em," said Buffy, "For now. We still have two snipers on our hands, but by now we have them outnumbered."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Will sighed, wincing from the ache in his head, "I feel like this is partly my fault. I gave Rachel the okay to switch the limo plans. I didn't know there would be some sort of slayer hunt."

"That's not even weirdest part," Morgan frowned.

Buffy widened her eyes. "That's right, I forgot! The person who set up the whole thing was Sugar Motta's father. Will, Sugar's dad is a vampire."

"That can't be right."

"Think about it. Have you ever seen him around in the daytime?"

Will frowned and shook his head. "What is a vampire doing with a wife and daughter?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know, but I smell serious trouble."

"As if anything could get any worse than this night," Morgan scowled.

Buffy smirked. "Don't pretend you don't feel a little badass."

Morgan pursed her lips and then smiled. "Maybe a little. Plus, we got these free corsages."

"Yes, free accessories. There's always a silver lining."

Will smirked and raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember Rachel mentioning corsages."

Buffy narrowed her eyes down at the rose on her dress strap. "Rambo said the Germans were hooked into a computer system…"

Buffy met her watcher's eyes and they both shared a knowing look. Buffy grabbed the flower off of her dress and ruffled through the petals to find a small black device, no bigger than the nail on her pinky finger.

"They're hooked into us."

"They'll be coming any second!" Morgan cried, "What do we do?!"

Buffy bit her bottom lip in concentration as she stared down at the miniscule tracking device. "We need to get some wet toilet paper."

xxx

The cops, who looked like two blue-collar rookies, had shoved a black bag over Mr. Motta's head and threw him into the back of their squad car. Al knew immediately that they were too strong for humans, but there were already whispers in the neighborhood that the Mottas came from a mob family and he didn't want to give them anymore ammunition by causing a scene in front of his house. He used his sense of direction to determine that the car and the silent drivers were heading to the northernmost part of Lima, where they kept their good salons, their high-class office buildings and their news studio. Far away from the downtown police department. His suspicions were right; these pigs weren't human. They weren't even pigs.

They eventually parked and dragged Al out of the car, dragging him into an air-conditioned building. Though it was late, there were still cellphones ringing and heels click-clacking against tiled floors. The strangest part, Al thought as he strained his ears, is that no-one seemed to be reacting to the man being pushed around with a bag over his head. He had a bad feeling about this. They brought him to the top floor and finally, as they entered a quiet room, pulled the bag off of his head.

Al's eyes immediately adjusted to the light and he took in the vanity table with it's high-wattage light-bulbs lining the mirror, the velvet lounge pushed to the edge of the room and the autographed picture of Casey Kasem. Al wrinkled his nose. It was a dressing room. Before he could wonder whose it was, the door opened and closed behind him and he turned around to see a familiar looking guy wearing a sleek, dark gray suit and a red tie, his hair a wave of dark blond. He looked like a politician.

"Do I know you?" Al asked, puffing out his chest.

The guy just smiled at Al, flashing a wide row of TV-white teeth. "Well, everyone knows me!" he said chipperly, "I'm quite the egg around Lima."

Al frowned. "Yeah, well, I'm new in town. Where am I?"

"You're in the studio for WOHN-TV," he exclaimed, displaying his palms around the dressing room, like it was obvious, "I'm Rod Remington, co-anchor for News 8.

"Right," Al smirked, "I thought I recognized you. You're on TV every night with that foxy Andrea Carmichael broad."

"Ab-so-lutely," Rod said proudly, "And I know who you are, too. You're Al Motta. Please, sit down."

Rod gestured to his velvet lounge and as he took a seat on the edge of it, Al hesitantly joined him.

"Well, isn't that an exciting suit," Rod smiled at Al's electric blue pinstripes.

Al shrugged. "Clothes make the man," he smirked, taking a toothpick out of his breast pocket and sticking it under a fang.

"As I understand, you're not a man," Rod said with a knowing smirk.

Al frowned. "And what are you trying to say, exactly?"

"Oh, no need to be hostile, Mr. Motta. I've been reporting the news in Lima for quite some time now. The people here trust me to tell them the truth. The catch is, if I tell them something they don't want to hear... let's just say small town folk have a habit of shooting the messenger."

Al rolled his eyes. "If this is the point where you tell me I don't fit into this little slice of nowhere you got here, you can skip it. I own property, I have a kid in school, I pay my taxes. I'm a hardworking individual. It's just that my work is a little unconventional, see."

Rod just smiled. "It's great to hear that you have a child. A girl?"

Al hesitated, quirking an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"Beautiful. I believe that children are the future."

"Do you now?"

"I sure do. Children are the foundation of our community. And they rely on us for guidance. Control. That said, I believe the rebellious elements need to be… taken care of."

Al flashed a toothy grin. "I got a few rebellious elements being taken care of this very night."

"So I've heard. That's quite an idea you have there. Slayerfest. It's the bee's knees! Catchy name, too. Just the kind of creativity I need on my team."

"Oh, yeah? And what if I don't want to be apart of no team?"

Rod smiled again, his lips stretched to their limit, like a shark. "I don't think that'll be a problem. I have a feeling you and I are going to be great pals."

xxx

Fairy lights sparkled in the gym and Rachel clutched her plastic cup of punch, pulling her eyebrows together at the gigantic scoreboard mounted high on the farthest wall, displaying the time.

"They're going to announce queen any minute now," she pouted, "What's keeping them?"

Quinn shrugged, her eyes trailing around all of her friends who sat at the same table, patiently waiting as the nominees gathered onstage. This was not at all how she imagined her senior homecoming dance would play out and she had to smile to herself because of it. It was an occasion she'd been anticipating since freshman year, when she assumed she would be class president, head cheerleader and the frontrunner for the coveted crown.

There was a display case at the end of the hall at her parent's house that boasted her family's shiniest accomplishments. Her father's plaques and medals from high school and college sports and her sister's badges and trophies that boasted victories in her many attempts to be the ultimate overachiever. Her favorite pieces in the case were always her mother's many tiaras. Homecoming queen. Prom princess. Belle of the Winter Ball. Quinn had envied each perfectly polished plastic jewel and envisioned the day when she'd shove her family's achievements out of the way to make room for her own crowns and blunt-ended scepters.

"Quinn? Where are you?" Rachel asked, a smile on her face as she peered at her girlfriend.

Quinn snapped out of her faraway reminiscence. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"About how everything ended up. How this is our last year and it's the end of an era and… I'm just really happy about the people I get to spend it with."

Around the table, her fellow scoobies and glee clubbers gave her a sarcastic 'awww'.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, smiling and giggling as her friends heckled and Blaine threw a balled-up cocktail napkin at her.

Tina smiled brightly, more genuinely than she had all night. She'd seemed distant and solemn, slipping away from dancing and conversation to be alone, noticeably without Artie, her rumored date. Quinn had wanted to ask her about it earlier, but then she'd been whisked away by Rachel, who was screaming about how this was her _favorite _Rihanna song and they _had _to dance.

Quinn noticed Tina's smile quickly dropping as she shifted her gaze to over her shoulder. She spun around in her seat to see Buffy and Morgan making their way toward their table, their dresses ripped, their bodies covered in dirt, sweat and soot. Their hair fell out of its clips and ties and small, dried bits of leaves were stuck to the back of their heads. The scoobies gaped at them as they neared, both panting heavily, their eyes wide.

"What did you two do to each other?!" Rachel exclaimed.

Kurt knitted his brow. "Oh, no, is this the danger? Was my vision right?"

"It was right," Buffy nodded, "I just wish it had been a tad more specific."

"What happened?" asked Tina.

"We were _hunted_," Morgan said dramatically, "It was like a Liam Neeson movie if Liam Neeson were two homecoming queen nominees."

"I take that to mean you took care of it, with the help of your certain set of skills?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"It was insane!" Morgan waved her hand in a flourish, "There were bear traps. Torpedos. A cabin in the woods _exploded_. I struck fear into the heart of a vampire and then we found out they put tracking devices in our corsages, so Buffy rolled them up in wet toilet paper and threw them at the snipers so they ended up shooting each other."

"That _would _make an amazing Liam Neeson movie," nodded Quinn.

"Wait, but who was hunting you?!" asked Rachel.

"Shhh!" Buffy demanded, waving a shushing hand at Rachel as Principal Figgins took to the stage with two red envelopes in his hand.

"It's time for the moment we've all been waiting for," he announced as the crowd quietened down, "All votes have been cast and it's time to announce your homecoming royalty for the class of 2014. Without further adieu, this year's homecoming king is…"

People giddily waited as Figgins pulled open the first envelope and smiled.

"Noah Puckerman!"

The crowd cheered and a few girl wolf-whistled, but after a few long moments as Figgins peered out into the crowd, it was apparent that Puck wasn't coming up to accept his crown.

"Well, it looks as if Mr. Puckerman has stepped out," he said, clearing his throat, "Moving on, I will now announce this year's homecoming queen."

Almost every girl in attendance held their breath as Figgins opened the second envelope.

"I am excited to announce this year's homecoming queen is…"


	90. The Queen

**Chapter 87**

**The Queen**

"I am excited to announce this year's homecoming queen is…"

Buffy and Morgan glanced at each other, biting their bottom lips in equal giddiness as the rest of the gymnasium waited with baited breath for Principal Figgins to finish his sentence.

"...Quinn Fabray!"

The girls' faces fell as they, and everyone at the homecoming dance, snapped their heads toward the small table draped in a blue paper where Quinn was sitting. Her eyes were trained on the stage in front of her, incredulous. Rachel smiled proudly, knowingly, and the others widened their eyes and looked at their blonde friend, caught between cheering for her and being completely flummoxed. A spotlight found Quinn at the table and the band started playing a song called 'Homecoming Queen' that sounded a little melancholy for the occasion.

Quinn glanced at Buffy, her eyebrows knitted together, and stood from the table after Rachel's prodding. She made her way through the crowd to tepid applause and reached the stage, where Figgins and his secretary placed a tiara over her blonde updo, fitted a sash that said 'Homecoming Queen '13' over her dress and gave her a plastic scepter to hold. Quinn stared at it in her hand for a moment before looking out at the crowd and giving them a coy smile, which garnered just a little more enthusiasm for her classmates. She met Rachel on the dance floor for the queen's first dance and the rest of the partygoers joined in, some slow dancing and some hopping around to the song's pop rock beat.

"I don't get it," Quinn shook her head.

"What?" Rachel asked, one arm around Quinn's waist, one hand on her shoulder.

Quinn furrowed her brow down at her girlfriend. "Did you do this?"

Rachel smirked. "One of the perks of being co-class vice president is counting the votes for homecoming."

Quinn widened her green eyes. "Rachel! You rigged it? You could get in trouble."

Rachel shrugged. "I've been so preoccupied with the small stuff lately. I'm trying to learn how to see the big picture."

"You know, I didn't need a tiara to make me happy."

"I know. But it's your senior year. I wanted you to have a keepsake."

Quinn smiled warmly down at Rachel, before leaning into her and kissing her pouty bottom lip. She pulled back and said, "I love you."

Rachel's eyes sparkled when she opened them. "I love you, too. Hey, you're coming to New York with me, right?"

Quinn blinked. "Huh?"

"For my interview at NYADA," Rachel smiled, "It's coming soon. Blaine is going with Kurt."

"Oh," Quinn breathed, "Yeah, of course."

Rachel smirked hopefully. "And you can check out NYU. See what the city has in store for you."

"Sure," Quinn nodded and rested her chin on Rachel's shoulder, leaning down into her as the song turned into something sweeter.

xxx

Buffy's red heels made echoes in Santana's suburban luxury condo. She could hear soft thuds coming from the southernmost part of the empty home. The thudding paused when she walked down the hall, but resumed again, and when she'd reached the last room, Santana was inside of it, furiously hitting a punching bag suspended from the lowest point in the ceiling. Buffy hovered near the door, clutching her purse. Santana knew she was there but was taking her sweet time acknowledging it. Buffy cleared her throat and Santana's arms finally dropped down to her sides. She glanced at the slayer, one dark eyebrow raising, in a red sports bra and black yoga pants.

"So, I'm guessing 'Fight Club' was your homecoming theme," she said.

Buffy smirked. The quip didn't carry much of Santana's old fervor - there was a tinge of weariness in everything she said now - but at least she was making jokes.

"I got into a little trouble before the dance. Same old, same old," Buffy shrugged, "Sorry I've been a little M.I.A. lately."

Santana shrugged and took a seat on the couch that was awkwardly placed in the middle of the large, open space. "You're not obligated to come around, you know."

Buffy frowned. "I've just been preoccupied. I've been… running for homecoming queen."

Santana almost smiled. "Did you win?"

"No. Quinn did."

"Surprise, surprise."

"It was, actually. She's a lot different since you last saw her."

Santana frowned down at her lap. Buffy considered walking toward her, sitting down, putting a hand on her shoulder. But she didn't do any of that.

"I don't really care, though," Buffy shrugged, her stomach in knots, "I don't even know why I was running. I think I just wanted to go back to who I used to be before slaying and moving to Lima and… you."

Santana wrinkled her nose and looked up at the slayer.

"No offense," Buffy sighed, "Just, it's already been so hard, coming back to school after everything that happened this year. And now that you're back… I'm glad you're back. I am. But it's hard. I can't tell anyone else because I don't know how they'd react and I don't know where we're supposed to go from here and I guess I just wanted one night where I could be clean and shiny and, well, look how that turned out-"

"Oh, spare me," Santana rolled her eyes.

Buffy stared at her for a moment with her mouth open. "Excuse me?"

Santana stood from the couch and put her hand to her hips, staring at the thick curtains stapled tightly to the windows. "I get that it's been hard for you and I'm glad that you're dating boys and caring about high school and doing whatever you have to do to go back to being Malibu Barbie, including sweeping me under the rug, if that's what you have to do, but I don't need to hear about it."

Buffy balked. "Santana, I didn't mean to-"

"Flatter yourself?" she asked, looking at the slayer, "It might surprise you, but I don't sit around wondering, 'Gee, why hasn't Buffy come around lately?' or, 'I wonder if Buffy has been coping with the fact that _I _just came back from _Hell _after becoming _evil _and _killing _people.' I killed Ms. Pillsbury and I killed Brittany's dad and I tortured Tina, but no, I hope _you're _doing everything you can to go back to normal."

Buffy gaped at the vampire, who was glaring heatedly back at her. She was about to apologize again before Santana's brow buckled, her lip quivered, and she burst into tears. Buffy almost dropped her clutch, so surprised that the vampire was crying. Santana put a hand over her crumpled face as she continued to sob. Buffy tossed her purse on the couch and walked forward, putting her arm over the vampire and pulling into a hug, trying desperately to hold her together.

xxx

"Let go. Imagine your world and be in control of it. Imagine the smells. The colors. Imagine what you're wearing. Relax. This is where you belong. You can navigate through the corners of your mind to find exactly what you need. Don't be afraid. Be calm. Be in control."

"I'm bored."

"Shut up. Be calm. Be relaxed. Feel the breath leave your body, in and out. Be at peace."

"This is insanely boring."

"Be quiet."

"I'm going to blow my brains out, right now. I'm going to go into Mr. Hummel Figurine's bedroom, find his sawed-off shotgun, and blow my brains out of my skull."

"Sebastian, shut up!"

Kurt snapped his eyes open. His head had been rested on Quinn's lap, which he felt tense and twitch every time she snapped at Sebastian. He lifted himself up off of where he'd been lying on his bedroom floor and let his eyes adjust to the dim flicker of candles.

"This isn't working," he grumbled.

"Thank you!" Sebastian smirked, "I told her she was going about this all wrong."

"This isn't working because of _you_," Quinn glared at the boy, "If you'd just shut up and let me work-"

"So you can do what? Get him to astral project over to his mommy so he can ask her the secrets of the universe? Good luck with that."

Kurt rolled his eyes and stood up, padding over to his light-switch beside the bedroom door and illuminating the room. "It's both of you."

"What?" Quinn wrinkled her nose.

"It's gonna be a problem if you guys can't get along long enough for us to spend one hour together," Kurt grumbled.

"No, I'll tell you the problem," Sebastian smirked and took a seat at Kurt's desk, spinning around in the swivel chair so that he was facing the both of them, "It's all about your method. It's very slow-and-steady-wins-the-race. Only, that's just a story we tell children so that they don't go chasing waterfalls, half-cocked. If we want to do this, let's do this."

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed, still sitting cross-legged on the carpet. "What are you suggesting?"

Sebastian smiled wider. "My youngest aunt got married last year, to an anthropologist. They had a destination wedding, with my grandfather's money. India. It was Hell getting over there, but otherwise, it was great. And, as a plus, I finally had a chance to troll the markets of a different culture. You can get a whole lot more over there and the supply is a lot better, let me tell you that."

"Supply of what?" asked Kurt.

Sebastian leaned back in the desk chair and smiled smugly, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. He removed his hand, producing a thin metal chain wrapped around his forefinger. At the end of the chain was an ornate, steel triangle with runes cut out of it to show its hollow insides.

"You can't get something like this in any old Ohio magic shop," Sebastian smiled.

"What is it?" Quinn asked, curling her upper lip, using apprehension to mask jealousy.

"Psyche's talisman," Sebastian replied, and then shrugged, "That's what they call it, anyways. There's a Made In Bangalore label at the bottom so whether or not it was actually used by a Greek goddess is debateable. Doesn't mean it doesn't work."

"What does it _do_?" asked Kurt.

"It acts as a Vessel. Something that can trap loose magical energy. Like souls."

Kurt and Quinn leaned in to get a good look at the triangular talisman, very interested.

"How does it work?" asked Kurt.

"Well, like any other vessel."

"Explain," Quinn said glibly.

"Vessels are living things that can possess magical energy. Like us. Quinn and I use magic. You're harboring your dead mom's soul. One and the same, basically. The theory is that vessels are like sponges. When we use our magical energy, it floats out of us, but with nowhere else to go, it soaks right back in."

"But if I use my powers around the talisman, it'll trap the magic," Kurt said, finishing Sebastian's theory.

"And since the magic is Elizabeth's soul, we have a way to trap it and put it back together," said Quinn.

"Bingo," Sebastian smirked.

Quinn sat upright and quirked her eyebrow at the trinket. "So your idea is to get Kurt to use his powers while wearing the talisman as a necklace and trap his mother's soul in it?"

"Are you still soaking in the brilliance of my plan?"

"Then what?"

"'Then what' what?"

"Then what do we do after we trap Elizabeth's soul? Like, what about the other part of her soul? The part that's missing."

Sebastian frowned. "Well, I don't know. I figured we were taking this step-by-step. We get the powers out of Kurt, then find the rest of her soul, then figure out a way to send her off to the great auto shop in the sky."

"But how do you get the energy back out of the talisman?" asked Quinn.

"What?"

"Well, Kurt will use his powers and the talisman will absorb the soul, but the talisman is an inanimate object that can't utilize the soul, so how do you get it back out?"

Kurt's gaze darted between the two Wiccans. It was a valid question that he never would have thought about asking.

"I… I'm sure we can find a way," Sebastian smirked.

"Maybe we should find a way before we experiment our new shiny toys on Kurt."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea," said Kurt, beginning to look uneasy.

Sebastian pursed his lips and gave Quinn a disdainful glare, before turning to Kurt. "Look, we can do this as slow-and-steady as you want, little tortoise, but let me tell you from experience that this is not the way to win the race. You want to help your mom, you've to dive right in."

xxx

"'And on that tragic day, an era came to its inevitable end.' That's it. Are you ready?"

Buffy leaned over a picnic table in McKinley courtyard, her freshly sharpened pencil poised over a practise exam. "Hit me," she said, determinedly staring at Tina, who sat across the way from her.

"Which of the following best expresses the theme of the passage? A, violence breeds violence. B, all things must end. C,-" Tina recited from a thick booklet.

"B!" Buffy exclaimed, filling out a little circle in her Scantron sheet, the dull sun shining on her silver nail polish, "We haven't had a B in forever."

Tina set the booklet down on the picnic table and sighed. "Buffy, you have to read each answer carefully. This is the SATs. You have to do a lot better than you did in the practise tests last year if you want to get into college."

"No pressure," Buffy frowned down at her sheet of paper, "I don't even see why I need to go to college."

"Buffy!" Tina gasped, "Don't say that! Education is one of the most important things in the world."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "It's not like I'm ever going to be a lawyer or a doctor or something worth doing, you know? I'm going to be in Lima for the rest of my probably short life, slaying."

"And that's not worth doing?"

Buffy pouted. "It's going to be just me," she said dejectedly, tossing her pencil on the table, "You're moving to England. Everyone else is going to New York. Mike is Harvard-bound."

"Finn and Puck are going to OSU-Lima!" Tina pointed out, enthused.

"Oh, yeah. Me, Finn and Puck, the three amigos," Buffy said sarcastically, "You know, I don't think Puck has ever actually gotten my name right in the three years I've known him."

"Well, this can be your chance to get to know them better. And to make new friends! Besides, you know I'll always keep in touch. I've always wanted to send old-fashioned, hand-written letters, I just never had anyone to send them to. And you're cracked if you don't think Rachel is going to keep us constantly updated on her road to stardom with Facebook posts and emails and pictures. Everything's going to be so totally the same."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at her friend.

Tina shrugged. "Okay. It's going to be completely different. But different doesn't mean bad. We're going to miss each other like crazy, but you can't throw away a rite of passage like this just because it's new and scary. Besides, you're not the _only _slayer anymore."

Buffy's shoulders lifted and she breathed in deep. "You're right. I can make this work. I can be slayer girl and college girl. I'm so sick of missing these big moments, like homecoming. I made such a huge deal out of it and missed almost the entire thing."

Tina shrugged. "You didn't miss a lot."

"Oh, no? You didn't have fun with Artie?"

Tina squirmed in her seat. "Actually, I didn't end up going to the dance with Artie."

Buffy frowned. "What? Why not?"

Tina blushed. "This is so stupid. I just… I was getting ready that night, before the dance, and I kept imagining Mike dancing with Morgan, and being the homecoming king to her queen, and… God, if I had seen him kiss her, I would have died."

Buffy frowned sympathetically. "You're still really into him, huh?"

Tina shrugged. "I'm trying not to be. But imagining him with someone else hurts so much more than I ever could have expected. And then I kept picturing _me_, showing up to the dance with Artie. How would that have looked? Like some desperate attempt to make Mike jealous by showing up with my sophomore crush. The last thing I wanted to see was a look of pity on Mike's face. That would have been the worst."

Buffy knitted her brow. "So, to prove you didn't care about Mike, you ditched your plans with Artie, because of how it would look to Mike."

"I told you it was stupid!" Tina whined, "God, Buffy, I'm so done. I just want to be over him now. I thought I was so close, too, but then he came and talked to me at the dance."

"What did he say?"

"He was talking about getting back together."

Buffy bugged her eyes out. "And you said no?"

"Buffy, I don't want to deal with all of this all over again when he leaves for Harvard and I leave for London. I can't do it again."

Buffy nodded. "You're right. How did he take it?"

"He was understanding. He always is. But he needs a friend. He's having problems with his dad."

"Isn't he always?"

"It sounds different now. He says his dad is acting really secretive. Mike thinks he might be having an affair."

Buffy wrung her hands together. "Poor Mike. Does this mean you guys are really friends now?"

"I guess so," Tina shrugged, "I mean, he really needs someone to confide in and just because we're broken up doesn't mean we don't care about each other."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, "I know what you mean."

Buffy mind floated back to Santana and her outburst of tears the other night, just as Rachel came ambling along to their table with a heavy cardboard box in her arms.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, ladies," she said as she let the box thud down on the table.

"What's in the box?" asked Tina.

"Candy," Rachel replied gingerly, smoothing down her sweet pink cardigan.

"Ooh, candy for us?" Buffy asked, reaching for the unmarked box.

"No," Rachel said, quickly slapping her hand down on the box, only to open it up one-handed and produce a thin, generic candy bar wrapped up in red paper, "We're selling chocolate, for theater club. This way, we can pay for supplies for sets and props without dipping into the glee club fund."

"Where did you get all of it?" asked Tina.

"It was a charitable donation from a non-profit organization," Rachel smiled, "They send out these candy bars to public schools all over the midwest in support of the arts. However much we make selling this chocolate, they double it!"

"Where do they get the money?" Tina raised her eyebrow skeptically.

"What am I, chairman of the board?" Rachel snorted, "I don't know how they do it but my dad's a lawyer so if they back out on their agreement, we can sue."

"So everyone in the play has to sell these candy bars?" Buffy asked, wrinkling her nose.

She liked the idea of the theater club and the glee club getting as much funding as possible, but between SAT prep, slaying and Santana, she just didn't have the energy for girl scouting.

"Well, not everyone," Rachel shrugged, "As you know, mine and Kurt's informal interviews at NYADA are this Friday. The two of us, plus Quinn and Blaine, are taking a Greyhound up to New York on Thursday night so we can get a hotel and have the whole big city experience. I've sold a good amount of bars to my dads already, but I'm leaving it up to you two to lead the glee club in selling the rest while we're in New York."

Buffy grimaced. "Why can't we just sell them when you guys get back?"

"The deadline is Saturday."

"Saturday?!"

"It's short notice, I know, but I believe in you guys," Rachel smiled sweetly, "Besides, we stand to get a lot of funding out of this. So don't screw it up."

xxx

Puck strode through the halls in his jeans and white t-shirt, broad shoulders knocking into passing classmates. He reached for the mostly glass door of Shelby's office and despite his hardened frown, his heart picked up just a little when he saw her dark hair falling over one side of her face as she signed the bottom of a piece of paper in her loopy handwriting. He opened the door and knocked half-heartedly at the frame, making Shelby snap her head up in his direction. Her eyes warmed for a second before she remembered she had an appointment with him.

"Puck. Have a seat," she said calmly, shuffling her paperwork out of the way.

Puck took a seat opposite Shelby and leaned back, spread-legged, glancing at the wall.

"You want to tell me why you're in here?" asked Shelby, clasping her hands together on the desk.

Puck shrugged. "Figgins said I had to."

"Mm-hm. And why did he say that?"

Puck sighed. "Because I got caught spray-painting the side of the gym."

Shelby looked tired. "Usually when a kid gets caught vandalizing the school, they get detention. Maybe have to paint over it on the weekend. But Figgins sent you to talk to me because the both of us agreed that this behavior wasn't just against the rules, but a reason for concern."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I spray-paint stuff when I'm bored. It's not new."

"Exactly. This is old behavior. Behavior you would have exhibited when you were a sophomore or even a junior. Not now, after you've been doing so well. Getting a scholarship. Winning homecoming king."

Puck rolled his eyes again.

Shelby sighed. "Puck, what's going on? Why are you acting out?"

Puck kicked out his leg. "I'm just _bored_. I'm tired of high school and then college is going to another four years down the drain."

"What do you mean 'down the drain'?" asked Shelby.

"I just want to get out on my own. Get my own place and a full-time job. Be the kind of man my dad could never be. I'm sick of feeling like a kid. So I win a dumb plastic crown, _who cares_?"

"Puck, these are important moments in your life. You're never going to get to be a teenager again."

"_Good_. Being a teenager sucks. Everyone expects you to act like an adult but they treat you like a child. I'm sick of being treated like a kid."

Shelby smirked wearily. "There's nothing that says 'teenager' more than wishing you were an adult. Puck, have you considered the fact that vandalizing your high school isn't something an adult would do?"

Puck frowned sourly. "Yeah, I know," he sighed, defeated.

"If you really want to be a better man than your father was, you'll stick this year out. Get your diploma. Go to college and experience the kinds of things you'll wish you'd appreciated when you're my age."

Puck just stared sternly back at her. "Yeah. Okay."

Shelby leaned forward, sympathetic. "I know it feels like a lifetime before you're going to get to be the person you want to be, but you'll never be that person if you don't spend this time laying down your foundation."

"So I've heard."

"I'm serious. I want Beth to have a strong father figure in her life and I want that to be you."

Puck perked up at this, the image of his daughter's cherub face appearing in his mind. "Yeah, you're right. Look, I'm sorry about all this. You won't see me back here for the rest of the year, okay?"

"Oh, you know I don't mind your company," she smiled, "Just don't get into anymore trouble."

xxx

Will drew a red circle around a B- and scribbled 'good work' underneath. He'd spent the better part of yesterday evening doing research on Al Motta, coming up short for a criminal record, phone number or even an address. All he had were newspaper articles chronicling Mr. Motta's charitable donations and philanthropic activities. Only now, at lunch, had he decided to hole up in his office and grade quizzes for freshman Spanish that were due later that day.

He shoveled a mouthful of tuna salad sandwich into his mouth as he went onto grading the next quiz. Someone opened his office door. He'd been expecting Buffy but when he looked up, Terri was smiling over at him in her school nurse uniform, crisp white skirt ending just above her knees.

"Terri," he said, surprised, quickly swallowing his mouthful of bread and tuna and sitting back in his chair, resting his red pen down on the slowly dwindling stack of papers, "Can I help you?"

"I was just going to lunch and I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me," Terri said hopefully, smiling as wide as ever.

Will ran his tongue over his wisdom teeth, taken aback by the offer. The two of them had been kinder, friendlier to each other after their tragic summers, but they'd never spent time together outside of school. Not since the divorce, and not voluntarily.

"Thanks, Terri, but I'm way behind on grading papers. I'm just going to eat here."

Terri pouted. "Will, when was the last time you ate a real meal?"

Will hesitated to answer.

"I know what you get like when you're unhappy," Terri frowned, "You don't eat right. You bury yourself in work. Come on, come to lunch with me and eat some real food. My treat."

Will raised an eyebrow and glanced at the miniature photo frame sitting on his desk, of Emma in the botanical gardens, her red hair gathered by the breeze, looking as beautiful as the day they met and the day she died.

"No, thank you, Terri. It's a really nice offer but… I'm busy. And you don't have to worry about me, or take care of me, really. It's not your responsibility anymore."

"I know," she replied, a little crestfallen, "I just can't help but be concerned sometimes."

"And I appreciate it," said Will, smiling crookedly, "How about a rain check?"

Terri smiled and nodded. "Sure," she said, turning a little to leave the room when she bumped into Buffy, who was walking in with a cardboard box under her arm.

"Oh, sorry," the slayer said flatly, looking Terri up and down before glancing at Will, "Am I interrupting something?"

"No. I was just leaving," said Terri.

"You want a candy bar?"

"Huh?" Terri wrinkled her nose.

"A candy bar. We're selling them to raise money for the school play. They're only a buck."

"Oh, sure," Terri shrugged and removed a dollar from the large pocket in the front of her uniform, "Chocolate makes me break out in zits but I can spring to support the arts."

"Thanks," Buffy mumbled, exchanging a candy bar for the dollar and glancing at Terri as she trotted away, "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Will said quickly as Buffy dumped the box on the edge of his desk, "She was just inviting me to lunch."

"Terri the Terrible was inviting you to lunch?" the slayer asked, skeptical, "Did you guys forget about the time she almost got me killed?" 

Will pursed his lips. "No, but she's actually been very supportive after everything that happened before the summer."

Buffy looked sheepishly at the floor. "Right. So, what are you working on?"

"Grading papers."

"Did you get anywhere with Sugar's dad?"

"No," Will sighed, "It's like there's no paper trail or legal trace of Al Motta. That's not unusual for a vampire, but his very human wife and daughter make the situation pretty bizarre."

"What do we do about Sugar?" asked Buffy, "I mean, do we grill her about her dad or pretend like nothing's wrong?"

"I don't know right now," Will sighed, "Al Motta has to know you're still alive by now, but so far he hasn't done much else to make sure you don't reveal him. He doesn't seem to be worried."

"Which means we should be worried."

"We should definitely be on guard. Right now, go about your business. Study. Patrol. Basically lay low until we can decide on our next move."

"Alright," Buffy sighed, and glanced at her box of candy bars, "Hey, you want to buy some chocolate?"

Will smirked. "Isn't that kind of redundant?"

"Oh, come on, Rachel's going to expect me to commit harakiri if I don't sell them all."

"So go door to door like the other kids in glee club."

"Will," Buffy whined, "Let's be honest. I'm not like other kids in glee club. I don't exactly have the time or the energy to make a visit to every house in my neighborhood and you don't _want _me to get a big fat zero on my SATs, do you?"

Will rolled his eyes and took out his wallet.


	91. The City That Never Sleeps

**a/n: After plotting out how the rest of this season and the start of next season is going to go, I'm very curious to know what your predictions are. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**Chapter 88**

**The City That Never Sleeps**

"I just don't trust him. Sebastian Smythe has only ever looked out for number one and this is just another one of his schemes."

Kurt squirmed in the back of a cab, in the narrow middle seat, which he'd been cajoled into taking even though was taller than the two who squished him on either side: Quinn and Blaine. Meanwhile, Rachel sat upfront with the cab driver, quietly looking out of the window with a thin smile spread on her lips.

"I thought we agreed to give him a chance," Kurt huffed.

"We did. Turns out, he's as uncooperative as I remember, and controlling, too."

"Maybe if you tried harder to get along with him-"

"Shhh!" Rachel ordered suddenly, spreading her hands against the car door window and staring wide-eyed out at the scene in front of them.

Quinn glanced at her girlfriend and then peered out of her own window. She had to admit, it was impressive. Rows of taxis and town cars were packed on the wide street and looking down at them were great, shining lights of billboards and screens lit up on the sides of building, advertizing 'Phantom of the Opera' and 'Jersey Boys'. It was Broadway. And despite the fact that Rachel visited nearly every summer to see a new show with her fathers, she looked as dazzled as Carrie Bradshaw in Paris. Kurt struggled over Blaine's lap to get a good, starry-eyed look at the iconic landmark.

Quinn smiled at her friends piled into the taxi and then back at the giant, towering billboards. She had balked at Rachel's excitement the whole bus-ride there as she played her iPod's New York playlist over and over for them - 'New York State of Mind', 'Empire State of Mind', 'Bright Lights Bigger City' - and the cabbie had seemed irritated that the small brunette had ordered that he take them this way, since they could have reached their hotel through a much shorter route. But it was worth it. This was Broadway. This was New York. For a fleeting moment, Quinn could appreciate what all the fuss was about.

xxx

"Buffy, what would I do with forty candy bars?"

Buffy thoughtfully leaned over her Chinese take-out, chopsticks expertly poised over a morsel of General Tso's chicken. "You could hand them out at the gallery!" she said brightly, swallowing a mouthful of rice, "'Buy something pre-Columbian, get a free cavity.'"

Joyce rolled her eyes and chewed her soy-soaked broccoli. "Twenty."

"You're a good mom," Buffy smiled, quickly picking up her box of candy bars and dumping half of them onto the island counter, where they ate.

Since there were ten smaller boxes of chocolate in the one big box Rachel had ordered the glee club to sell before she left for her interview in New York. All of the glee clubbers, plus Kitty, took one box to sell, and Tina good-naturedly took two.

"I'm the best," Joyce shrugged.

Buffy took a sip of water. "Mm, I'm pretty sure the _best _moms let their daughter's drive."

Joyce shrugged. "And yet."

"Oh, come on."

"Buffy, let's not have this conversation again."

"Mom, I took the class. I watched the gory after-school specials. I'm totally prepped."

Joyce rolled her eyes and stood to pour herself more water from a pitcher in the fridge. "You failed the written test," she reminded Buffy, "They wouldn't even let you take the road test."

"That was a year ago. And I don't test well."

"I wouldn't say that two days before the SATs," Joyce teased, and sighed, "Look, I spend enough time not knowing where you are. I don't want to have to entertain the possibility that you're tailing it to Miami with a couple of hitchhikers."

Buffy flinched. "Mom, please. I'm not taking off again. And if I really wanted to, I could get a bus."

Joyce grimaced. "Don't joke like that. Just… let it go, Buffy. I said no."

Buffy pursed her lips and pushed her dinner away. "Fine," she sighed, resigned, "I gotta go."

"You're going out?"

"Going for a slay-study double feature with Will."

"Again? Don't you think Mr. Schuester is asking a lot from you? He seems to be monopolizing a lot of your time, if you ask me."

Buffy sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, he's never expressed an interest in hitchhiking to Miami."

xxx

Shelby rushed from her seat on the living room couch as an incessant knocking came thudding from the front door. She peered through the peephole to see Puck standing in the hall with a small, cardboard box tucked under his arm. She wrinkled her nose and looked down at what she was wearing - tube socks, yoga pants and an oversized college sweatshirt. She almost didn't want to answer the door before mentally scolding herself for caring about how she looked to a teenage boy.

She unlocked the latch and opened the door. "Puck. I didn't know you were coming over."

"I wasn't. I mean, I never said I was. I just… I was in the neighborhood and since I'm in glee club, I have to sell these stupid candy bars and I thought you…" Puck trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Shelby glanced at the box under his arm. "You wanted to sell me candy?" 

Puck shrugged. "Yeah, whatever, you don't have to buy it. Is Beth around?"

The boy stepped into the apartment and Shelby stumbled back to let him through. He walked through the living room, peering around for his daughter, as Shelby shut the door, forgetting to lock it as she hastily followed him in.

"She's already asleep, actually," said Shelby, trailing after him.

Puck looked back at her, only a little disappointed. "Oh. Well, listen, while I'm here… I wanted to apologize."

"You did?" Shelby asked, taken aback.

"When I spray-painted the gym after homecoming, I wasn't really thinking. I didn't think about how far I've come, in school and with Beth. I feel like I've become a better person and most of it is thanks to her and to you, for bringing her back. I feel like so much has changed and the rest of the world hasn't caught up yet. Like, the universe still thinks I'm a teenage boy, even though I feel like a man. So, I think I did it because I was frustrated. Like, 'if it's a teenager you want, it's a teenager you'll get'. You know?"

Shelby smiled warmly. "I think I know what you mean. But, Puck, you don't have to be so eager to grow up. Enjoy being young while you can. I wish I had."

Puck sighed. "Why? I mean, what was so great about living in Lima as a teenager?" 

Shelby nodded. "You know, you're right. It wasn't great. I was an angry kid and I didn't get much attention from my family. I went looking for love and acceptance in the wrong places and spent most of my time so badly wanting to be in complete control of my life. But that's the thing, Puck. When you're in complete control, there's no-one but yourself to blame when something goes wrong."

Puck wrinkled his brow. He couldn't really understand what she meant but he knew there was an ocean of depth behind her brown eyes and he wanted to swim in it.

"Would you go back if you could?" he asked, surprisingly serious as he stared at her, ready to drink in her reply.

Shelby smirked a little and thought about it. "Would I want to be a teenager all over again? No, maybe not. But I think I'd be better off if I hadn't forced myself to grow up so fast."

"What do you mean?"

Shelby sighed. "Dating older guys. Moving to New York as soon as I turned eighteen. I was a waitress, a bartender, a maid and even a nanny before I finally went back to school. Took some classes and started teaching. By then, I realized if I had just held onto my innocence a little longer…"

Puck smiled wryly as she drifted off. "I think it might be a little too late for my innocence."

Shelby smiled. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Puck stared at her for a moment, before blinking and sighing. "I should go. I'll see you at school on Monday, I guess."

Shelby frowned. "Wait… Would you mind helping me with some paperwork? If you don't have any plans."

Puck looked behind him, at the messy stacks of paper that littered the living room coffee table. "Yeah, totally. What do you need?"

Shelby took a seat on the couch and Puck sat next to her. "Well, the papers with the green tabs go into _this _pile, and the yellow tabs go over here. Um, the red tabs go in the trash, and the blue ones… just write down this serial number here and then I can toss them. Got it?"

"Got it," Puck said, and quickly started to working, taking a strange comfort in the repetition.

Shelby smiled at him as he quickly fell into a rhythm of concentration. "Ms. Pillsbury seemed to have a pretty airtight system, but I haven't figured it out as of yet," she said softly, tossing a few red-tabbed pages into a wastepaper basket.

"She was pretty into organizing," said Puck, "Around this time of year she used to give a class for seniors on note-taking. And you could always go to her if you needed a highlighter or a binder."

"The students really loved her."

"Well, I think they mostly felt bad for her. She was this bug-eyed ginger lady and before she started dating Mr. Schue, there was this rumor that she had, like, eighteen cats and named them all after characters from Sweet Valley High," Puck rattled off, before looking up at Shelby, "Is that a totally not cool way to talk about a dead lady?"

Shelby shrugged. "You didn't start the rumor, did you?"

"Nah, I'm not really into the gossip mill. Now, name-calling, that's my expertise. There isn't a single name I haven't carefully chosen for a freshman nerd that hasn't stuck with him for the rest of his four years at McKinley. Not that I'm into that anymore. Plus, Rachel has us doing this Bully Whips thing. She's really…"

"Ambitious?"

"Pushy. But she's kind of cool. She does her own thing. You should be proud of her."

Shelby blushed. "Her fathers should be proud of her. They raised her into a very impressive young woman. I don't get to take credit for that."

Puck looked back at her, imploring. "Is that one of the things you meant when you said you grew up too fast? Having Rachel?"

Shelby sighed, lying an absentminded hand on a crisp sheet of paper.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that," Puck said quickly.

"No, it's a fair question. I was eighteen years old when I had Rachel and it was definitely an experience that kept me from thinking of myself as a child ever again. I lied to her fathers about how old I was. I just really needed the money and when I heard about them looking for a surrogate, I thought it was the perfect opportunity. They advise against being the surrogate _and _the egg donor, afraid you'll get too attached, I guess. But I didn't think it would be a problem. I signed the contract and that was that."

"What contract?"

"The one that permits me from being in contact with Rachel until she's eighteen. Obviously that didn't work out, but it kept me away for a while."

Puck opened his mouth, wondering if he was out of line as soon as the question left his mouth. "Did you miss her?"

Shelby thought about it for so long that Puck almost thought she was going to ignore him. "She was born a little earlier than we expected. Her dads didn't make it to the delivery room in time to see her being born. The doctor let me hold her, for a while, before they showed up. The nurses didn't know the situation, so they left me alone, to bond with her," Shelby sighed, staring down at the coffee table, "She was so perfect. Pink little toes. Gentle little breaths. For a moment - less than a moment, probably - I thought about taking her with me."

Puck widened his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Picking her up. Leaving against doctors orders. Packing and skipping town with my money and my baby," Shelby sighed, before shaking her head, "But that would have been a disaster. I wouldn't have been able to give her the life she deserved."

Puck nodded slowly. The Berrys were good people, he knew that. But he couldn't help thinking of teenage Shelby in a thin hospital gown, marvelling at her newborn daughter's round toes. He could picture it perfectly, because it was the same thing Quinn had done when Beth had just been born. She had leaned over the baby's cot in the hospital's nursery and marvelled at the tiny pink fingers and toes, carefully counting each of them while Puck watched anxiously by the door, afraid that Beth would break if he touched her. All he had to add was dark hair, dark eyes and an air of wisdom to the scene to make it Shelby's.

"Sorry," Shelby shook her head, her cheeks getting warm, "I don't know why I'm making you listen to all of this."

"No, I asked. I'm interested. Besides, you can trust me," he said, putting a hand on her knee.

She scrunched her face like she was going to cry. "Yeah, I can," she sighed, and looked back at him, both sets of dark eyes parallel and searching.

Hopeful and terrified, he squeezed her knee harder and leaned in, breathing in her smoky scent just before his lips landed on hers, awkwardly pressing into her before he could get his bearings and slide his tongue daringly against hers. Shelby shivered when he did and by some grace of God, she kissed him back, breathing in deeply through her nose. He felt his body warm as she slid her hand against his chest and then tightly gripped his shoulder, but before he realized it, she was pushing him back, gasping for air, her wild eyes wide.

"You need to leave!" she ordered angrily, though he was still leaning toward her, his wet lips half-open.

"But-" he started.

"No, Puck, you have to go. This is a horrible, stupid, stupid mistake. God, what am I doing?" she stood up, running her hand through her dark hair.

"Shelby, it's okay!" he said, rising from the couch and reaching for her.

"No!" she yelled, "Go, Puck, just go!"

In the nursery, Beth started to wail. Shelby deflated, looking close to tears.

"I'll get her," said Puck.

"No," Shelby said, calming down, shaking her head, "Please, I need you to leave. Please."

Puck nodded, bewildered, and left the apartment.

xxx

Rachel stood with the curtains open on either side of her, smiling widely behind the floor-to-ceiling window. It was a small-ish hotel room the Berrys and the Andersons had pooled together for the kids, but the view was great. Quinn couldn't name any of the buildings she saw, but that didn't mean they weren't beautiful. It was a city that demanded your attention and she couldn't think of a more perfect place for her girlfriend. She was also impressed by how much her fathers trusted their daughter. Quinn couldn't imagine her own parents trusting her enough to book her a hotel room with her girlfriend. Then again, her parents would have a coronary if they knew she _had _a girlfriend.

"We need to go do something tonight," Rachel insisted, spinning around to look at the others, who were inspecting the pay-per-view movies on the room's TV set, the crisp room service menu and the mini-bar.

"Seven dollars for water?!" Kurt exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" asked Quinn, looking up at Rachel.

"We need to experience New York while we're here," said Rachel, "We have checkout in the morning, the interview and the tour of NYADA in the afternoon and then we have to catch a bus back to Ohio. We have to make tonight special!" 

"You know, we can save up some money and take a weekend trip to New York any time," Quinn shrugged.

Rachel pursed her lips. "This is different. We have a hotel room and all four of us are free. We should celebrate!"

"Rachel's right," Kurt nodded, "And I don't say that every day."

"Where would we go?" asked Quinn, "We don't know our way around the city."

"But Jesse does, right?" asked Blaine, "You were planning to call him up while we were here, right?"

"Right," Quinn nodded.

"So, he's lived here for a few months now. He probably knows somewhere fun."

Quinn shrugged and glanced at Rachel. "That okay with you?"

After what happened to Santana over the summer, Jesse leaving Lima had been like a slap in the face to Quinn, but even though she missed him like crazy, she never brought it up to Rachel. The two had spent some time together working on restoring Santana's soul, but always with Quinn as a buffer. There was still some serious tension between the two prima-donnas, and why shouldn't there be? Jesse had dated Rachel while dating her _mother_, only to abruptly dump her and then be abruptly dumped himself.

To Quinn's surprised, Rachel nodded gingerly, a smile still on her face. "Of course," she said, "We're in New York City! Seize the day!"

xxx

Will leaned forward on his living room couch, his face illuminated by his laptop screen. His plate of Indian takeout laid on the coffee table, untouched. He had ordered himself food but was now too distracted to eat it. There was virtually no record of Al Motta, but he had found considerably more on his wife, Cookie. She was, apparently, a beauty-pageant queen from Indiana who married into a high-society family and divorced only a few years ago. Will blinked at the screen, aware that that must mean that Sugar was her child from a previous marriage - Al's step-daughter.

Things were starting to make just a little more sense when a knock came on Will's apartment door. He shook at the sound and stood up, only now realizing that he'd forgotten to turn the lights on when the sun set. He flipped on a few light switches and headed to the door, peering through the peephole and blinking a few times before he could really understand that Terri was standing out in his hall.

He threw open the door and furrowed his brow at her. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Terri rolled her eyes. "Hello to you too, Will."

"Sorry, hi," Will sighed, "I'm a little distracted. I've been working."

"Surprise, surprise," Terri smirked, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," said Will, standing back to let her in, still a little confused.

He noticed as she walked in that she was carrying two plastic grocery bags. "You brought food?" he asked.

"Mm hm," Terri said proudly, "I'm going to make you a meal!"

Will loosened his tie, watching helplessly as Terri headed for his kitchen. He followed her, perplexed. "You're going to make dinner?"

"Yes, I am!" Terri chirped, laying the grocery bags down on the counter and removing several packages of organic food, "I was going to take you to lunch, and you said rain check. Well, Will, it's raining!"

"It is?"

Terri rolled her blue eyes again. "Will, crack open a window sometime. This place is so dark and colorless. You need a woman's touch in your life."

Will pressed his lips together, standing stiffly in the kitchen's entrance. "Look, Terri, you-"

"Don't have to do this," Terri sighed, "I know. But I want to. We've been on such bad terms for so long and I want to make it up to you. I still care about you, Will, and I know when you're not doing well."

Will squeezed the frame of the archway into the kitchen, his lips still pursed. He couldn't deny that she was right: he wasn't doing too well. His work as a watcher was better than it's ever been but his work as a teacher was dwindling and his personal life was virtually non-existent. He couldn't say much more when another knock came on his door. He sighed and left the kitchen, walking down the hall to peer through the peephole and see another blonde waiting behind the door.

He opened it, trying on a smile this time. "Hey, Buffy."

"Hey," Buffy smiled back at him, carrying a small box of candy bars in one hand. Her smiled faded as she heard the clank of frying pans coming from the kitchen. "You have company?"

"I guess so," Will sighed, "Come in. Were we supposed to have a meeting?"

"No," said Buffy, walking into the apartment as he closed the door behind her, "I just finished patrolling. Was in the neighborhood. Had twenty more candy bars to sell."

"Oh, no," Will laughed, "I already bought my share of chocolate."

Buffy shrugged. "Well, maybe your lady friend would like some."

Buffy made a beeline for the kitchen, curiosity piqued, just as Terri came out to them, carrying one bottle of red wine and one bottle of white.

"Oh, Buffy," Terri looked wide-eyed at the slayer, a little embarrassed.

"Terri," Buffy raised an eyebrow, "Uh, hi."

"Are you two doing some work?"

"Uh, no, I just stopped by the sell some more candy."

"Right," Terri nodded.

"You wouldn't want any, would you? I have twenty left. I'll cut you a deal. Five percent off."

"That's a one cent discount."

"It's the best I can do," Buffy shrugged.

Will frowned. "Buffy-"

"And it goes to us poor theater kids. We already get picked on enough. Don't make us join the Mock UN, like common nerds."

Terri laughed. "Anything for Will's favorite student. I'll find my wallet."

She disappeared back into the kitchen just as Buffy smugly set her candy down on and end table and lifted an eyebrow at Will. "Round two with the old wifey?"

Will looked mortified. "No," he said sternly, "She just showed up. She wants to cook for me."

"Been there," Buffy frowned.

"It's not like that. She's just worried about me."

"I'm sure she is. Welp, I'd better go."

"Already?" asked Will, "You know, I made a little bit of progress with the research on Al Motta. If you wanted to stay-"

"Can't," Buffy shrugged, "Mom's in hyperdrive. She wants me home, like, ten minutes ago."

"You can't tell her you're with me? We haven't had a real meeting about this situation yet-"

"Sorry, you know her," Buffy shrugged, already backing away, "Tell Terri she can give me the money on Monday, okay?"

Before Will could say much more, Buffy had sped out of the apartment and Terri popped her head back in, making him jump.

"I think I left my cash in the car. Where's Buffy?" she asked.

"Um, she left. She said you could give her the money on Monday."

"Oh, okay," Terri shrugged, and then once again lifted up her bottles of wine with a smile, "Merlot or chardonnay?"

xxx

Once again, Quinn and the gang piled into a cab and jetted right through the bright lights of Broadway - this time glowing in New York's not-quite-darkness - and toward a cocktail bar, where Jesse had promised over the phone he would meet them. They quickly emptied out of the cab when they reached their destination. The place was called A Minor and the kids' eyes sparkled at the long line of well-groomed twenty-somethings lining up to get in, wearing thick-framed glasses and thrift store t-shirts under sleek, expensive Alexander McQueen blazers. Kurt's fashion-forward eyes boggled out at them.

"Jesse!" Quinn called, instantly spotting the boy dawdling on the sidewalk, typing absently into his phone.

He looked up and his gray eyes warmed as he bounded forward and threw one arm over Quinn, pulling her into a friendly and much-needed hug. He looked good, his hair somehow darker, his eyes lighter and his clothes expensive.

"You're blond!" he smiled widely, looking down at Quinn as he pulled away from her hug.

Quinn touched the ends of her now pinkless bob. "I went back for homecoming," she shrugged.

"Well, thank God," he said, and glanced at the others, "Rachel. Doublemint Twins. Welcome to New York."

"How've you been?"asked Quinn.

"Let's talk in there," said Jesse, pointing toward the club, "Come on, I know a guy."

Jesse had used the same cryptic phrase when Quinn had talked to him on the phone. The scoobies-abroad followed him as he strolled past those who were waiting in line. The queuers scowled at them as they reached the front of the line, where a surprisingly slender bouncer was waiting, his head shaved and a black suit draped over his leanness.

"Jesse St. James," he said, smiling coyly up at the bouncer, "I think you'll find I have a reservation."

The bouncer snorted. "We don't do reservations."

"Well, then I'm on the list. I'm V.I.P. Whatever the term is that'll get you to let me in."

The bouncer curled a distasteful lip up at Jesse. "And why should I let you in, Timberlake?"

"The club owner is a good friend of my employer."

"Oh, yeah, and who's that?" the bouncer asked, unimpressed.

Jesse reached inside the breast of his jacket and removed a small, black business card, handing it smugly to the bouncer, who took one wide-eyed look at it and stood back, removing a thin velvet rope in front of the door. Jesse glanced at the scoobies behind him and beckoned them to follow. Stunned, they did, and took in their surroundings as they entered a darkened yet colorful, jazzy bar full of high-society hipsters. A youthful band, who no-one was paying much attention to, played a melancholy, hard-to-recognize version of 'Happy', with lots of cymbal and bass guitar.

"This place is amazing," Kurt exclaimed as Jesse led them to a quiet corner of the club, where turquoise couches were collected in a semi-circle.

"Who's your employer?" Quinn wrinkled her nose, "I didn't even know you had a steady job."

Jesse shrugged. "Well, the orange juice commercial fell through."

"And now you're working for…?" Quinn asked, not letting up.

Jesse smirked, rolled his eyes, and handed another black business card to Quinn, who scrunched up her face at it.

"Tiffany Greenwood?"

Kurt gasped and grabbed the card from her. "_The _Tiffany Greenwood? This is not real!"

"'Fraid it is," Jesse shrugged, unable to look as aloof as he wanted to. He was just too delighted by the attention.

Even Rachel snatched the card away from Kurt, sucking in some air. "No way are you working for Tiffany Greenwood," she shook her head, "This has to be a different Tiffany Greenwood. Not the two-time Oscar nominee!"

Jesse smiled wider. "I actually prefer her forays into independant film. Very underrated performances."

Kurt almost screamed. "How do you work for her?! Are you her apprentice? Her protege?!"

"Almost. I'm her nanny."

Quinn snorted. "You're a _nanny_?"

"Just until this acting thing shakes out," Jesse shrugs.

"How did you manage to get hired by Tiffany Greenwood?" asked Blaine.

"I just had to tell her about my years in childcare education and adorable anecdotes about my beloved younger siblings, and she didn't want anyone else but me," Jesse shrugged proudly.

"So you lied?" Quinn smiled, "And she didn't think to do a background check?"

"Please," Jesse waved her away, "One voice augmentation spell and a phone call of recommendation from Angelina Jolie, and I was the hottest nanny in Manhattan. Figuratively and literally."

"Nope, just figuratively," Quinn shook her head.

"Be nice. I got you in here, didn't I?"

"No, technically Tiffany Greenwood got us in here."

"You have to tell us everything about her!" Kurt gushed.

"Please, there's plenty of time for that," Jesse shook his head with faux modesty, "Facebook. Texting. Even old-fashioned e-mail. You're in New York City tonight. Go, soak it up."

Rachel smiled widely and leaned in closer to Jesse. "Is it still magical? Living here?" she asked.

Jesse smiled and nodded. "Maybe after a year I'll be a jaded New Yorker, but for now, yeah. It's downright enchanting."

Looking satisfied, Rachel stood up and smoothed down the lime-colored dress she'd borrowed from Quinn (who'd taken it from Santana's old closet) and squealed, "I'm going to go see if I can spot some famous people!"

"I'll order us some drinks," said Jesse.

"Ooh!" Rachel buzzed excitedly, "Get me a Manhattan!"

xxx

Santana was stretching when Buffy came into the condo. Reaching for the tips of her toes to stretch the limber, vampiric joints of hers that normally needed no stretching. It must have been a habit, Buffy thought, from her cheerleading days. Stretching and warming up before a workout. Santana would never need to work out ever again for any other reason than relaxation.

"Buffy," she sighed, looking up as the slayer strolled in.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, scrunching up a brown paper bag of pigs' blood in her hand.

"Better," Santana replied, and stood up from her yoga mat, centered in a room that could have been a dining room if it had any furniture.

"We're going to need to make a trip to Ikea some time," Buffy mumbled as she eyed the crown molding.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Santana said quickly, like it was her plan all along to force the stiff sentence out of her mouth.

Buffy blinked at her. "No, don't be. You're going through a lot right now."

"Yeah, I just… I didn't mean to…" Santana stammered, running a hand through her thick, black hair. Always so bad at apologizing. "How's your boyfriend?"

Buffy blanched at the sentence, delivered without a hint of sarcasm. "My what?"

"You said you were seeing someone. Joe."

"Oh. No, Joe is no more. N-Not like he's dead. He's just not my- He's fine. This is for you," she said, awkwardly holding out the paper bag, "It's fresh from the butcher."

"Thanks."

Santana took the bag from her, holding it tensely by her side, her expression inscrutable. No, not inscrutable, Buffy realized. She was embarrassed.

"Have you seen Angel?" the vampire asked.

"No," Buffy shook her head, "I mean, not since school started. He's still in New York. He doesn't know. I don't have any way to contact him… but things get back to him, right? He has his mysterious sources."

"He should come back. I mean, I'd like him to."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded.

"He could help me get better. Get blood for me. Keep me company... And you wouldn't have to come around anymore."

Buffy flinched. "No, I guess not."


	92. The Interview

**Chapter 89**

**The Interview**

Buffy came home to find her mother standing at the end of the stairwell, biting anxiously on a square of chocolate, her eyebrows quirked in a stern way. Buffy closed the door behind her and smirked.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. You know Mr. Schue. All slay all the time," she laughed.

Joyce glanced in the direction of the living room and Buffy heard a man clear his throat. She twirled around to see Will sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his hands clasped together, his expression an authentic high-school-teacher blend of concern and disappointment.

"Buffy, you lied to us. And you made us your alibis. That's playing us against each other and that's not fair," Joyce shook her head as Will stood and joined them in the foyer.

"I called Tina," said Will, "You also lied to her about where you were. We were all worried sick."

Buffy wrung her hands together as Joyce offered her watcher a square of her candy bar. "Look, I'm sorry, you guys, I just… had stuff to do."

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Were you at the Bronze? What was so important that you had to lie to us?"

"Just, I'm sorry, okay?" Buffy stammered, "Can we just forget about it?"

"No, we cannot just forget about it," Joyce frowned, "You're acting very immaturely, Buffy."

Will grimaced. "Listen, Buffy, I know I'm not your parent, but-"

"No, you're not my parent," Buffy huffed at her watcher, "And yet you felt the need to tattle to mommy?"

"Buffy!" Joyce gasped.

"I'm still responsible for you, Buffy," Will said, sternly clenching his jaw, "And I agree with your mother. You're being childish."

Buffy almost laughed. "How else do you expect me to act when I'm being treated like a child? You're both scheduling me for twenty-four hours a day. That's too many hours! I just want to be able to make my own decisions!"

"Last time you made your own decisions, you ended up alone in Manhattan," Joyce challenged, still chewing distractedly on her chocolate.

"Yeah, and I took care of myself just fine. I don't need this much active parenting."

"You can't possibly be trying to use this summer as a reason you should be trusted."

"You can't babysit me all the time!" Buffy yelled.

"Come on, Buffy," Will sighed, "Chill out."

Buffy wrinkled her nose at her watcher. "Chill out?"

"I just think it's time everybody calmed down for the night. I think you should go to bed."

Buffy raised her eyebrows at the both of them before huffing and storming upstairs. Joyce jumped at the sound of her slamming bedroom door.

"She drives me crazy!" Joyce said under her breath, exasperated, "I just want to protect her."

"Most parents want that," said Will, taking a weary seat back on the couch.

"At least other parents have an idea of what they're protecting their children from," said Joyce, joining him.

Will nodded. "I guess we should both be extremely careful."

xxx

Mike tapped an anxious finger against his sweating glass of ice water. He had spent hours in football practise pushing himself to his limits, forcing him to take his mind off of useless things, like whether or not his father was having an affair, and then had gone home to shovel his mother's spaghetti and meatballs down his throat, barely tasting the marinera. His plate was practically licked clean as he watched his parents finish off their salads. He couldn't help but notice how his father frequently glanced at his cellphone, which was sitting potently beside his plate. Mike grabbed the bowl of salad and dished some onto his plate just so he'd have something to do.

"How was football pratice, honey?" asked Mrs. Chang.

Mike looked up as he speared some shredded radish with his fork. "Fine."

"I hope you're not spending too much time with the team. SATs are coming up very soon."

"I know."

"And you've signed up for SAT prep? You know that class can be really helpful. Right, dear?" she asked proddingly, her eyes trained on her husband.

Mr. Chang looked up from his salad, raising his eyebrows. "Definitely," he said, his face blank.

"Your scores have to be perfect if you want to go to Harvard," Mike's mother reminded him, making his stomach tense, "Right, Michael?"

Mr. Chang nodded. "Yes, that's right," he said, and reached for his phone.

Mrs. Chang pursed her lips. "Take a break for one second and help me clear the table," she sighed, exasperated, and stood up with her own emptied plate in her hand.

Mike stood from his chair, but his mother laid a hand on his shoulder and said, "It's okay, Mikey, finish your salad first."

Mike sat back down and watched his father leave the table with the salad bowl in his hands. Mike brought a forkful of baby spinach up to his mouth and paused when he noticed his father's cellphone still lying idly on the dining room table. He peered over his shoulder, listening to the soft clanking of silverware as his parents cleaned up. Mike looked back at the phone and reminded himself that it would be disrespectful to look through it. He had to do the right thing and let the chips fall where they may. He had to follow the rules of common courtesy. _Oh, screw it._

Mike hastily grabbed his father's cell, keeping his ears peeled for either of his parents' approaching footsteps. The phone had a four-digit password. Mike scanned his brain and typed in his own name.

ACCESS DENIED

His father's birthday?

ACCESS DENIED 

His own birthday?

ACCESS DENIED

Mike furrowed his brow and glanced at the china plates hanging on the southern wall of the dining room, edged in gold and inscripted with his parents' anniversary date: 08/93. His father had surprised his mother with the set just a few months ago. China for their twentieth anniversary. Mike dubiously typed in the four-digit date and exhaled when the phone opened up to its main menu. Mike leaned over and quickly found the call log. He wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar names that his father had received calls from. A few from him, a few from his mother, but an overwhelming number of them came from someone named 'Remington'.

xxx

Kurt twisted and turned in his sleep. He and Blaine had come back to the hotel room and crashed quickly on the bed opposite from the girls', falling asleep almost as soon as their heads hit their pillows, their trousers undone and half-heartedly tugged down in a drunken attempt to change into their pajamas. He'd never seen so many amazing, fruity cocktails in his life. He and Blaine had ordered too many to count - on Jesse - each with its own ridiculous name and extravagant garnish. Meanwhile, Quinn had nursed the same lemon martini all night while keeping a cautious eye on her girlfriend, who had quickly downed some Manhattans only to figure out that Cosmopolitans were right up her alley, exclaiming with an awed excitement that 'they taste like pink'.

What Kurt hadn't considered, when he fell asleep in the same room as his friends, was their dreams. Rachel had passed out, her mind totally blank, but the other two had active imaginations, sending Kurt back and forth through their subconscious. Blaine's dreams were easier to handle. Chasing full moons, fencing with Zorro, being pulled onstage by P!nk at Madison Square Garden. Quinn's dreams were more alarming. Setting whole graveyards on fire. Sticking her blond head in an oven a la Sylvia Plath. Rachel naked. And Kurt thought Finn's dreams were bad.

He found himself, for the first time, with the motivation to kick himself in his sleep and wake himself up. Her jerked in bed and squinted his eyes, finding the room completely illuminated in sunlight. He turned over to face the window and winced at the brightness. Apparently no-one had thought to close the curtains when they all fell asleep. He lifted himself up and glanced at Blaine, who was lying beside him with his jeans pulled down to his thighs and his hair thick and curly, all of his gell rubbed off on the silky pillow. Kurt looked over at the girls, tangled into each other on the other bed, Rachel's mouth wide open and snoring. He brought his hand to his pounding head and tried to identify the soft beeping that was like a bee sting through his temples. He looked at the alarm clock sitting at the nightstand and it's glowing red numbers.

"Oh my God!" he yelled, and the other three jerked awake, blinking in the sunlight, Rachel lapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth, grimacing at the stale taste of alcohol.

"Kurt," Quinn groaned, wiping sleep from her eyes.

"It's ten o'clock!" he screeched, leaping from the bed.

Rachel sat straight up, her eyes wide and rimmed with smudged mascara. "What?!"

"It's ten!" he yelled again, hastily pulling up his pants, "We're late! We're late for our interviews!"

"Oh my God," Rachel cried and jumped out from under the sheets, diving toward her suitcase for a clean outfit.

xxx

"I heard that there's a secret rule that if a teacher's more than ten minutes late, we're allowed to leave."

Tina had been staring at her script, memorizing the few lines she'd been granted in the school musical. She looked up when Kitty had broken the silence, standing with her hands on her hips at the edge of the auditorium's stage, the hem of her Cheerios mini-skirt barely reaching midthigh.

"You can go back to study hall if you want," she shrugged.

"I think I _will_ go back to study hall," Sugar whined, "Why stay here and do absolutely nothing when I could go there and do absolutely nothing?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Why are you here, anyways?"

"I told you, I'm Quinn's understudy," she sneered, "I'm filling in for the day."

"You know, he didn't show up for sophomore Spanish, either," said Kitty, "Maybe he ditched for the day."

Buffy looked skeptical. "Mr. Schuester doesn't ditch anything. He's Mr. Honor Your Duty and Stick to Your Commitments."

Puck and Finn shared a laugh over the word 'duty' across the room. The whole cast of the musical, including the choir, were gathered in the auditorium for rehearsals. They were bored out of their minds, lounging in the front seats or pacing around the stage, waiting for Mr. Schuester to arrive. Since Buffy had caught sight of Sugar, she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid a conversation with Will about the Mottas. She knew they would have to formulate a plan to get rid of Al, or at least drive him out of town, but she couldn't stand anymore war room talk when she already had so much on her mind. She absentmindedly picked at a fingernail when Principal Figgins stormed in, looking annoyed.

"Children," he cleared his throat, "Your rehearsal is canceled."

"Mr. Schue didn't show up?" asked Buffy.

"No," Figgins rolled his eyes, "Pinhead didn't show up."

Buffy and Tina shared an uneasy look. "Is everything okay?" asked Tina, "Is Mr. Schuester okay?"

"I don't know," Figgins sighed, "All I know is that he isn't here. Hasn't been here all day."

"Are we supposed to go back to study hall?" asked Kitty.

Figgins rolled his eyes. "I don't _know_. Everybody thinks because _I'm _the principal, _I'm _supposed to know _everything_. It's not _fair_."

The principal kicked stubbornly at the floor before stalking out of the auditorium, mumbling to himself, leaving the theater kids gaping in his wake.

xxx

"Rachel Berry?"

Rachel winced at the sound of the receptionist's shrill call. She removed her massive Tory Burch sunglasses and peered into the reflective surface of her cellphone, wiping mascara residue out from under her eye. She and the others had rushed to pack their stuff and check out of the hotel room, stumbling to the nearest subway station and finding their way to NYADA's swanky hall. She stood from where she'd been seated in the waiting room. There were a dozen other bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, would-be performers, reciting sample answers from flash cards, tongue-twisters rolling out of their mouths like they were about to audition for a play.

"Mr. Richmond will see you now," the receptionist said, looking troubled as she laid eyes on Rachel and slid back behind her desk.

Rachel nodded politely and walked through the tall, polished wood doors of the admissions officer's office. Just last week she'd been disappointed to find out that she wouldn't be interviewing with Carmen Tibideaux herself, but now she was grateful that the Dean of Vocal Performance was nowhere in sight. The last thing Rachel wanted was for a renowned Broadway performer and opera singer to see her with an aching hangover.

"Ah, Ms. Berry," Mr. Richmond greeted her from behind his desk, looking up from a manila folder that she was half-sure contained her sign-up sheet for the interview and tour, "Have a seat. How are you today?"

Rachel padded forward and lowered herself into the seat, avoiding the rays of sun beaming through Mr. Richmond's wall-to-wall window. Truthfully, she'd never felt worse. A sickly feeling was rolling around in her stomach, a searing pain was throbbing through her temples and her tongue tasted like roadkill.

She smiled sweetly and said, "Very good. Thank you for having me."

"Of course," Mr. Richmond smiled kindly. He had silver hair and crow's feet, but everything else about him seemed youthful. "The sign-up sheet you sent in was quite comprehensive. You added much more information than we asked for."

"Sorry," Rachel smiled bashfully, trying not to wince from the bravado of his booming voice.

"Not at all. We were impressed and, if I'm being frank, amused by your enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is very good here at NYADA. So, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Rachel swallowed and tried to remember the pages and pages of bullet-pointed sample answers she'd printed and laminated for herself. She'd perfectly calculated everything she wanted to say. _The first thing you should know about me is that I'm not afraid to put myself out there. I'm from a small town on Ohio and if I may speak with candor, there is not a lot of encouragement to excel. With that said, I've become class vice president, earned a pivotal role in the school's production of West Side Story and am captain of the show choir - which, by the way, is projected to win a top ten space in the National championships by the end of the year._

Rachel licked her lips, wary that Mr. Richmond was waiting patiently for her to answer. "What you should know about me… Well, the first thing, anyways…" she laughed nervously and then quickly brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a small burp that tasted like stale vodka, "Sorry! Hiccups!"

Mr. Richmond smiled sympathetically. "So, you're from Ohio?"

"Yes! And, if I'm being totally honest, the people of Ohio aren't really encouraged to… succeed."

Mr. Richmond raised a pale eyebrow. "Is that really how you feel? I happen to have quite a few successful friends who hail from Ohio-"

"Oh, no, no, of course there are successful people from Ohio. I just mean, where I come from, which is a small town, people tend to believe they're predestined for mediocrity."

"Couldn't you argue that that all depends on your definition of success? Perhaps for some people, the ultimate goal is the foster a nurturing family life or-"

"No, of course, that's not what I meant!" Rachel said, raising her hand to her temple. Her own voice was giving her a headache. She hoped she didn't sound like she was snapping at him. She was already embarrassed by how frequently she was interrupting.

Mr. Richmond leaned forward, looking concerned. "I just want to remind you, Ms. Berry, that this is a casual, informal interview. Your audition and application later on in the year are the most important components of your admittance. Right now, we just want to have a chance to get to know you and to answer your questions. Alright?"

Rachel nodded, rubbing her tongue against the walls of her cheeks in hopes of getting rid of the horrible taste in her mouth. "Yes, of course," she replied.

"Great. Now, it says here that you're interested in majoring in Vocal Performance with a minor in Theater Studies. How long have you been interested in theater?"

Rachel smiled, albeit bittersweetly. This was the prime question for which she'd been hoping. This was her opportunity to tell Mr. Richmond all about her years of involvement in community theater, her fathers' influences, her love for Barbra Streisand and her annual trips to Broadway. She leaned forward, feeling her stomach rolling and tightening. She tried to ignore it but when she opened her mouth to answer the question, she lurched forward, brown liquid and a few red remnants of maraschino cherries splattering from her throat and onto Mr. Richmond's desk.

xxx

Kurt darted through another one of NYADA's narrow corridors, past students carrying violin cases and doing vocal warm-ups. He wished he had time to meander chipperly through the near-historic school and imagine himself here next fall, but he was pathetically late for his interview and the room he was supposed to be in was all the way across the building from where Rachel was. He narrowed his eyes at the room numbers written on plastic plates on the doors and figured his room was only down the hall. He was just a few paces away when a lightning bolt of pain jolted through his head, even more searing than the dull ache he was already suffering from thanks to a variety of cocktails.

He leaned over, feeling his knees hit the floor as his vision went blank. He hated that he was doing this now, where anyone could walk past and see him. He tried to suppress it but the vision kept coming; and it was a clear one. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Playful, sinister smile. He put all the features together with heart-sinking certainty. The vision ended and he blinked the spots out of his eyes. He looked around himself at the empty corridor, a few students passing at the end of the T-shaped hall but paying him no mind. He raised himself from the ground, still clutching his dizzied head, when a woman stepped out of the room he was supposed to interview in. Wearing a slimming skirt suit, she locked the door behind her and walked down the hall toward Kurt.

"Ms. Kesler?" asked Kurt, smoothing down his floral-printed button-down.

The woman locked eyes with Kurt, her auburn hair in old Hollywood starlet waves. "May I help you?"

"Um, I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm supposed to be interviewing with you. I know I'm late…" he sighed, peering back at her disappointed expression.

"Yes, that's too bad, Mr. Hummel," Ms. Kesler frowned, "I was just about to take my lunch break."

"Is there anyway I can do the interview now, really quickly?" he asked, beginning to panic.

"I don't think so," Ms. Kesler simpered, "I have a fairly rigid schedule today. Perhaps you could schedule for a more formal interview in a couple months."

Kurt's mouth hung wide open, unable to speak. He couldn't believe he had come all the way to New York for this interview and didn't even make it.

"Oh, you dropped something," said Ms. Kesler, leaning down to pick up a small black piece of paper that had fallen on the floor, presumably when Kurt had collapsed into a vision. Ms. Kesler picked up the square and peered at it, her eyes widening. "Is this real? It is, I don't believe it!" 

Kurt squinted at her and the square, until he realized it was Tiffany Greenwood's business card. He had wrangled one from Jesse in hopes of toting it around like a souvenir or possibly pasting it onto the collage above his bed with his glossy magazine photos of Audrey Hepburn and Marion Cotillard. He had asked Jesse why no-one questioned the authenticity of his business card and the boy had pointed out the silver-ish signature in the back corner. It was a hologram, just like the blue ribbon on the hundred dollar bill. That - Jesse had stated - was how much of a big deal Tiffany Greenwood was.

"You know, she's attended a bunch of NYADA's fundraiser dinners," said Ms. Kesler, handing Kurt the card back, "I always thought of how much traction she would bring to the school if she taught even one afternoon acting class. Can you imagine? You have friends in very high places, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt gave her back a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to admit that he'd never so much as been in the same room as Tiffany Greenwood. The most famous person he'd ever met was the fourth runner up of Miss Ohio the year she was a judge for their show choir Regionals.

"Hey," Ms. Kesler smiled coyly, "How would you like to go to lunch with me? My treat. I'd hate for you to miss the chance to talk to an admissions officer in person and I'd love to pick your brain."

Kurt bugged out his eyes at the woman. Friends in very high places, indeed.

xxx

Buffy and Tina trotted down the front steps of McKinley High side-by-side as classes finished for the day. They had reluctantly retreated to study hall after the news that their instructor was absent and spent the rest of the day perturbed by Will's disappearance and by the apathetic attitudes that their teachers exhibited for the rest of the day. They were all listless in their lessons and Tina told the glee clubbers that in World Geography, Mrs. Hagberg told them to take out a book and pretend to be working. They all seemed eager to goof off and get out of dodge. Their classmates were excited by the faculties' new demeanours, but Buffy knew enough to question everything. This was the Hellmouth. Something was up.

"Can you drop me off at Will's?" Buffy asked her friend as they walked through McKinley's parking lot, criss-crossing paths with their schoolmates, "I have a bad feeling. If he was sick, he would've told me. He would've at least called the school."

Tina nodded, looking equally concerned. Her father's faded VW bus was in their eyeline but as they walked toward it, Buffy heard footsteps fast approaching behind them. She whipped around on instinct to see Mike bounding their way. Tina followed her gaze, her eyes widening a little at the sight of Mike rushing toward her.

"Tina, hey," he panted, "I've been looking for you all day."

"You have?" asked Tina.

"We need to talk."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I'll wait by your car."

Tina nodded as her friend walked away toward the small bus and left her with Mike, standing near a teacher's empty Audi. "What's wrong?" she asked the tall boy.

Mike bit his bottom lip. "It's about my dad."

"Oh. Did you talk to him?"

"No… I went through his phone."

Tina raised her eyebrows with genuine surprise. "Mike-"

"I know. A total betrayal of trust and unethical behavior," Mike nodded, looking exhausted and guilty.

Tina smirked and shrugged. "I just wasn't aware you'd become such a detective."

Mike smiled bittersweetly back at her. "I looked at his call log."

"Yeah?" asked Tina, starting to feel troubled by what Mike could've possibly found on his father's cellphone.

"I don't know what I was thinking. That maybe I would find a bunch of calls to some bored, cheating housewife named Heather or Brandi," he snorted, shaking his head, "Or worse, calls to contacts with names like 'blond at bar' and 'single mom at market'. Like my dad is some womanizer having one-night-stands with every woman in town."

"That doesn't sound like your dad at all," Tina said reassuringly.

"I know," Mike sighed, running a hand over his hair.

"And it's not like he's gone more than usual. He's just on the phone a lot."

"I know. He's just so evasive lately. He was never a big affectionate quality-time dad but this feels different, like he's keeping a really big secret."

Tina grimaced. "What did you find?"

Mike sighed. "Almost all of the calls were to or from someone named 'Remington'."

Tina wrinkled her nose. "Do you know anyone named Remington?"

"No. Do you?"

Tina wracked her brain. "I don't think so. It sounds like the name of a butler from a bad mystery movie. Unless it's a last name. A co-worker, maybe?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. There were other calls, to my mom, or to his work friends. Quite a few to something called 'W' and 'H'."

Tina got an 'a-ha' look on her face and took out her cellphone, pulling up a search engine. "That sounds like it would be a company, right? Like, a corporation called W&H hired your father to work through some legal stuff for them?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, maybe Remington isn't a person. Maybe it's a company, working with a successful corporate lawyer like your dad. Remington Arms, maybe?" asked Tina, holding up her Google search on 'Remington' displayed on her phone.

Mike looked doubtful. "Then why all the secrecy? The one thing Dad loves to talk about is work. Why wouldn't he say anything if he landed some sort of legal consulting job with a big new company?"

Tina pursed her lips. "I don't know. I'll look into it. Remington and W&H, whatever they are."

Mike sighed with relief. "Thanks, Tina. I don't know what I'd do without you."

As Tina blushed under Mike's gaze, Buffy leaned against the hood of the bus, waiting patiently for her friend to join her. She turned her head when something darkened the corner of her eye and she saw Terri approaching her with a nervous smile on her face, picking at her fingernails.

"Buffy!" she smiled warmly, "How are you, girlfriend?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Fine…"

"So, have you seen Will lately?" Terri asked as she stopped in front of Buffy, dropping her hip and casually twirling her blond hair in her fingertips as if they were gossiping at their lockers, "I'm just asking because I noticed he wasn't in school today."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know where he is. He's not answering his phone. I was just about to go to his apartment."

"Oh, right, cool," Terri nodded casually, and rifled through her pocket for a pack of cinnamon gum, "Want one?

"No, thanks," Buffy smiled, glancing at Tina, wondering how long she would be.

Terri tossed a piece of gum in her mouth. "So, like, how's he been lately?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "...Fine."

"Is he, you know…?" Terri started to giggle, looking embarrassed, "Is he seeing anyone?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Just, I never see him talking to other girls, but you never know… He could be dating someone older. Or someone out of town. But, whatever, y'know."

Buffy nodded, staring at the back of Tina's head. "Yeah, Terri, I don't really think Will is seeing anyone. I think it's going to be a while before he starts dating again."

"Right," Terri nodded, "Because of Ms. Pillsbury… God, that is so sad. Poor baby. He probably needs a shoulder to cry on…"

Buffy exhaled when she saw Tina turn away from Mike and walked toward them. She bid Terri farewell and boarded the Chang's bus. Tina drove downtown toward Will's apartment, telling Buffy about Mike's dilemma with his father all the way there. She dropped Buffy off at the apartment complex and headed off to the suburbs to tutor a freshman for an hour. The slayer was surprised at how quickly and nonchalantly her watcher had buzzed her up, sounding light and airy on the other side of the intercom. When she headed upstairs to his apartment, she found him rifling through his CD collection his couch, wearing jeans and a 'Frankie Says Relax' t-shirt.

"Hey, Buffy," he smiled charmingly at her.

She raised an eyebrow at him, her backpack hanging from one of her shoulders. "Sorry, I just thought… you didn't show up to work today and after you gave me that I'm-just-disappointed face for ditching patrol I figured…" Buffy's face fell when she noticed Joyce sitting pretty on the armchair, one leg tucked under her lap, chomping on chocolate, "Mom, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, Mr. Schuester and I decided to have a talk. About you," Joyce smiled.

"About me?" Buffy asked worriedly.

Joyce nodded. "We thought you had a pretty good point earlier."

"You did?" asked Buffy, "And what point was that?"

"That we're babysitting you."

"We decided to work out a better schedule," said Will, "So you won't feel like you're being pulled in different directions. A perfect, tight balance between your home life and your slayer duties. Oh, The B-52's! These guys are great!"

Will plucked a bright yellow CD from the collection and ran toward the CD player on his coffee table.

Buffy frowned as Joyce rummaged through her purse. "We're going to be a little longer, honey. You take the car. Will can give me a ride home."

Buffy widened her eyes at the keychain Joyce had produced as Will started to play a song that sounded like it belonged in a knock-off James Bond movie. "What?" she exclaimed, almost panicked as her mother handed her the keys.

"Take them," Joyce coaxed her.

Buffy smirked. "You don't have to tell me twice. Well, actually, you did, but… Bye!"

Buffy snatched the keychain out of her mother's hand and darted to the door. Sometimes it was better not to question things. Even on the Hellmouth.

**Next up: Lima's adults are under a spell and the scoobies return from their trip in New York...**


	93. The Time Warp

**Chapter 90**

**The Time Warp**

They could hear the sound of the car's ignition humming to life and Buffy peeling out of the apartment complex's driveway. Joyce turned back to Will and squealed, her cheeks pink.

"Do you think she noticed anything?" she asked, giddy.

Will had already turned back to his B-52's CD, bobbing his head to the methodical bass. "Nah," he shrugged, glancing at Buffy's mother as she fished a bottle of Jose Cuervo out from under the armchair, where she'd hastily hid it when her daughter had arrived.

She twisted off the cap and took a swig, her face contorting at the strong taste. "You got any orange juice I can mix this with?"

"Uh-huh, in the fridge," Will replied, feeling a little uneasy.

He didn't want to look like a total loser, but he was kind of hoping Mrs. Summers wouldn't get too wild. It had sounded fun when she suggested hooking up to listen to music, but he didn't want to get into any trouble. He had been feeling marginally guilty when she rummaged through his liquor cabinet, before he reminded himself that he was totally an adult and it was _his _booze, anyways. He could do whatever he wanted to. Still, he couldn't shake the image of his mother shaking her head at him in disappointment.

Joyce returned with a red plastic cup of orange juice and tequila, taking large sips and trying really hard not to wince at the taste. She bopped along to the music as 'Planet Claire' changed to '52 Girls'.

"I love this song!" she exclaimed excitedly, "Sounds like the Go-Go's. Don't you love the Go-Go's?!"

Will shrugged. "The guys at school used to say that the Go-Go's were for girls… but, yeah, I guess they're kind of cool."

Joyce sidled up to him with her drink in hand, hips still shaking to the beat. "That's what's totally cool about you. You don't care what everybody else thinks. You're totally in touch with your feminine side. Dance with me!"

She slammed her drink down on the coffee table, some of the sticky liquid sloshing out.

"You should really use a coaster," Will mumbled as Joyce grabbed his hand and pulled him into the center of the room.

She started pulling him along, be-bopping, but when 'Dance This Mess Around' came on she started moving closer, her hands placed firmly on his back. Will was keenly aware of the fact that he was sweating through his button-up and he felt a strange jolt in his stomach when Joyce's hands started to slide downwards.

"Whoa," he stumbled backward.

"What's wrong?" Joyce asked, looking disappointed as her hands fell to her side.

"I just… I'm not…" Will stammered, "I have a girlfriend."

Joyce dropped one hip and pouted. "Who?!" she demanded.

Will shrugged. "You wouldn't know her. She lives in Canada…"

Joyce stuck out her bottom lip, looking skeptical. "I'll bet she does. Whatever, it's not like I wanted to hook up with you, anyways. You're a total square. I'm going out."

Joyce took one last swig of her drink and grabbed her jacket, slamming the apartment door behind her.

xxx

"This is it. My life, my dreams… It's all over."

Quinn bit down on her bottom lip to keep from telling Rachel that she was being dramatic. A comment like that would only exacerbate the situation. The brunette had looked pale as driftwood and near-catatonic when she had met the other three in front of NYADA's wide entrance. She had barely stammered out an explanation by the time the made their flight to Cleveland, and was slowly regaining her sanity after her horrific interview as their bus rolled through Ashland on their way home. Kurt had mostly kept quiet, afraid that regaling his fruitful lunch with Ms. Kesler would only add to Rachel's terrible mood.

"It was just one interview," Blaine said in an attempt to comfort her.

"It was _the _interview," she said in the seat behind the boys, clutching at her water bottle next to Quinn, "I have zero chance of getting into NYADA now."

"You still have your audition and your application," Quinn reminded her for the umpteenth time.

"No audition in the universe is going to make up for projectile puking on an admissions officer during the most important interview in my life." Rachel raised her sunglasses and squeezed the bridge of her nose.

"Even if you don't get in," Kurt began, which garnered severe looks from the other three, "It doesn't mean you should just give up on your dreams. There are other schools. And there are plenty of people who've made it on Broadway or in Hollywood who didn't even finish high school. You're already one step ahead of Marilyn Monroe."

Quinn smiled encouragingly at her girlfriend, as if to say, 'He has good point!', but Rachel didn't bite.

"If I don't get in…" Rachel mused, staring out of the bus's window at the water tower in the distance, before she shook her head, "I have to get in. I have to."

Quinn pursed her lips and peered at the girl, not wanting to kill her spirit with practicality, but wanting to know what she was thinking. "And if you don't?"

Rachel turned and gave Quinn a sober look. "New York is my dream. Broadway is my dream. If I don't get into NYADA, I can't stay in Lima. I can't."

Quinn nodded, knowing this was the most serious Rachel had ever been and wondering why she didn't feel the same. Like everybody else, she had grown up dreaming that she wanted to get out of this town, but knowing deep down that she would probably end up settling for mediocrity like all of the adults she knew. Now, she wasn't so sure. Were all of those settlers just less gutsy than her girlfriend, or did they actually _like _living in Lima? Was it possible?

"At least you got there on time," Kurt said half-heartedly, "That must count for something. I mean, it's more you can say for some of us."

Blaine smirked at his boyfriend's self-deprecation. All Kurt had said about his interview was that he had shown up too late, but luckily the admissions officer had a little time to spare. Blaine had a feeling that the interview had gone well and that was the only reason Kurt wasn't saying more about it; he didn't want to make Rachel spiral into even more hopelessness.

"Why _were _you so late?" asked Blaine, "Did you get lost?"

"No," Kurt waved a flippant hand, "I was almost there and then…" Kurt's eyes widened and he slapped a hand against his forehead. "I completely forgot! I have to text Buffy!"

He fished his cellphone out of his leather-sleeved coat and hastily began texting. The others peered curiously at him, even Rachel momentarily out of her funk to give Kurt a concerned glance.

"What is it?" asked Blaine.

Kurt quickly sent the text and gave his boyfriend a grave look. "Bryan Ryan's back."

xxx

Buffy had barrelled down Lima's main roads and through the narrower downtown streets, grinning with delight as she gripped her mother's steering wheel on her way to the Bronze. Her mom's offer had been completely out of the blue, especially when she had been expecting her to come up with even harsher rules after their little tiff. The slayer parked outside of a closed convenience store and walked down the street toward the thumping nightclub, which seemed even busier than usual. She walked into the Bronze with a smile on her face, taking in the happy-go-lucky dancers as they flung their bodies wildly to the beat of the indie band slamming guitars onstage.

It took her a moment to notice that this wasn't the Bronze's usual crowd. She didn't recognize anyone from school or even a stray college kid, but started recognizing a few parents and neighbors. As she scanned the crowd, she realized that mixed in with a few confused teens were throngs of over-fortys. Buffy blinked at the crowd as Kitty sauntered up to her, dropping a hip.

"Let's do the time warp again," she rolled her blue eyes, "No-one told me there was a Billy Joel tour in town."

Buffy smirked. "Maybe it's a reunion or something…"

"Buffy, there you are!" Tina called, rushing up to the two blondes as they stood a few feet from the entrance, warily eyeing the aged crowd, "Where have you been?"

"You dropped me off at Will's, remember?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

Tina sighed. "Have you checked your phone?" 

"Oh, no," Buffy smiled, glancing at her purse as it dangled on the crook of her elbow, "Mom gave me the car and I've seen enough It Can Wait commercials to know not to text and drive."

"Kurt had a vision," Tina explained, as Buffy found her phone at the bottom of her purse, brightly declaring that she had several missed calls and unread texts, "He thinks Bryan Ryan is back in town."

Buffy raised her eyebrows, her smile fading. "Is he sure?"

Tina shrugged. "When have his visions been wrong?"

"Who's Bryan Ryan?" asked Kitty.

Buffy clenched her jaw. "Black magic scum. If he's back on the Hellmouth, you know it's just to cause trouble."

"Do you think he has something to do with _this_?" Kitty gestured to the older crowd around them.

Before Buffy could answer, she felt a heavy hand slap down on her shoulder.

"Hola, chicas. Y'all havin' fun?" It was Coach Beiste, wringing her meaty arms around Buffy and Kitty's shoulders, red in the face and buzzed. "I know I am. This place is slicker than snot on a glass doorknob."

Kitty grimaced. "Ew."

"Coach Beiste, are you okay?" asked Buffy.

Beiste laughed. "You know I would be better if I got me some _nachos_. I'll see you ladies in a lil' bit."

Beiste bowled toward the bar as the girls gave each other horrified looks. "Something's up, for sure," said Buffy.

"You think?" asked Kitty, her eyes trained on a bob of frizzy blond hair as a couple on one of the couches passionately made out, grasping at each other's bodies.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at the clothes - the frayed skirt, the white sweater and the leather jacket that looked like it was stolen straight from her closet - and before she knew what she was doing, she had crossed the space between them and was grabbing the frizzy blonde by the shoulders.

"Mom?!" Buffy yelped after she had pulled Joyce up to reveal her makeup-stained face.

Joyce grimaced at her daughter, blushing brightly. "_What _are you doing? You're embarrassing me!" she whined.

Buffy widened her eyes. "What am _I _doing? What are _you_ doing?!"

Buffy looked down at the guy on the couch, looking past the 80's rainbow suspenders and the Ziggy Stardust makeup to zero in on the defining features: square glasses, hooked nose, familiar brown eyes.

"Mr. Berry?!" Buffy exclaimed, even more horrified than she was ten seconds ago as Rachel's father, Hiram, attempted to straighten up, "You were making out with my mom?!"

Hiram gave her a disdainful look as he tugged at one of his suspender straps. "Don't wig, alright?"

Buffy's brow furrowed. "But, you're gay!"

Hiram's face immediately went pink. "I'm not gay! You're gay!" he said defensively, looking close to tears as he sprinted away into the crowd.

"Ugh, thanks a lot, Buffy," Joyce snapped, "God, why do you have to be such a stiff?!" 

Joyce stomped away, past Kitty and Tina, and stormed out of the entrance. Buffy rushed up to the girls, looking urgent.

"Whatever's going on, we have to fix it, _now_."

"They're acting like…" Tina shook her head, at a loss.

"They're acting like _us_," said Kitty, looking vaguely amused.

Tina pouted. "I don't act like that."

"Whatever it is, it has Hellmouth fingerprints all over it," said Buffy, "Come on."

She led the girls out of the Bronze as she went after her mother, stepping out into the cool night air to scan the darkness around them for Joyce.

"Mom!" Buffy called, spotting Joyce with her arms crossed as she meandered down the street.

Joyce looked back at Buffy with contempt, but stayed rooted in the spot while Buffy caught up to her, the other girls following.

"What do you want?" Joyce sighed.

"Mom, look at me," said Buffy, "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do," Joyce rolled her eyes, "You're Buffy. Look, they're giving out candy back inside. Why don't we just go get some candy and try to have fun?"

"What? No, I don't want candy, and you shouldn't have any more, either."

"I can have more if I want," Joyce pouted.

"You need to go home."

Joyce scoffed. "Screw you."

Buffy reeled back. "Mom…"

"What? You want to slay stuff and I'm not allowed to do anything about it. Well, this is what I want to do, so why don't you just get off my back."

Buffy balled her hands into fists, completely unprepared for what was going on.

"I'll stay with her," Kitty offered.

Joyce and Buffy looked back at the girl.

"Yeah," Tina nodded, "Joyce and Kitty can hang out at the Bronze and eat candy, and we can go find Mr. Schuester without having to babysit them."

"Hey!" Kitty frowned.

Buffy looked back at her mom, who was smiling smugly down at the slayer. "Fine," Buffy said through gritted teeth, "Stay with Kitty, and out of trouble."

Joyce mouthed 'whatever' and sauntered off with the cheerleader. Buffy watched them disappear back into the Bronze before she looked at Tina. "This is way scarier than vampires."

xxx

Will had gone through four different albums before another knock came at his apartment door. He wondered if it was Buffy, or worse, her mother. He glanced around at the candy bar wrappers strewn all over the floor and the sticky residue of Mrs. Summers' abandoned drink on his coffee table. Without bothering to clean up, he trekked softly to the front door in his tube socks and looked through the peephole to see that it was Terri, waiting patiently in a warm pink cardigan, her hair tied up into a high ponytail. He felt a familiar flutter in his chest and quickly looked in the hall mirror, running his hair back and wiping the chocolate smudges from the corners of his mouth before opening the door.

"Terri," he breathed, smiling down at her wide blue eyes, "What's up?"

Terri smiled nervously and peered over his shoulder. "Uh, I just wanted to, you know, hang out. See what you were doing. Maybe watch Star Wars or something."

Will furrowed his brow. "Really?"

Terri sighed, looking embarrassed. "Actually… I heard you were with a girl."

"Oh," Will raised an eyebrow, wondering why Terri cared if he was with a girl, but feeling secretly pleased that she did, "Well, I was."

A spark of something flashed through Terri's eyes. "Who?"

"Buffy's mom."

Terri wrinkled her nose. "Figures."

"But she left," Will said quickly.

"She did?"

"Yeah. She was getting kind of sloppy drunk on my tequila so I kicked her out."

Terri widened her eyes, looking impressed. "You did?"

"Uh-huh," Will nodded nonchalantly, "Oh, s-sorry, did you want to come in?"

Terri nodded, her eyes brightening. Will closed the door behind her as she walked inside and pricked her ears, listening intently to the music wafting in from the living room. "Hall & Oates?"

"Yes!" Will smiled, "I love those guys."

"Oh, me too. Remember when me and Pam and Tiffany sang 'Rich Girl' in glee club?"

"Oh, yeah, that was great," Will nodded, remembering it vividly, "You're, like, the best singer I've ever heard."

Terri blushed. "Will, come on," she said bashfully.

"No, you are. You were the best in glee club, anyways. I can't believe it's been so long since we sang together."

"It really has been a long time, huh? We're like, _grown-ups_."

Will chuckled. "Freaky, huh?"

"Totally! Aw, Billy, I miss hanging out with you."

Will smiled at the sound of his nickname. It'd been so long since anybody had called him Billy. Once he graduated high school he fought for people to call him Will but now he couldn't remember why.

"I miss hanging out with you, too. You're not like other girls, you know. You're sweet. You're not… loose."

Terri's cheeks flushed red and she looked earnestly up at the boy. "Billy… This is going to sound totally gay, but… will you kiss me?"

xxx

Rachel trudged unhappily off of the bus and breathed in the faint smell of urine and gasoline that was trademark to the Lima bus station. To her, it smelled like failure and defeat. She peered out at the parking lot as her friends shuffled out behind her with their bags. She wasn't in the mood to tell her fathers how her interview went. She'd usually be happy to dramatically gush about it to them but if she wanted to tell them about her terrible day, she'd have to tell them about her drunken night.

"Where are your dads?" asked Quinn.

Rachel narrowed her eyes in the darkness. She was thinking the same thing.

"I'll call them," she said, and slowly following the other tired three to an outdoor bench.

The phone rang and rang on the other line, but after two tries each, neither of her fathers picked up.

"Something's wrong," Rachel said certainly, her eyebrows pulling together in trepidation.

"We don't know that," Quinn said reassuringly, "But it is strange…"

Rachel's thumb hovered over the speed-dial button, determining whether to try again or call a taxi, when her phone started to play the first notes of 'I'm the Greatest Star'. She quickly answered it with the others watching her expectantly.

"Buffy?" the girl answered the slayer's call with a sense of urgency.

First her dads didn't show up, now Buffy's calling her? She had a bad feeling.

"Are you guys back in Lima yet?" asked Buffy on the other line, almost distractedly.

"Yeah, we just got off the bus," said Rachel, "My dads aren't here yet. Is something going on?"

"Something is definitely going on. But don't worry, your dads are fine. They're just… younger."

"What does _that_ mean?" Rachel asked. Quinn mouthed 'What?' to her as Kurt and Blaine's stares grew more concerned.

"Something is making all of the adults in town act… weird. Like teenagers."

"Do you think it has something to do with Bryan Ryan being back in town?"

"It's a safe bet. Only, there's something else."

"What?"

"No-one's working or protecting their houses. They're just wandering. Defenseless. So where are all the vampires?"

Rachel felt a chill run down her back and looked around at the dank recesses of the bus station as their bus rolled away, back out of town. "Something's happening… somewhere else."

"Yeah, and I'd say something big."

"Well, when did this all start?"

"It had to be this morning. I mean, everything last night was totally normal. Your dads weren't acting weird before you left, were they?"

"No. They were fine. I mean, a little annoyed because they just started a juice cleanse and Rory and I made them buy all of our candy bars, but-"

"The candy!" Buffy exclaimed, almost loud enough for the other three to hear her.

"The candy? What about the candy?"

"It has to be the candy that's making them act weird. It has to be cursed! I mean, we all sold it to our parents and our parents friends and our teachers and stuff."

"But it's not like we know every adult in town. How did they _all _get their hands on that candy?"

"Well, they're giving it away for free now at the Bronze, but I think that's just to keep the spell from wearing off. It's worth looking into. Rachel, do you know where the candy came from?"

"N-no, it was sent to Mr. Schuester's office. He put me in charge of selling them. But maybe he has the return address."

"Yeah, well, I just dropped Tina off at the school library to do some research. I'll drive by the bus station and pick you guys up before I go to Mr. Schuester's, alright?"

"Alright, thanks, Buffy," Rachel nodded, and then after a beat, said, "You're _driving?!_"

xxx

Puck only had to knock twice when Shelby swung the apartment door wide open, the chaotic sounds of both Joan Jett and Beth's wails floating out into the hall. Shelby looked a little crazed, her shoulders tensed and black eyeliner ringed around her already smoky eyes.

"Thank God you're here," she said emphatically and pulled him inside, slamming the door closed behind her, "She won't stop _crying _and I wanted to go out tonight."

Puck glanced in the direction of the hall that led to Beth's nursery. "You're going out tonight?"

"Duh! Look at me," said Shelby, waving a flourishing hand around her ensemble.

Puck had to admit, she looked ready to hit the town, in a black mini-skirt and an almost startlingly sparkly, red tube top. He was so used to seeing her dressed in only black, gray and purple that to him, she looked like a different person.

"Did you need a babysitter for Beth?" he asked.

"I was going to leave her with cranky Mrs. Crumplebottom next door but I think she went joyriding, so I was gonna put to her sleep and leave."

Puck wrinkled his nose. "Is that safe?"

"Sure," Shelby shrugged, "I mean, I'll lock the place up before I go."

"But Beth will be alone?"

"Oh my God, I'll only be gone for a few hours! Everybody's at the Bronze except for me and it's all because of that damn baby."

Puck gave her a strange look, trying to determine whether she'd lost her marbles or not. "Okay," he sighed, wincing at Beth's cries from the other room, "What's with the Joan Jett?"

"I remember you said she liked classic rock," Shelby shrugged, looking helpless.

Puck almost laughed. "Okay, come on," he sighed and headed for the nursery with Shelby following closely.

"Hey, baby girl," he cooed, leaning over her crib as she held onto the rails, stamping her feet and crying, her face red.

"Turn that off," he said to Shelby, nodding to the iPod dock.

The sounds of 'Do You Want to Touch' were silenced as Puck picked up the still wailing infant and began to rock her. He bounced on the balls of his feet and started to sing.

"I'm sailing away," he sang softly, "Set an open course for the Virgin Sea. Cause I've got to be free, free to face the life that's ahead of me."

Shelby rested her head against the door jamb and watched contentedly as he sang.

"On board I'm the captain, so climb aboard. We'll search for tomorrow on every shore," Puck crooned sweetly as Beth's cries dulled to a mild whimper and she rested a heavy head on his chest.

The boy glanced at Shelby and gave her an encouraging smile. With a peaceful look on her face, the woman stepped forward to peer at Beth over Puck's shoulder and joined in.

"And I'll try, oh Lord I'll try to carry on," they sang in unison, Beth's eyes fluttering closed.

She was sound asleep by the time they finished the song and Puck lowered her softly back into her crib. Both of them stood over her, looking blissfully at the child. Shelby smiled down at her daughter and casually rested her head on Puck's shoulder, clad in a white t-shirt. Puck's heart started to beat faster when she said, "Look at us. We're like a little family."

Puck opened his mouth and closed it again, stunned. He had come to apologize for kissing to her, to assure her it would never happen again and that he wanted to be there for Beth. But he was thinking that his apology was no longer necessary. He didn't want to ruin this moment but he turned to her, about to tell her that they could be a _real _family, when she looked up excitedly, grabbed his elbow and hissed, "Come on, let's go!"

She darted out of the nursery and through the house, Puck following quickly behind her, flabberghasted.

"Shelby, wait!" he called after her as she ran straight out of the apartment and down the stairs of the small, gated complex.

"You brought your truck, right?" she asked, not waiting for an answer when she spotted his mother's pick-up truck in the parking lot and headed straight for it.

"Shelby! Hold on!" he called to her as she got into the passenger seat and immediately pulled down the rear-view mirror to check her teeth for lipstick smudges.

He swung the driver's side door open and jumped in, his eyes bugging out at her.

"Come on, let's go," she said again, expectantly.

"We're not going anywhere!"

"Why not?!" 

"We shouldn't leave Beth here alone."

"Why not? She's _asleep_ and I have to go out."

"Why?! Why do you have to go out? You're acting crazy!"

"No, I'm not!" she said defensively and held his stare for a moment before sighing and glancing out of the window, "I woke up this morning and she was crying and it was fine. I fed her and I changed her and I played with her and it was almost fun. I was like, 'Wow, I'm such a good mom'. But then she cried again when she woke up from her nap and she cried before dinner and she cries when she's tired and it's like all she does is cry and poop and eat and how am I ever supposed to have fun around here? Okay, maybe I'm acting a little crazy, but I _feel _crazy. People can't live like this. It's not fair, me doing stuff for _her _all the time. What about me? I need a _release_."

Puck sighed, his head boggled from her inarticulate ranting. "Look, I _get _it. It's gotta be hard for you. But you know I'm here. If you ever need a break, I'll always be there."

"I know," Shelby smiled fondly at him, "You've been the best, ever since I moved here. And I'm sorry for what happened the other day-"

"No, I'm sorry-"

"No, I am. I shouldn't have flipped out like that. I was a total spaz. I don't even know why. I mean, we make sense, don't we?"

Puck just widened his eyes at her more. The words seemed so absurd coming from her red-stained mouth that he was sure he had misunderstood them.

"I mean, I'm Beth's mom, and you're her dad. And we help each other. And we _like _each other," she said, the inches between them lessening as she leaned forward, her eyes trained on Puck's lips, "You do like me, don't you?"

"Of course I like you," Puck said breathlessly, her perfume settling on his tongue as her face grew closer to his, "I love you."

Shelby didn't say anything back, but quickly replied with a kiss. Puck's whole body shivered. This kiss was so different from their first. He had instigated it, hopeful, searching, while she leaned into him, just looking for warmth. But this time, it was _her _who kissed _him_, and that seemed to make all the difference. She was aggressive now, ramming her tongue against his, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirts and tugging, as if trying to take it off.

She pulled back and Puck almost thought she was going to freak out again and declare this a horrible mistake, rushing out of the car and back to her apartment. Instead, she hopped up and positioned herself on top of him, her hands scrambling to unbuckle his belt as she straddled his lap. A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Quinn's told him that this was insane, that she was his teacher, that she wasn't in her right mind, but a larger and more influential part of him decided that he didn't care. Without any trace of apprehension, he tugged his belt out of his jeans and whipped off his shirt.

xxx

When Buffy rang Will's buzzer, he had answered, sounding breathless and alarmed. He buzzed her up and it wasn't until she was trekking up his stairwell with the rest of the scoobies waiting in her mother's car that she considered how the spell would affect her watcher. She'd often wondered what he was like at her age, besides a glee club geek. She rapped her knuckles against his apartment door and he quickly answered, his hair mussed and one corner of his t-shirt tucked into his jeans.

"Will?" she looked up at him, apprehensive, "Are you… Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "You're Buffy. Uh, come in."

Buffy walked in, eyeing Will's naked feet, before glancing toward the open archway to the living room, where Terri was standing, the back of her hair tussled, buttoning her cardigan back up. Buffy glanced in between them and sighed, "Oh, ew."

"Buffy, hi!" Terri said too eagerly, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk to my watcher," Buffy said sternly, and glanced at Will, "You know that you're a watcher, right?"

Will rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he replied sullenly, as if Buffy had reminded him to mow the lawn, "And just call me Billy, okay?"

"Billy?" Buffy winced, "I so don't have time for this. Where did you get the candy?"

"What candy?"

"The candy for theater club! Where did you get it?! This is important, W- Billy."

Will sighed. "A bunch of teachers got them from this non-profit organization-"

"A bunch of teachers? How many?" Buffy asked worriedly.

"Every club in the school got ten boxes."

Buffy ran a hand over her hair. "That explains it. You have to tell me where they came from. Do you know where they were made?"

"Yeah, I mean, all the boxes say 'Made In Lima'. Besides, I have a letter, explaining the company policies, about how we have to sell the candy. That has the address on it."

"Perfect! Come on, let's go!"

"Wait, I have to come with you?"

Buffy blinked at him. "Yeah… I mean, my car is full so you'll have to drive separately-"

"No, I mean… I'm kind of in the middle of something," he said, eyeing Terri, who was now sulking quietly.

Buffy frowned. "This is more important."

"Says who?"

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone is always trying to tell me what to do. I didn't even _want _to be a watcher. I wanted to dance back-up for Vanilla Ice."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"I'm not going anywhere. You can't make me," Will said brazenly.

Buffy grimaced and glared at him. "Will, I need your help. I know you're having a pretty overwhelming bout of selfishness and rebellion right now, but something bad is happening and for all we know, people could die."

Will looked solemnly back at her and after a moment, turned to Terri. "I'll be back."

"What?" Terri snapped, "Billy, I'm not waiting around for you."

Will sighed. "Then come with."

"What?!" Buffy exclaimed.

Terri looked between Will and the slayer, considering the offer. "Fine. I'll come," she said smugly, and followed Will as he slipped on his shoes and headed for the door.

Buffy paled as she trailed after them. She couldn't wait for this day to end.

**Next up: Someone vulnerable is kidnapped and an old foe is confronted...**


	94. The Children

**Chapter 91  
>The Children<strong>

Will and Terri took the lead in the teacher's battered old Honda, swerving recklessly through the streets as they whizzed past dentists playing frisbee in the darkened park and church ladies spilling out of dive bars with stolen bottles of Smirnoff Ice. Buffy followed in her mother's Jeep, while the rest of her scooby gang - minus Tina, who was researching disturbing second childhoods in McKinley's library - cringed at the haphazard way she cruised behind the Honda, half of the vehicle jutting out into the other lane.

"I don't want to speak for everyone," Kurt said in the backseat, once again sandwiched between Blaine and Quinn, "But I would be more comfortable if you let me drive."

Quinn's shoulder slammed against the door as Buffy made a sharp right turn, tailing after the Honda as they twisted through Lima's abandoned industrial district, built when the town was pseudo-famous for making bottle caps. Now, Lima's only valuable local produce was corn and the only things to be found in the factories that lined the southern part of town were sinister at best.

Buffy rolled her eyes as Will's brake-lights flashed ahead of her. "Chill. We're here."

It wasn't difficult to tell which factory they were looking for. A whole crowd of adults were making a racket next to a loading dock, practically foaming at the mouth. Workers in blue jumpsuits were standing at the large mouths of the dock, tossing free candy bars into the mob. Buffy parked in the middle of the narrow street and stomped out of the car and through the crowd. The other six followed her nervously as she parted a path through the dozens of cheering people, who were blasting Twisted Sister through a boombox and stuffing their faces with free, half-melted chocolate.

Buffy grabbed hold onto the edge of the loading dock and lifted herself off. The employees, startled and annoyed, tried to push her back down, but she grabbed each of them by the backs of their clothes and threw them into the crowd. She held out her hand to help the rest of the scoobies up, and the seven of them ventured into the wide factory, the echoes of partying teen-dults sounding through the vast space. The place was loaded floor to ceiling with boxes of those nondescript, red-wrapped candy bars.

"It smells so chocolate-y," Terri said, her blue eyes wide with wonder as Buffy quickly led them around a corner.

There, she spotted him. Bryan Ryan, leaning over a conveyor belt, his blond hair slicked back with gel, crinkles at the edges of his eyes as he smiled and said into his cellphone, "Yeah, the town is wide open. You guys can make your move any time."

"Bryan Ryan," Buffy said loudly, folding her arms over her chest.

Bryan looked up, the playful spark in his expression disappearing. He locked eyes with Buffy and tightened his grip on his cellphone. "You might want to hurry," he said, before quickly ending the call.

"Bryan," Will frowned, sticking out his chest. Terri blushed beside him.

Bryan smirked. "Billy," he said, almost fondly, before turning quick on his Italian heels and running for the door.

Buffy ran after him and leapt over the conveyor belt as he bolted to another door, pulling a tall, wheeled crate out behind him to block the slayer's path. She quickly dodged around the crate and followed Bryan through the door. Beyond it were ceiling-high walls of candy-bar boxes, narrow paths cleared between them like a maze, and Bryan had just disappeared around one of their corners. Will was quick to follow behind the slayer and they were both vaguely aware of the other scoobies running after them, their footsteps slapping against the concrete floors.

Buffy twisted round and round through the maze-like corners, keeping a sharp ear out for the footsteps in front of her. She bounded around in a circle and realized she was at a dead end. There were nothing but cardboard boxes and a flat wall of wooden crates in front of her.

"Where'd he go?" Will panted.

"Shh!" Buffy ordered before twirling around and sending a flying kick into one of the crates. The wood splintered and fell apart just as Buffy pushed her hand in and brought back out a fistful of Bryan's shirt, pulling his head right out with it. Bryan blinked defeatedly at her, his head sticking right through the giant hole in the crate.

"Look," Buffy smirked, her breath perfectly steady, "A box full of farm-fresh chicken."

The slayer backed up, her fist falling away from Bryan Ryan as he scrambled out of the box, shaking splintered wood off of his dark blue suit.

"So," said Buffy, folding her arms, "What's going on, Bryan? And don't play any games with me. This is pretty much a talk or bleed situation."

"Hit him!" Will goaded her with enthusiasm.

"I would just like to start by saying that this was not my idea," said Bryan, as Buffy flashed Will a quick glare.

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning back to the culprit, her hands on the hips of her high rise jeans.

The man gulped, his eyes traveling around the group in front of him. "It's Motta you want. I'm just helping him collect the sacrifices."

"Sacrifices?" Buffy wrinkled her nose, "For who and or what?"

"He's lying," Will said boastfully, "Come on, hit him."

"I don't think he is and shut up," Buffy bristled.

"_I'm _supposed to be the watcher," Will whined, "You have to do what I tell you!"

"Will!" Buffy snapped.

With drooped shoulders, Will twisted around and kicked at the ground. Buffy just rolled her eyes and turned back to Bryan.

"What are the sacrifices for?" Buffy asked patiently.

Bryan stuck his tongue in his cheek. "A demon," he replied.

"What demon?"

Bryan raised his eyes to the ceiling and shrugged. "I don't recall."

Buffy nodded before balling her fist and sending a swift, albeit light punch right into Bryan Ryan's jaw. Will hopped up and let out a little yelp of victory, but ducked his head again when Buffy gave him another stern glare.

"Lurconis," said Bryan, bringing a hand to his aching jaw, "The demon's name is Lurconis. They just wanted a distraction so the sacrifices wouldn't be protected."

"So you're just the diversion?"

"Basically. They said the sacrifice was so important that they couldn't just take it unless everyone was totally out of it. Once the spell wears off, they'll all just blame themselves."

"Where is Al Motta?" asked Buffy.

"I don't know," Bryan shrugged.

"Hit him again!" Will cheered, and Buffy balled her fist.

"No!" Bryan cried, "I really don't know! Probably delivering the sacrifice."

"I guess that brings us to the real question and believe me, you can't afford to give a wrong answer," said Buffy, and Will smiled with delight behind her, "What is the sacrifice?"

Bryan's mouth was pressed into a firm, tight line. "I don't know."

Buffy gritted her teeth and raised a fist.

"I don't know! I don't know, I swear!" Bryan raised his hands, his blue eyes startlingly wide, "Look, some bigwig big bads contacted me, asking for my services, so I did my duty. I didn't ask questions. There's a demon and sacrifices, but I don't know anything more than that, I swear."

Buffy kept her fist balled and stared at him, her jaw clenched. "Alright. Come on."

Buffy grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him along through the maze, Will following them, buzzing with energy and excitement. They met the rest of the scoobies back in the main part of the warehouse, most of them leaning expectantly against the conveyor belts, kicking at stray tools that littered the concrete floor.

"We tried following you," Rachel piped up when she spotted the threesome walking toward them, "But we couldn't keep up."

"What do you know?" asked Quinn, folding her arms.

"Not much," Buffy sighed, her fist still clutched around Bryan's shirt, "I need to call Tina."

"What happened?" Terri asked nervously, sidling up to Will.

"We're taking care of it, baby," Will said, beaming with newfound confidence as he slung his arm around the blonde.

Buffy rolled her eyes and let go of Bryan to fish her cellphone out of her pocket and find Tina's number. "We found him."

"You did?" Tina exclaimed on the other line, whispering slightly, as if the library she was in wasn't actually empty, "What happened?"

"I need you to research a demon, Lurconis."

"Lurconis," Tina said slowly, as if she was writing it down, "A demon. What do you know about it?"

"See if you can find anything about sacrifices."

"Sacrifices?"

"Yeah, that's all I know. My source is all tapped out," said Buffy, giving Bryan a quick glare.

"Okay, stay there, Mike just found a whole chapter in the bestiary. Looks like a sacrifice is made every thirty years, and this one's late, so I'm guessing he's in for a big meal. Oh, and… oh…"

"Tina, what is it?"

"Lurconis eats infants."

Buffy widened her eyes. "Infants?"

The scoobies looked up, staring at Buffy as she nervously chewed her lip.

"Children who exhibit or are born of magical properties. I guess that's why Lurconis comes to the Hellmouth."

Buffy bit her bottom lip and glanced worriedly at Quinn, who was giving her a curious look. "Thanks, Tina… Call me if you find out more."

xxx

Puck was panting heavily in the driver's seat, struggling to put his belt back on as he watched Shelby slide into her tube top, her cheeks flushed pink and her dark hair mussed.

"That was… amazing," he said, his eyes stuck to her.

She glanced at him, her mouth quirked in an amused smile. "Yeah, that was fun."

"I didn't know… I didn't really think you felt that way about me."

Shelby gave him a strange look and shrugged. "Yeah, I mean, you're totally hot."

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't think you saw me as… you know… a man."

Shelby smiled and slid her fingers through his overgrown faux-hawk. "I am woman, you are man," she said in a phony accent that Puck couldn't place, and then started giggling wildly, "Sorry, that's from a movie. Ooh, we should go to the movies!"

Puck glanced nervously back at the apartment building from his pick-up truck in the far side of the parking lot. "Maybe we should check on Beth."

"Right," Shelby sighed, "She's so cute, right? It's so bizarre, like we're playing house."

Puck shrugged. "We're not really playing, though. You're her mom. I'm her dad…"

"Right," Shelby nodded, "We're, like, a real family. Oh my God, how crazy is that? It sounds so grown-up!"

Puck raised an eyebrow, about to speak when a sharp knock sounded on his car door window. The pair of them jumped and looked out of Puck's window to see the darkened outline of Quinn standing impatiently in front of them, strands of pink hair lit by the moon. She leaned down to peer into the window, Rachel standing a few feet away from her, picking at her fingernails. Quinn knocked again, a grimace on her face, and Puck rolled down the window.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Quinn opened her mouth to speak, before glancing at Shelby in the passenger's seat. Her green eyes continued to dart between the two of them, bewilderment flashing through her eyes. Rachel peered curiously over her shoulder, a sinking look of realization washing over her face. Quinn seemed to snap out of it and impatiently asked, "Where's Beth?!"

Puck and Shelby glanced back at the apartment building through the windshield. "Sh-She's inside," Puck stammered.

Quinn gave them a quick glare before storming off toward the apartment. Rachel's feet were planted firmly on the ground, her mouth a small circle as she continued to stare at the couple in the car. Puck blushed and got out to follow Quinn, Shelby trailing closely behind. Rachel snapped out of her stupor, straightened her skirt and headed inside. They all sprinted to catch up to Quinn, whose eyes bugged out of her head as she sped down the hall to see Shelby's apartment door wide open.

"You didn't lock the door?!" she exclaimed.

Before she could let anyone answer, she was running into the apartment, stomping over loose paperwork and baby toys to get to Beth's nursery. The other three followed her in to see her hands gripping the edge of Beth's crib, staring down into the empty bed.

"They took her," she said, alarmingly quiet.

"Who took her?!" Shelby asked, starting to panic.

Quinn whipped around and glared at Shelby. "You didn't see?!"

"N-No, we were…" Shelby trailed off, her face turning red.

Quinn gritted her teeth and looked at Rachel. "Call Buffy," she said, before marching back out of the room.

xxx

"Something's going to eat all those babies?!" Terri screeched, looking close to tears.

As Will attempted to soothe the woman, Buffy folded her arms and stared through the window partition that separated them from the hospital's nursery. Most of the cribs were completely empty. Almost every doctor and nurse had abandoned their post. Whoever had taken the babies had strolled right in. Buffy had received a near-hysterical phone call just minutes earlier from Rachel, to inform her that Beth was missing.

"She didn't see who took them," said Blaine, looking unusually pale as he and Kurt walked toward Buffy.

They had been questioning the only nurse who had stuck around. She'd had her earphones in when they arrived and was reluctant to engage in conversation.

"She said it's not like _she _stole the babies and to just get off her back."

"We know who took them," Buffy bristled.

"Well, then, let's go find the demon and kick it's ass!" Will exclaimed.

Buffy gave him an exasperated look. "We would if we knew where they were. Quinn's probably tearing up the whole town in your car, looking for Beth."

Blaine grimaced. "Lurconis dwells beneath the city, filth to filth."

Buffy furrowed her brow at the boy. "What?"'

"I knew this. I mean, I read about it, once. In my dad's journals," he explained.

"Dwells beneath the city?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, "Are you thinking sewers?"

"We should go now," said Kurt.

"To the sewers? No, thanks," Terri turned up her nose, "I'll stay here… in case the babies come back."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Alright, let's go."

"Will, stay with me," said Terri, grabbing his hand and giving him a wide-eyed stare.

"What?" Buffy's lip curled up in distaste, "Will, you have to come with us."

"Come on, I'll be so scared here on my own," Terri pouted, stroking Will's shoulder. The man looked conflicted, her blue eyes flickering between the two blondes.

"Will!" Buffy exclaimed, "Come on, I need help. I need grown-ups! These babies are going to die if we don't act now and think clearly. Okay? Quinn's daughter is in danger. There is no room for error or selfishness. Besides, you guys are grossing me out."

xxx

Quinn darted down the ladder as soon as she heard the strangled cry of a baby. Rachel had received a call from Buffy, telling them to wait for her outside of the sewer tunnel entrance back near the abandoned industrial sector, but Quinn hadn't wanted to wait. Without much objection, Rachel, Puck and Shelby followed her in, each of them panicked and eager to find Beth. Quinn dropped down the ladder and the slap of her boots against the concrete caused a distant murmur - almost like a rhythmic chanting - to subside. She cringed at the silence, save for the crying babies, and hoped she hadn't just cost them their discretion.

She crept down the short hallway she'd found herself in, the others following, and peered around the corner to see a wide, oval cavern, and several hooded figures standing amongst tall, lit ceremonial torches. All of the figures were gathered around the center, and Quinn narrowed her eyes to see it was some sort of wide pen where the babies were lying, wailing impatiently. Her heart thudded wildy at the sight of her own daughter's whispy blond curls.

"I see Beth," she hissed to the others, and they sighed with relief.

At almost a year and a half, Beth was the oldest infant there, sitting up with a sense of serenity about her compared to the red-faced newborns.

"Well, let's go down and kick some ass!" Shelby hissed.

Quinn frowned, her eyes locked on Beth. She didn't want to start throwing around fireballs and risk hurting the children. "We need to at least have a plan if we're not going to wait for Buffy."

"Wait's over."

Quinn whirled around to see Buffy had hopped down from the ladder that led them to the cavern - Will, Kurt and Blaine following closely behind.

"What do we got?" asked the slayer.

"Bunch of hoods. Some vampires, some probably not, considering they kidnapped Beth right from the apartment," said Quinn, keeping her eyes on the child, "What do we do?"

"You get your girl and blaze anybody who gets in your way. Rachel, Kurt, Puck and Blaine will take the rest of the babies and you all get out of here, to somewhere safe. Will and Shelby and I will do the ass-kicking."

"Awesome!" Shelby exclaimed with an excited smile, silencing the chanting once again.

Quinn looked back around at the hooded figures to see each and every one of them was staring in their direction. "Now!" she ordered, and the Scoobies all rushed out of their hiding place as chaos ensued.

Quinn did just as Buffy told her and ran straight for the babies, while the others around her started fighting off the hooded figures. As bodies flew around her, Quinn made her way to the center. While Kurt scooped up a newborn and headed for the hills, Quinn reached out for Beth and was surprised when her hands slapped against an invisible surface just a foot away from where the child sat. Startled, she reeled back a moment, before laying one hand down. She was held back by a force-field that shimmered when she touched it. Beth was staring straight at her with a strangely determined look in her brown eyes.

For a moment, Quinn looked around in a panic, wondering why the other babies weren't hindered by a forcefield. Rachel was about to run back with a baby cradled carefully in her arms, but gave Quinn a startled look when she saw her standing there.

"What is it?" she asked urgently.

Quinn laid her hand against the force field once more. "I think… Beth won't let me touch her."

Rachel's eyes darted between her girlfriend and the baby. "She's scared!" said Rachel with sudden realization, "She's doing it because she's scared."

Quinn wrinkled her brow and leaned forward. "Beth, it's me. It's Quinn. Come on, let's go, baby girl. It's me. Mommy."

Beth quirked her eyebrow up at Quinn.

"Come on, you want to go, sweetie?" asked Quinn, sweat dripping down her forehead. She reached her arms out again, careful not to touch the force field. "You want to go? You want to go with Mommy?"

Beth gurgled and reached her arms up toward Quinn. She leaned forward to find the force field was gone, and clamped her hands under Beth's arms to lift the girl up onto her hip. Quinn closely followed Rachel back out of the cavern, her hand protectively laid on her daughter's head.

By the time the Scoobies had left with all of the babies, most of the hooded figures had been slain. As Shelby held down a vamp for Will to stake, Buffy jumped high and kicked one of the hooded demons in the chest. He flew backwards and landed near the circular entrance to another sickly-smelling sewer tunnel. As Buffy was about to run forward and fight him, an unearthly rumbling sounded throughout the cavern and the ground shook beneath her feet as if an earthquake had started. Will and Shelby staked their vampire and looked around their surroundings, bewildered. The demon near the entrance struggled to scramble to his feet as Will approached the slayer.

"What's that?" he asked.

Buffy widened her eyes as the monstrous head of an eyeless, snake-like monster reared out of the sewer tunnel's entrance and detached its slimy maw to swallow the hooded demon hole. It quickly disappeared back into the tunnel.

Buffy gulped. "Lurconis, I'm guessing."

The ground started to rumble again and Buffy's eyes frantically scanned the ceiling of the rounded cavern to see pipes running through each other. She zeroed in on a thin pipe as the room began to shake. The tunnel before her darkened and she glanced at one of the ceremonial torches before leaping onto a demon's corpse and jumping in the air, her hand gripping the pipe and pulled it down from the ceiling. Wavering gas screamed from the open pipe and as Lurconis stuck his scaly head back out and widened his salivating mouth, Buffy aimed the pipe at the nearest torch and watched as a shower of fire blazed all over the giant demon's head.

Buffy held her grip until she was sure that the demon - as it's blackened head retreated back into the sewer, screeching loudly - was going to die. She dropped the pipe to the floor and made a mental note to call the city planner or the mayor or the police - whoever it was she was supposed to notify about leaking gas pipes.

"Can we go home now?" Will whined as he and Shelby padded toward the slayer, panting heavily.

"Yeah," Buffy smirked, "We can go home now. I've got the SATs tomorrow."

Shelby shrugged and straightened her skirt. "Blow 'em off."

xxx

Mike trudged back into his house, a messenger bag slung over his arm as he closed the front door behind him and listened intently for his parents. He could hear some quiet murmuring coming from his father's office, so he climbed the stairs and walked quietly toward it. While he'd been researching the demon with Tina, in the back of his mind he'd been worried about what his parents were getting up to. He didn't peg them for rebellious teenagers, but it was possible they simply didn't tell him everything.

Light streamed from the open door of his father's study as he reached the upstairs landing. Mike made himself scarce against the edge of the door and peered over quickly to see that his father was having a conversation with another man in the room. The man had his back turned, so all Mike could see of him was fluffy blond hair and an expensive suit. Mike pressed his back against the wall and listened.

"And the consultant?" asked the man.

"He's been paid," said Mr. Chang, "He did exactly what we asked him to. We think it would be unwise to burn that bridge just yet."

"This didn't turn out the way I had planned."

"Sir, I think you should look at this as a positive."

"Oh. How so?"

"You'll never have to pay tribute to Lurconis again."

Mike sucked in a sharp breath and slapped his hand against his mouth for fear that his father and the unknown man would hear him.

"Are you saying that you think you did me a favor?" asked the man.

There were a few seconds of silence, during which Mr. Chang struggled to answer.

"In the future," the man continued, "I'd be careful before you do me anymore favors."

Mike's heart thudded so rapidly that he couldn't hear the man walking out of his father's study before it was too late. He jumped as the man rounded the corner and bumped right into him.

"Whoa, boy, you just about gave me a coronary," the man let out a surprised laugh.

Mr. Chang quickly walked into the hall. His face paled to see Mike over the man's shoulder. Mike just narrowed his eyes at the man, who looked extremely familiar.

"Mike, where have you been?" Mr. Chang asked quickly, "It's past your curfew."

"I was studying," Mike replied. Not a complete lie. He didn't dare mention that he was with Tina.

"We'll speak again soon, Michael," said the man, glancing back at Mike's father before retreating down the hall and disappearing downstairs.

Mr. Chang didn't reply or bother walking the man to the door. He just stared after him as he left and then gave Mike a curious look.

"Working late?" asked Mike, an eyebrow quirked.

Mr. Chang pursed his lips. "You should go to bed. It's a school night."

xxx

"It was just too much to deal with. It was like nothing made sense anymore."

Tina and Buffy walked out of McKinley's entrance, their footsteps aligned as their classmates sprinted past them, on their way home.

"I know, Buffy," Tina smiled politely, "I was there, too."

"Yeah, but, I don't think it was the same for you," Buffy shook her head, clinging anxiously to the straps of her blue backpack, "The things that I thought I understood were gone. I just felt… so alone."

Tina smiled sympathetically. "Was that the math or the verbal?"

"Mostly the math."

"You know, if you don't get the score you want, you can always take them again," shrugged Tina.

"More SATs?!" Buffy wrinkled her nose as the girls walked leisurely toward Tina's car.

Their vision of the car was blocked as Mike ran past them and planted his feet in front of them, his eyebrows knitted.

"Finally," he said, as the girls skidded to a stop, "I've been looking for you all day."

Buffy glanced at her friend. "I'll wait by the car."

"No, I need to talk to you, too," Mike said urgently, rubbing his hands against the sides of his jeans.

Tina frowned with concern. "What's going on, Mike?"

"When I got home last night, my dad was talking to some guy in his office," Mike nervously looked around at their surroundings and leaned into the girls, "He mentioned Lurconis."

Buffy and Tina gave each other a grave look. "What did he say?" asked the slayer.

"He said that the guy should look on the bright side because he'll never have to pay tribute to Lurconis again." Mike's wide, frightened eyes darted between the two girls as the truth dawned on them all. "You guys, is my dad behind this?"

The girls looked reluctant to answer. "Who was the guy?" asked Buffy, "Was it Al Motta?"

"No," Mike sighed, "I saw him. I knew he looked so familiar, but I couldn't place him, and then this morning my mom was watching the local news. They were talking about sewer repairs or something completely uninteresting, but then I saw him again. The guy my dad was talking to is a news anchor on News 8."

Tina's eyes widened. "Remington!"

"Rod Remington?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, "The guy with the fluffy hair? My mom loves him."

"He's the guy your dad's been working with this whole time? But why?" asked Tina, almost to herself.

"I don't know," Mike shrugged, clenching his jaw, "All I know is that my dad is working for the bad guy."

**Next up: Quinn realizes what she must do and Kitty's new watcher arrives...**


	95. The New Watcher

**Chapter 92**

**The New Watcher**

Quinn sprawled on the living room floor, propping her head up with her hand as she squeaked a toy duck at Beth. The girl had been tempted to skip school that day and spend the morning and afternoon entertaining her daughter, but it would have been irresponsible to skip the SATs and Quinn was trying to be as responsible as possible. She'd spent most of last night, as well as that day, thinking about her present situation. Thinking about Beth. They had made it clear over the last few months that Shelby was Mommy and Quinn was Quinn. They wanted to be honest with Beth but they also didn't want to give her any misconceptions about who was raising her.

But now, Quinn felt like her responsibility toward Beth extended beyond that of an occasional babysitter. She didn't want the child to grow up as misguided and dysfunctional as she had. She wanted Beth to have a strong support system. Shelby was a good mom, but she needed help. And Quinn didn't trust Puck to be the one to take on that responsibility. Not since last night. Quinn had taken Beth home to spend the night in Lima Heights while Shelby's chocolate-induced youth spell wore off. She couldn't get the image of Puck and Shelby straightening their clothes out of her head. She and Rachel had talked about it on the phone, not wanting to believe what they had clearly walked in on. Rachel wasn't sure how to feel if it were true. Shelby wasn't quite her mother and Puck wasn't quite her friend. But Quinn knew exactly how to feel. Pissed off.

Quinn looked up as Sofia peered through the archway between the kitchen and the living room, a tentative expression on her face. Over the past year, she had tried so hard to turn Lima Heights into a home and didn't give up, even when Santana left. Before, Quinn found it hard to understand why Sofia was trying so hard to make her feel like family. Having dinner ready in the evenings, inviting Rachel to go shopping, inquiring about Quinn's college plans. But now, Quinn felt like she understood. No-one would have blamed Sofia for skipping town and leaving Quinn to fend for herself, but that wasn't the point. Sofia was taking the responsibility because there was no-one else to take it.

"Shelby's here," Sofia said, wincing from the sound of her own voice.

Before the spell had worn off, the woman had spent the better part of last night doing tequila shots and attempting to recreate her wardrobe from 1989. Quinn had made sure to leave plenty of coffee for her that morning.

"Thanks, Sofia," Quinn said softly before she scooped Beth and her toy duck off of the floor.

She crossed through the kitchen and walked down the hall with the toddler balanced on her hip. Shelby, standing beyond the front door's threshold, looked nervously at two blondes approaching. She looked weary, a black cardigan draped over her frame. Something shifted in her eyes that looked halfway between shame and resolve. She looked at Beth, who was sucking on her fist, and she smiled warmly.

"There's my girl," she cooed softly.

Quinn handed Beth over at the door, watching as Shelby carefully cradled the child in her arms and kissed the top of her forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice muffled against Beth's head.

"For what?" Quinn asked, coldly.

Shelby gave Quinn a pained look, as if she might have burst into tears at any moment. "I'm so sorry," she said, her face getting red.

Quinn clenched her jaw. "I know."

"I can't imagine what could have happened… If anything…" Shelby squeezed her eyes shut, "I'm so glad you were there."

Quinn nodded. She was not feeling as forgiving as she wanted to, even though she knew it wasn't really Shelby's fault. She was under a spell. Putting Beth in danger and anything she may or may not have done with Puck...

"It's not your fault," she said.

Shelby sniffed and attempted to regain her composure, quickly glancing back at her car parked on the curb. "We should talk."

Quinn frowned. "I don't think we need to."

"I think we do," Shelby said certainly, rocking Beth on her hip, "This arrangement… it's not working."

Quinn pursed her lips. "What do you mean?"

"This pseudo-family we've made. You and Puck baby-sitting and stopping by whenever you like… It's confusing. For Beth. And for the rest of us."

Quinn's heart sped up. "You can't take her from me again."

Shelby's eyes widened. "Oh, Quinn, no, I'm not going to. I just… I think it's important that we have boundaries."

Quinn raised her chin, indignant. "I'm not sure if I'm the one you need to talk to about boundaries."

Shelby's eyes fell to the floor. Quinn almost felt bad for having said anything.

"But you're right," she continued, "We need a better plan. This isn't working, obviously."

Shelby nodded. "I told Sofia that I wouldn't need her to babysit during the day anymore. I signed Beth up for daycare. I still think it's important that you get to have a relationship with her, though. So, if you ever want to babysit or visit her or take her out for the day, you need to schedule it with me and I need to know where she'll be at all times."

Quinn nodded, pursing her lips. "What about Puck?" she asked.

Shelby was silent for a moment. "I don't think I can offer him the same privileges."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?"

Shelby sighed. "He can help you babysit, but I don't want him around the apartment and I don't want to leave Beth alone with him."

Quinn almost scoffed. "Have you told him that?"

"Not yet," Shelby sighed, bowing her head, "I'm not trying to punish him. I just think that it's what's best for Beth."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah, I do, too."

"I think my work life might start getting a little easier, too," Shelby smirked, "Apparently the school is going to hire an assistant counselor."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, someone to help out with this insane backlog of paperwork so that I can focus on actual counseling."

"That'll be great," Quinn nodded, seeming a little absentminded as her thoughts wandered back to the image of Shelby and Puck, hair mussed, clothes askew… "I'm sorry, I just…"

Shelby frowned. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Quinn shook her head, "I'm glad we're really figuring all of this out. I'm glad you're not leaving."

Shelby nodded again and bounced Beth on her hip. "You ready to go home, baby?" she cooed sweetly to the infant before turning back to Quinn, "I'll talk to you tomorrow. You can tell me all about your SATs."

"Oh, joy," Quinn scoffed, and watched as Shelby and Beth returned to their car, her slight smile fading.

She closed the front door, just as the late sunset began to throw paint strokes of orange and pink against the neighborhood. She retired to Santana's old room. Even though she'd been using it for months now, she couldn't quite think of it as her own. She'd moved almost none of Santana's clothes, except the ones she borrowed from time to time. Instead of changing the room to match her personality, she quickly realized that she was changing her personality to match the room. Picking her movies and music based on the posters that lined the walls. Learning to prefer the darkness when she closed the heavy, black-out curtains.

She hopped onto the bed, crossing her legs and looking at the webpage she'd left idle on her laptop screen. Quinn grabbed her cellphone off of the nightstand and found Rachel in her contacts.

"Hello?"

"Shelby just picked up Beth," Quinn said quickly, one hand hovering her laptop mouse.

Rachel paused a moment on the other line. "Did she say anything?"

"She said she was sorry, but she didn't say about what. She thinks we should have boundaries."

Quinn could hear her girlfriend snort. "Yes, well, that might be a decent idea."

"I wanted to confront her about Puck," Quinn said into the phone, "But I just… couldn't. I think I feel bad for her."

"Why should you? I know neither of us want to say so, but what if whatever is going on between her and Puck wasn't just for that one night. What if there was something between them before she was under that spell?"

Quinn frowned. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wondered. I mean, I never would have thought before, but when I look back and think about how often he'd babysit Beth without me, or stop in Shelby's office just to see how she was doing…"

"Well, I'm not surprised. And I don't feel all that bad for her. It's not like she hasn't done this before."

"I don't think this is the same as it was with Jesse. Oh, God, I didn't even think about Jesse. He thinks I'm too good for Puck. I can't imagine what he'd think of him with Shelby."

"Forgive me if I'm not too concerned about Jesse in all of this."

"No, you're right. This isn't about him," said Quinn, "And we don't even know what they did or didn't do."

"Quinn, I've been dangerously naive about certain things before, but not about this. Let's just say it looked pretty incriminating."

"I know, I know. I can't think about that, though. I have to think about Beth."

"I'm sure Beth will be fine. Shelby's made a lot of mistakes, but she seems to really love her. I know she put Beth in danger, but it was under extreme circumstances."

"This is the Hellmouth. There are always extreme circumstances. I need to know that I'm doing everything I can to help make sure Beth is safe and happy. I gave her up because it was the right thing to do, and now I need to be in her life because it's the right thing to do."

"You can only do so much. It's your senior year. You'll be in college this time next year, possibly in New York! You have to learn to trust Shelby to be a good mom."

"That was another thing I needed to talk to you about," Quinn said, "About next year. About New York." 

Quinn paused as she heard a rustling at her window. She glanced at the thick black curtains, always closed. She slid off of the bed, her cellphone still held close to her ear, and peered behind a curtain to see that the window had been left wide open. She didn't remember opening it, but reasoned that Sofia must have been trying to air the room out while she cleaned during the day. Still, she had the creeping feeling of being watched, and stared out into the night for a moment, only for the darkness to stare back at her.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard something…" Quinn said into the phone, still staring out at the window. "Listen, I've been thinking about this for a while, but after everything that's happened, I think I've made up my mind."

Rachel was growing impatient on the other line. "Quinn, what are you trying to tell me?"

Quinn took a deep, soothing breath and crossed the room to sit back on the edge of the bed. "I don't want to go to New York next year. I want to stay in Lima. I want to be close to Beth. I want to practice witchcraft on the Hellmouth."

There were a few moments of silence on the other line before Rachel said, "That's… Are you sure?"

Quinn nodded to herself. "Yes, I'm sure."

"But… you can visit Beth. Shelby can take care of her. She'll be fine. And you can practise your witchcraft anywhere. Don't you want to get out of this town?"

"I don't know, Rachel. It's not just that… The only thing that makes me want to go to New York is you. And I need to know that when I make this decision, I'm making it for me."

"What are you going to do in Lima?" Rachel asked indignantly.

"I'm going to apply for a Journalism scholarship at OSU." Quinn climbed back into the bed and glanced at the online application she'd started.

"Journalism?" Rachel sounded skeptical.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm good at English, so I think I have a shot. I don't have any big plans, Rachel, I'm just going to go to college and see where it takes me. But I'm going to do it in Lima."

"You're really sure about this?"

"I'm really sure. I love you so much, but I think that this is what's best for me."

After another few moments of loaded silence, Rachel spoke. "So, what happens to us? We're just going to break up after graduation?"

Quinn paused. She had thought about it, but not comprehensively. She had weighed the pros and cons of a long-distance relationship but part of her was pretending that the time would never come.

"I don't know," she said, finally, "That's not what I want, but… it's a long way away. We have plenty of time to figure it out."

Rachel mumbled, "Not enough."

"Rachel, I'm sorry."

Rachel sniffed. "Don't be. You're just doing what's best for you."

"Rachel…"

"I have to go, Quinn. I'll see you at school."

xxx

Will winced as he took a gulp of piping hot coffee from his thermos and headed hastily to his office. He'd woken up late after a fitful night of dreaming about the episode he'd had a few days earlier, in which his teenage self was bent on listening to Edie Brickell records all night. He'd wished for short-term amnesia once his senses came back to him, but the memories were stuck with him. The scalding liquid slid down his throat as he spotted Terri walking toward him down the hall, her head held a little lower than usual, her sandy blond hair hanging over her face. She looked mildly startled when they met eyes, her cheeks immediately flushing a pale shade of pink. Will gave her a slight smile as they approached each other - unavoidable in their paths to their perspective office spaces.

"Terri," he nodded cordially as they stopped in front of each other.

"Will," she simpered, not meeting his eye.

Will let a few awkward beats pass as students filed by on their way to their next class. "This is awkward," he blurted out matter-of-factly.

Terri chuckled and her eyebrows pulled together. "It's so silly. We didn't do anything exactly scandalous."

"Nothing we weren't doing in tenth grade," Will smirked.

Terri laughed again, although her face turned pinker and she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "It was kind of… nice."

Will's smiled faded as he gave Terri a curious look. "Um, w-well it was-"

"I mean, to be a teenager again," Terri smiled, "It felt simple."

"Right. I don't know if I can honestly say that I agree. I forgot what it was like to just be a ball of emotional. Hormonal, anxious, hot-headed. Pathetically infatuated."

"That's what I liked about it. I mean, it's intense, but in some ways it's much less complicated than it is now. You wear everything on your sleeve. There's a lot less… bitterness. You have your whole life in front of you."

Will smiled. There was no way in hell he'd want to go back to being Billy the kid, but Terri made it sound nice.

xxx

Quinn sped from second period to get to her locker. Puck had been giving her prodding looks from the back of Economics, but she kept her eyes steadily in front of her the whole time. The last thing she wanted to do was have a discussion about what happened between him and Shelby. She wanted Puck to keep that information to himself. She had decided that the less she knew about it, the better.

She felt someone approaching at her side as she reached her locker and turned to see Rachel speed-walking to catch up to her. Quinn was surprised to see a big grin on her girlfriend's face. After their conversation on the phone last night, she assumed Rachel would be giving her the cold shoulder at least for the rest of the day.

"Well, don't you look happy," said Quinn, her brows buckled in suspicion.

"I thought about what you said last night," Rachel replied.

"You did?" Quinn asked warily as they reached her locker.

"I did, and I think it's perfect," Rachel smiled, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched Quinn enter her locker combination.

"You do?" Quinn asked, doubtful.

"I do! Quinn, you've finally found your ambition!"

"I mean, I guess-"

"Now we're two women on a journey to becoming who we always wanted to be!" Rachel said with a burst of spirit, stars practically dancing in her eyes, "Imagine, me, the breakout star of Broadway and you, the hard-hitting journalist with the inside scoop on New York City's newest ingenue! I mean, come on, Quinn, that sounds like the plot of a romantic comedy! Yes, we'll be apart for a while, but we can get through it, can't we?"

Quinn gave her a smile. "Yeah. I mean, I think we can."

Rachel's smile waned just a little. It wasn't as enthusiastic a response as she was hoping for, but she didn't want to dwell on it. Quinn was starting to understand that her girlfriend was trying her absolute best to be an optimist in that moment.

"And how far away is New York, really?" Quinn shrugged, "It's not like we can't visit each other all the time."

"Exactly," Rachel smiled with renewed vigor, "We can't let anything stand in the way of our ambition!"

"Right."

"So now you know you have to work your hardest this year to be able to live your dreams."

"What do you mean?"

"Quinn, you have to secure that scholarship! That means joining the school newspaper. Yearbook, even. It might be too late for you to have a real shot at becoming an editor, but you have a way with words. I'm sure you'll become their most popular columnist!"

"I mean, I guess-"

"And you could get an internship!" Rachel gasped, a lightbulb practically illuminating above her head, "At The Daily Lima. Or, better yet, if you're interested in broadcast journalism, you could apply for an internship at the local news station!"

"Broadcast journalism, huh?" Quinn's eyes twinkled a little as she gave it some thought, "Like, on TV?"

"Sure," Rachel smiled, "I mean, you may need to rethink your hair. _I _love it but I'm not sure it's going to make you look like anchorwoman material."

Quinn stifled a laugh. "Rachel, I don't think they'll care if the interns are anchor material."

"Don't think like that! You have to be ready at any moment to shoot out of the cannon called stardom!"

Quinn bit her bottom lip and shook her head at her girlfriend's enthusiasm, just as she spotted someone approaching from over the petite girl's shoulder. Her smile faded into a mask of guarded hostility. Rachel spun around to see Puck walking toward them. She, too, seemed to turn cold at the sight of him. The boy had a sheepish look on his face as he peered at the couple from under his dark eyelashes.

"Quinn, can we talk?" he asked, keeping his gaze steadily away from Rachel's pointed glare.

"I don't think she has anything to say to you," Rachel frowned, her chin in the air.

"With all due respect, Rachel, this is between me and Quinn," he said, glancing at the brunette, "It's about Beth."

Rachel clenched her jaw just as Quinn laid a hand on the sleeve of her girlfriend's cardigan and gave her a nod. "It's alright," she shrugged.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Puck once more and said, "I'll see you in glee club," before strutting back down the hall, parting her way through a herd of freshmen.

Quinn watched her girlfriend disappear down the hall before landing her eyes on Puck. He raised his arm and scratched the back of his head, giving her a knowing smirk, as if to say, 'Oops'. As if he spilled red wine on a white couch.

"What do you want to talk about?" Quinn asked, crossing her arms. She wasn't in the mood to talk to him or even look at him.

"Like I said, Beth. And Shelby."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "What could you possibly have to say?"

"That I'm sorry, first of all."

"Sorry that you did it or sorry you got caught? What did you two even do- No, you know what? I don't ever need to know."

"We had sex," Puck said bluntly.

Quinn groaned inwardly. "You don't listen, do you?"

"It just happened, okay? It wasn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal?!" Quinn hissed, "You slept with Rachel's _mom_."

"Shhhh!" Puck hissed back and grabbed her by the crook of her elbow, pulling her away from her locker and toward an empty Chemistry lab.

He closed the door behind them as she paced down the first aisle of counters. She folded her arms again and stuck her hands under her armpits. This was why she didn't want to talk to him; because she knew her face would get red and her hands would get hot and she would need to lie down before she set him on fire.

"First of all," Puck finally said after making sure the coast was relatively clear, "She's barely Rachel's mom. She's her surrogate or egg donor or whatever. They barely know each other."

"Oh, so that makes it okay?" Quinn asked, whirling around to look him in the eye, "Her birth mother works at her school, so she may as well be sleeping with her friends, too. That's just great."

"You're being crazy," Puck rolled his eyes.

"Do _not _tell me that I'm being crazy. It's bad enough that that's Rachel's biological mother, Puck, but that is Beth's _mom_."

"So what?!" Puck exclaimed, "I'm her dad!"

"No, Puck, you're not!"

Puck puffed out his chest, starting to look more angry than guilty. "Oh, I'm not? Is there something you want to tell me, Quinn? Were you sleeping with the whole football team in sophomore year?"

Quinn's eyebrows raised and she felt her face and hands and even her veins run cold. She saw Puck's face soften and decided to get out of there before he could really realized that he'd hurt her feelings. She tried to stride past him but he hooked his hand around her elbow to pull her back.

"Get off," she mumbled, yanking her arm away.

"Quinn, please, this is important. I don't want to get into some dumb fight. I need to talk to you, seriously. I'm sorry I said that, it was stupid."

Quinn glared up at him. "You're not her dad, Puck," Quinn said coldly, and quietly, "I don't want you to be."

Puck furrowed his brow and gave her a long look. "I'm doing the best I can, Quinn."

"It's not good enough," she responded, starting to tear up with anger and frustration, "Dads are supposed to be there for you. They're supposed to put their daughters before themselves and do everything they can to not make their lives harder. Beth is better off without a father than with a father who can't even do that."

Puck pursed his lips. "I wasn't trying to make her life harder, Quinn."

"What did you think would happen? Her life is already abnormal enough. You're just going to make everything weirder and more difficult, for everyone."

Puck shook his head. "It wasn't just me. I didn't do this on my own, just to make life harder for everyone. I have feelings for Shelby and she has feelings for me."

Quinn rolled her eyes and smiled bitterly, her tears subsiding. "She was under a spell, Puck."

"She had feelings for me _before _the spell. She kissed me."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at the boy. "She did?"

"Yes, Quinn. And yeah, when she was under the spell, we went a lot further and put Beth in danger, and everything was worse, but it's not like it was cookie-cutter perfect before. Shelby's into me. And now, she's not letting me see Beth because she doesn't want to complicate things. Quinn, this isn't all on me. You have to talk to her."

Quinn sniffed and looked at the floor. "I have to get to class," she said, and sped away before Puck could say anything more.

xxx

Buffy smacked her back against a wide oak tree in the Lima cemetery. She gasped as her breath was pushed out of her body and widened her eyes to see the vampire bolting toward her with his clenched fist raised in the air. She ducked just as the vamp slammed his hand into the tree's stubborn bark. The slayer tucked and rolled out of the way, bouncing back up to stake the scrawny bloodsucker through his back. As the cloud of ashes dissipated in the night wind, Buffy whirled around to count the cohorts she had brought along: Will, who was sitting perched on a tombstone, writing in a legal pad and keeping far away from the action; and Kitty, who was relishing her own battle with another oily-haired, overzealous vampire.

Buffy was poised and ready to join the fight if Kitty needed her to, but the younger slayer seemed to be handling things on her own. She tossed the vamp over a low, stone bench and jumped across it herself, landing on the fallen target, straddling him and plunging her polished stake into his heart. The vamp dusted and Kitty hopped off of the ground, shaking back her blond ponytail, looking immensely proud of herself.

"Did you see that?" she grinned, slowly pacing back toward Buffy and Mr. Schuester.

"Uh huh," Buffy responded, suppressing a smile.

"And? What did you think?" Kitty splayed out her hands, looking eager.

"Sloppy."

Buffy, Kitty, and even Will looked up toward the unfamiliar voice. A tall, black woman with a blond pixie-cut and a proudly raised chin strode toward them, donned in a red tracksuit.

"What's the point in having two slayers of y'all are going to leave all your blind sides open? And might I remind you that this is a school night. I'd thank you not to waste time practising fighting techniques you saw Scarlett Johansson doing, and get to the slaying. Now which one of you tiny white girls is Kitty?"

The slayers glanced at each other, bewildered, and at their slack-jawed teacher, before Kitty turned her attention back to the woman. "Who the Hell's asking?" she demanded, folding her arms over her Cheerios uniform.

"Roz Washington. Your new watcher."


End file.
